Night had fallen and, in the caves of the Neanderthal Folk, everyone was asleep. Except Littlenose. He tossed and he turned. He sat up in bed and lay down again. “For goodness’ sake, Littlenose,” shouted Dad, “go to sleep! You’re keeping everyone awake!”
This wasn’t quite true, however, as Mum was only awake because Dad was shouting, and Two-Eyes was fast asleep in a corner.
“I can’t get to sleep,” said Littlenose. “My bed’s full of bumps and wrinkles!”
“If you made your bed properly every morning as Mum tells you,” said Dad, “this sort of thing wouldn’t happen!”
Littlenose lay down and pulled the covers over his head and, surprisingly, was soon fast asleep.
When Littlenose woke next morning, he ached all over. “It’s your own fault,” said Mum. “You can spend this morning airing and shaking your bed and re-making it properly.” A Neanderthal bed was a pile of bear skins and other furs, which served as both mattress and covers and was spread on the floor of the cave.
Littlenose began to drag his bedding out into the middle of the cave. It was quite remarkable what came to light, and even more remarkable that he managed to sleep at all. There was an old flint knife and some lucky coloured pebbles in the fold of one fur. Lifting up another, an apple core and a couple of old bones tumbled out – the remains of a midnight snack. At the very bottom of the heap, a particularly hard lump was revealed as a spare fire-making flint. It was exciting! Like a treasure hunt!
“Now,” said Mum, get those furs outside and beat them until they are clean.” And Littlenose laid out the furs on a rock and beat them vigorously with a long stick. He raised clouds of dust. When Mum was satisfied that the bedding was clean and fresh, Littlenose wearily carried it back into the cave to his own special corner.
Then he called to Two-Eyes and, together, they made their way to Littlenose’s favourite tree where they did their more important thinking.
Littlenose said, “You know, Two-Eyes, people are pretty unreasonable. Sleeping on the floor, I mean. It’s all right for you. With your fur, you could sleep on a bed of thistles without even noticing.” He leaned back and watched a bird disappear into the foliage above his head. “Now, birds have more sense,” he said. “No lying on the hard ground for them; they build nests with wool and feathers and things to line them. And I bet they never lose a single wink of sleep. “Suddenly, he leapt to his feet and shouted: “I’VE GOT IT, TWO-EYES!” Startled, Two-Eyes jumped sideways and gave Littlenose a suspicious look. Littlenose’s ideas usually spelt trouble for someone – more often than not for Two-Eyes. He sneaked away as Littlenose paced up and down waving his arms as he explained his great idea.
“People nests!” he said. “If people had nests like the birds, there would be none of this business of hard floors. At bedtime they would simply snuggle down and be lulled to sleep by the gently swaying of the branches.” There and then, he decided to build a ‘people nest’, or rather, a ‘boy nest’ to prove that it could be done.
From the sun, Littlenose judged that it was almost lunch-time, but there was a lot he could do before then. He had to find a suitable tree, for instance. He set off into the woods.
He was deep in the forest before he found what he was looking for. A tall straight tree with plenty of hand and footholds for climbing and, right at the top, a stout limb growing straight out from the trunk with a large fork at the end. He started to gather twigs and branches for his nest. The time flew past, and Littlenose forgot completely that he should have been home for lunch.
Then came the tricky part, getting the twigs and branches to the top of the tree and building the nest. Littlenose could only carry one branch at a time as he climbed carefully to the fork. Soon his limbs ached and he was scratched and sore. The branches seemed to get heavier and heavier but, in the end, the last one was up and carefully balanced with the others across the forked branch.
Then he took his flint knife out of his furs and carefully cut strips of bark about as long as his forearm and as broad as his finger. He began to arrange the nesting material across the fork, using the strips of bark to lash it firmly in place. Slowly the nest began to take shape. It was bowl-shaped and beginning to look very nest-like when he realised that he had run out of twigs. He didn’t need many. Just enough leafy ones to make a soft and comfortable lining. He slid back along the branch to the trunk and broke off all the leafy branches he could reach and threw them into the nest. Then he hung down and collected more from lower down. It was a simple matter to arrange them inside the woven branches – and the job was done. Littlenose looked at his handiwork with pride. Carefully, he lay down on the soft leaves. He watched the clouds drift across the sky. The nest rocked gently in the tree-top. And Littlenose fell asleep!
When Littlenose didn’t turn up at lunchtime, Mum was angry. But when there was still no sign of him at suppertime, she became worried. For Littlenose to miss two meals in a row was most unusual. Dad came home and a full-scale search was mounted. With some reluctance and a lot of muttering, the search party assembled in the gathering dusk.
“If that boy were mine,” grumbled one man, “I’d throw him to the bears!”
“They’d throw him right back,” said another. “Bears have more sense!”
They were just leaving when a strange figure stumbled into the circle of torchlight. It was an old, old man. He carried a bundle of sticks in one shaking hand as he lurched and stumbled into the midst of the search party. He grabbed one man by the arm and wheezed and puffed, trying to speak and get his wind back at the same time.
“It’s old Nod,” said Dad. “What on earth’s the matter with him?” Nod was a simple old man who spent most of his time collecting herbs. He had evidently been gathering firewood in the forest.
After a moment, Nod calmed down a bit and stopped gasping. Then he pointed dramatically back the way he had come and cried, “Big as a mammoth! Out of the sky! It’ll have us all!”
“What will?” asked Dad.
“IT!” cried Nod. And he darted about flapping his arms like wings and talking so fast that only one word in ten made sense. Then they realised what Nod was telling them. He’d fled for his life from a giant bird! No, he hadn’t actually seen a giant bird; but he had seen a giant nest! What more did they want?
“Could you lead us to it?” asked Dad. Nod was perhaps simple but he was not stupid. Bringing word of a ferocious giant bird in the forest was one thing – going back for another look was something else altogether. He gathered up his firewood and hurried off towards his cave.
“Silly old man,” said Dad. “Probably imagined the whole thing! Come on. We’ve wasted enough time as it is.” And off they set on their delayed hunt for the missing Littlenose. By the light of their torches, the search party peered into the shadows and prodded the undergrowth with their spears, but of Littlenose there was no sign. “You don’t suppose the giant bird got him?” said someone.
“You don’t believe that nonsense, do you?” said Dad, and he started to laugh. But no-one else did.
The moon had risen and Dad realised that the others were not even looking at him. They were gazing across a clearing to where a tall tree grew slightly separate from the rest. Their eyes travelled up the trunk. Up and up to where a large branch grew out near the top. And there they saw it. There could be no doubt. It was a nest. But what a nest!
“What do we do now?” they asked one another.
Littlenose woke with a start. He hadn’t meant to sleep and now it was dark. He climbed out of his nest and slid along the branch to the trunk of the tree. He felt in the light of the moon for foot- and hand-holds. And there were none! Where were all the branches he had used to climb up? Then he remembered. The leafy branches he had broken off to make a comfortable lining were the very branches he had used. He was stuck. He got back into the nest, took a deep breath, and shouted: “HELP!”
To his amazement, there was an immediate reply. A voice out of the darkness shouted, “HI!” Then other voices joined in, including Dad’s. They were all talking at once. Mainly nonsense, by the sound. “It’s Littlenose! It must have got him! Do you think he’s all right? Are you all right, Littlenose?”
“Yes,” cried Littlenose. “But I can’t get down.”
“Hang on!” shouted Dad and, slinging a coil of rawhide rope around his shoulder, he began to climb the tree. He reached the last of the hand-holds, balanced himself as best he could, and tied one end of the rope around his waist. “Tie the end to the branch,” he called, throwing the coiled rope to Littlenose. Littlenose did so and waited to see what Dad intended to do next. He never found out because, at that moment, Dad lost his balance and, with a horrible yell, vanished into the darkness. The search party scattered as Dad plummeted towards them. But the rope had got into a great tangle and Dad was brought up short half-way to the ground, dangling helplessly. “Don’t all just stand there,” he cried. “Get me down!”
“I’ll get you down,” came Littlenose’s voice.
Dad looked up. “No, not THAT!” he cried.
Littlenose was clinging to the branch and sawing at the rawhide rope with his flint knife. “Almost there,” he called encouragingly. And before Dad could utter another protest, the rope parted. For the second time, Dad hurtled groundwards. He collided head-on with one of the search party. Luckily, Neanderthal heads were made for rough treatment. Even as they tumbled in a heap, another body crashed amongst them. Suddenly relieved of Dad’s weight, the branch had sprung upwards, catapulting Littlenose into the air. The piled-up search party broke his fall safely, if a bit abruptly.
They got to their feet, picked up the scattered torches and looked at Littlenose. “Look at those scratches,” they said. “Must be claw marks. Or beak marks. What an experience!”
Dad said, “We’d better not hang around in case it comes back.” And off they hurried with Littlenose, not even scolding him for all the bother he’d caused. It was all very strange. Mum even burst into tears when he got home.
Still bewildered, Littlenose found himself washed, fed and tucked up in bed. And of one thing he was now certain. Nests were so much trouble that anyone who preferred a nest to a good solid floor must be positively bird-brained!