months of misery.  But she knew she had to set her feelings aside and come to his aid.  It was God's way. 
            Suddenly the wind began to blow through her branches, rustling her deep purple-red leaves, reminding her of Scotchie's question.  "If I hadn't helped him he'd be in the woodsman's house, decorated with twinkling lights and shinny colored bulbs-- wearing a star on his top!"  She sighed sadly.  "His roots would be here in the forest--  but he'd be somewhere else, all his needles becoming brown and brittle. . .dying ever so slowly...."
            All the other trees' boughs and branches began to shake their agreement.  They had heard of this sort of thing happening to other pines and firs, so they knew the oak was right.
            "Well, I guess thanks are in order," said the white pine.  "So. . .Thanks."  Then he added sharply, "But your helping me changes nothing!  I still detest those pesky birds and rodents. . .I mean we!" he said with emphasis.  "Those critters make such a racket!  We don't want them around here!"  The sound of the other trees' rustling leaves and quivering pine needles conveyed their agreement.  Relieved that they were on his side, the white pine said, "If you helped me because you thought we might change our minds, you were wrong!"
            The oak said firmly, "In the eyes of our Creator, I did what was right."  To herself she said, I was made for His purpose, not for theirs!  If I must suffer for doing the right thing, then so be it! 
            Ever so slowly, the branches of the oak began to lift toward the sky, until they were as high as the could possibly go without snapping off.  She looked down at the other trees, beamed happily and said, "This, my friends, is what an oak tree should look like!  Straight and tall, every branch reaching toward the sky!  No more limp limbs on this tree!" she said in no uncertain terms.  "I must strive to be what I was made to be--  a mighty oak tree!" 
            All the trees began murmuring amongst themselves.  Not one of them came to her defense, though.  Just for a moment it seemed as if the Scotch pine might, when he cleared his throat and said, "Me fellow foliage, don't ya think yer bein' a wee bit hard on Big Red?"  When a tree from somewhere behind him called out, "Back off, Scotchie!"  his limbs suddenly went limp and he didn't utter another word.
            Loud enough so that even the distant trees could hear, the oak said with a tone of regret, "It seems that all of you dislike my good friends the birds, the squirrels and the chipmunks."  Suddenly her leaves began to tremble.  "But I like them.  From this day forward all forest creatures are welcome in my boughs!"
            The oak meant what she said. 

AS THE YEARS PASSED the red oak tree grew in girth and height, until she towered above all the other trees in the sanctuary.  As promised, she invited birds into her branches, always with much protest from the other trees, especially the white pine.  The birds sang quietly, trying not to disturb the oak's neighbors.  Squirrels, chipmunks and other forest creatures came and made themselves at home in her sturdy branches, and she welcomed them all.