Juniper and the Nap Lesson

At the North Pole Flight School, the timetable was chalked on a big board by the stable door. Monday: Take-off. Tuesday: Landing on Roofs Without Waking Anybody. Wednesday: Steering by Starlight. Thursday: Napping.

Juniper read it and laughed so hard her antlers wobbled. She was the fastest young reindeer in the whole class. She could take off from standing in one bounce, and she could steer round a chimney with her eyes half shut. "Napping," she said. "That's not a lesson, that's just lying down."

Captain Hollis was the oldest reindeer at the school. He had a grey muzzle, a whistle on a ribbon, and a voice like warm porridge. "Napping," he said slowly, "is the most important lesson of all. A reindeer who hasn't napped can't fly all night. And on the big night, we fly all night."

So on Thursday afternoon the class lined up in the long hay barn. There was Juniper, and a round reindeer called Pudding, and a very small one called Sprout who was still growing into his ears. Captain Hollis blew his whistle, very softly. "Step one," he said. "Find your spot and turn round three times, then stop."

Pudding turned round three times and stopped. Sprout turned round three times and stopped. Juniper turned round thirty-one times, because she liked it, and then she was so dizzy that the whole barn went round without her.

"Step two," said Captain Hollis. "Fold your legs, front ones first." Pudding folded his legs and was snoring before he touched the hay. His snore went up and down like a tuba playing a very slow tune. Juniper folded her back legs first, by mistake, and tipped over sideways onto Pudding. Pudding did not even notice.

"Step three," said Captain Hollis. "The Big Yawn." Sprout gave a yawn so big that his ears flopped over his eyes. Juniper opened her mouth as wide as it would go. Out came a tiny squeak, like a door that wanted oiling.

"Step four," said Captain Hollis. "Count the snowflakes going past the window." Juniper counted. One-two-three-four-five-six. She counted so fast that by the time Sprout had reached seven, Juniper had reached two hundred and nine, and she was more awake than ever.

She put her chin on her hooves and sighed. "I'm no good at this," she said.

Captain Hollis lay down beside her in the hay, slowly, one creaky leg at a time. "There's a step five," he whispered. "It isn't on the board. Close your eyes, and imagine you're flying."

So Juniper closed her eyes. She imagined the sky, dark blue and very still. She imagined the rooftops going by underneath her, not fast, but slowly, one roof and then another roof and then another. Every window was dark, and every child was asleep. Every chimney had a little curl of warm smoke going up.

"You're flying very slowly now," whispered Captain Hollis. "There's no hurry at all. One roof. Another roof."

Juniper's ears drooped. Her breathing went slow and deep, and somewhere far away, Pudding's tuba went up and down, up and down.

Captain Hollis took out his stamp and pressed it, very gently, onto Juniper's report card. Napping: Excellent. He tucked the card under her hoof, so she would find it when she woke.

Then he laid his own grey chin on the hay and listened to the snowflakes falling past the window, one, and then another, and then another. And soon the whole barn was asleep.