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- Herausgeber: Kelly Johnson
- Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
- Sprache: Englisch
In Kira the Kingfisher Keeps Calm, a serene kingfisher named Kira chooses stillness and observation over the frantic activity of her fellow forest birds. While others zip, flap, and chatter through the fast-feathered forest, Kira perches quietly above a peaceful bend in the river, finding strength in patience and joy in the details of the natural world. Though the other birds question her calm ways, Kira remains centered and connected to the quiet rhythm of the forest. Through her gentle wisdom and deep attentiveness, she teaches others that slowing down can reveal hidden beautyand that sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do is simply pause, breathe, and truly see.
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Seitenzahl: 91
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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IMPRESSUM
Kira the Kingfisher Keeps Calm
Author: Kelly Johnson
© 2025 Kelly Johnson.
All rights reserved.
Author: Kelly Johnson
Contact: 903 W Woodland Ave, Kokomo, IN 46902
Email: [email protected]
Disclaimer
This eBook is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.
Table of Contents K
Chapter 1: The Fast-Feathered Forest
Chapter 2: A Different Pace
Chapter 3: A Ruffled Morning
Chapter 4: Breathe, Blink, Be Still
Chapter 5: The Search Begins
Chapter 6: A Nest in Need
Chapter 7: The Quiet Leader
Chapter 8: A Storm Returns
Chapter 9: The Calm Celebration
Chapter 10: The Gift of Stillness
Title: Kira the Kingfisher Keeps Calm
Author: Kelly Johnson
Chapter 1: The Fast-Feathered Forest
In a lively forest nestled beside a winding, silver-blue river, the air was always filled with a fluttering flurry of wings and cheerful birdcalls. Birds of every kind soared above the treetops, zipped through leafy branches, and chirped in bursts of joyous chatter. Cardinals perched high in the oaks, their bright red feathers glowing like flames as they called out the morning’s weather reports with clear, ringing notes. Jays flapped back and forth between the trees, delivering the latest news in excited squawks that echoed through the woods. Swallows, sleek and swift, raced each other from one end of the sunlit clearing to the other, their laughter mixing with the rustling leaves as they chased the wind.
From the very moment the first pale light of dawn slipped over the horizon, the forest awoke with a lively, buzzing energy. The golden rays spilled gently through the thick canopy above, filtering down in scattered beams that danced and flickered like tiny fireflies across moss-covered stones, fallen leaves, and the sparkling surface of the river below. Every leaf seemed to flutter with life, stirred softly by the awakening breeze and the fluttering wings of countless birds starting their day. Feathers, loosened from early preening, drifted lazily through the air like delicate snowflakes, spiraling downward to settle quietly on the forest floor, the muddy riverbank, and the swaying reeds that lined the water’s edge. This was a place alive with ceaseless motion—busy, bright, and breathtakingly beautiful, where every corner seemed to hum with the pulse of nature’s morning chorus.
The river itself sang its own gentle song—a low, steady murmur that wound its way through the trees like a gleaming ribbon of glass. Its surface shimmered and glistened under the growing light, reflecting the vast, shifting sky above, the flutter of wings darting overhead, and the tall grasses that swayed and bowed gracefully along its banks. Here and there, delicate water lilies floated serenely in the slower bends, their pale blossoms unfolding to greet the sun with soft petals kissed by dew. Dragonflies skimmed lightly across the surface, their iridescent wings flickering with flashes of blue, green, and violet as they darted back and forth, weaving through shafts of sunlight like tiny airborne jewels.
Yet, amid all this swirling movement and joyful noise, not every bird joined the morning’s frantic whirl.
Kira the Kingfisher was different.
While others around her zipped and darted with wild speed, their voices rising in excited chatter and hurried songs, Kira preferred a quieter path. Each morning, she returned to the same familiar perch—a smooth, crooked limb of an ancient willow tree that stretched gracefully out over the slowest, calmest bend of the river. From this perfect vantage point, she sat motionless and still, a living statue shimmering in deep blues and radiant teals. Her feathers caught the soft morning light, gleaming like polished gemstones set against the lush greens and earthy browns of the forest backdrop.
She breathed in rhythm with the gentle flow of the river below, her chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. Around her, the forest pulsed with life, but Kira’s presence was a steady calm—a quiet island of serenity amidst the lively energy swirling around her. She did not need to chase the fast-moving currents or shout to be heard. Instead, she watched and listened, finding beauty not in haste but in the delicate details: the gentle ripple of water curling around a stone, the subtle shift of shadows as the sun climbed higher, the soft rustle of leaves stirred by a passing breeze.
In this peaceful stillness, Kira felt deeply connected—not just to the forest, but to herself. And through her quiet example, she gently showed the other birds that there was strength in patience, power in calm observation, and joy in simply being present to the world as it unfolds.
Her sharp, dark eyes scanned the gently rippling water below, watching patiently for the slightest movement. She noticed the way a ripple slid past a floating leaf, the sudden flash of a fish beneath the surface, or the delicate drift of a fallen petal on the current. Kira was not in a hurry. She breathed slowly and deeply, feeling the pulse of the river and the forest around her, finding peace in the quiet moments between action.
The other birds often wondered about her calm ways. “Why doesn’t she fly faster? Why doesn’t she chirp louder or race the others?” they asked each other, curious but sometimes impatient. But Kira never felt the need to rush. She had learned that sometimes, stillness was the greatest strength of all.
In a forest where life never stopped moving, Kira’s quiet watchfulness was a gentle reminder that not every story needed to be shouted or hurried. Sometimes, the most important moments happen in the spaces between—the pauses where the world holds its breath and listens.
And so, day after day, Kira sat on her crooked branch, a calm and steady presence by the riverbend, ready to greet whatever the day might bring.
Kira didn’t flap, didn’t fuss, and rarely rushed. She sat. She breathed. She waited.
The river beneath Kira whispered its secrets softly, winding gracefully through clusters of tall, swaying cattails and weaving beneath smooth stepping stones worn by countless seasons. Its surface was like a living mirror, reflecting the towering trees that lined its banks in perfect clarity—each leaf, branch, and cloud mirrored in the gentle flow. Tiny ripples danced playfully across the water, catching the sunlight and scattering glimmers like scattered diamonds. Occasionally, a silver fish would break the surface with a sudden leap and splash, sending concentric waves outward that shimmered and twirled before fading back into calm.
This was Kira’s world—a quiet symphony of water and light and life. And it was here that she moved with precision and grace, her motions as fluid as silk slipping through fingers. When the moment came—a flicker beneath the surface, a subtle shift in the current—Kira was quick as a blink, her body cutting through the air and water in a swift, seamless dive. One flash, one graceful swoop, and just as suddenly, she would rise back to the surface and return to perfect stillness, perched like a jewel on her crooked branch.
The other birds, however, didn’t quite understand her way of being.
“Why don’t you flap more?” chirped a young finch one bright morning, buzzing her tiny wings with restless energy. She flitted about in nervous circles, her voice sharp and urgent, full of the excitement and impatience of youth.
“Don’t you want to win a flying race?” panted a robin, his chest heaving from his dizzying loops around the tallest oak. His eyes sparkled with competitiveness and eagerness, breathless from speed.
“You’re missing all the fun!” called a parrot from a nearby vine, swinging wildly like a feathered comet shooting through the trees. His laughter echoed like bells, bright and boisterous.
But Kira simply smiled, a soft and knowing smile that never seemed rushed or forced. She tucked her wings gently against her sides and returned her steady gaze to the water below, unfazed by the clamor around her.
She didn’t mind being different.
She cherished the quiet hum of the breeze as it rustled through the leaves, the gentle murmur of the river as it carried stories downstream, and the cool, comforting shade cast by the ancient trees. She loved the way the world revealed itself when she slowed down—how the sunlight played on a dragonfly’s wings, how a fallen leaf drifted lazily in the current, how the air smelled faintly of earth and water and growing things.
In a forest alive with fast feathers, flapping wings, and endless chatter, Kira was a still spot in the rushing current—a calm, steady presence that offered a different kind of beauty.
And though the others didn’t realize it yet, this calm, quiet strength was about to become more important than any of them could ever imagine.
For in the coming days, when the forest faced its greatest challenge, it would be Kira’s steady heart and gentle patience that would help guide them all safely through the storm.
Chapter 2: A Different Pace
The sun had climbed a little higher now, sending golden beams filtering through the thick canopy above. The light scattered and danced on the forest floor and the leaves overhead like a swarm of flickering lanterns, casting shifting patterns that seemed to move with the gentle sway of the branches. The forest was alive with movement and sound—a symphony of wings fluttering, beaks clicking and chattering, and feathers flashing in brilliant streaks of color that crisscrossed the sky like streaks of lightning.
A pair of sparrows zipped playfully by, caught up in a lively game of tag. Their tiny wings beat rapidly, fluttering like soft whispers as they darted through shafts of sunlight filtering down between the branches. Their movements were fluid and joyful, weaving effortlessly through the towering trees as if the forest itself were their playground. Their chirps and laughter echoed softly, blending with the gentle sounds of the woods.
Nearby, a woodpecker tapped away at the rough bark of an ancient pine, its rhythmic drumming sending steady pulses into the air. The sound was deep and resonant, like the heartbeat of the forest itself—a grounding, reassuring thump that connected every living thing in a quiet, shared rhythm. Each tap echoed through the canopy, a steady percussion that set a natural tempo for the bustling life around it.
Not far off, a group of jays gathered near a cluster of berry bushes bursting with ripe, juicy red fruit. Their voices rang out loud and boisterous, a mixture of sharp calls and animated debate. They argued passionately over which branch provided the best vantage point for breakfast, their bright eyes sparkling with excitement and curiosity. Their chatter was a lively thread woven into the forest’s rich tapestry of sound, full of energy and personality.
