The glossy light of the waxing moon illuminated the heads of wheat that stretched skyward in the great wide field. As a light breeze rippled through the grain, the heads of wheat winked in and out, like stars in a sandy brown sky. This expanse of grassy heaven was interrupted only at its center, by a massive elm tree with a broad canopy. The elm had started to lose its leaves.

On the southeast side of this fine elm tree was a hollow that was just the right size for a blue jay. Not too surprisingly, then, a blue jay was currently nestled in this hollow, and was sleeping. As the blue jay slept, the moon gradually rose in the night sky, and its bright light inevitably made its way across the elm tree. The blue jay twitched his feathers. Stealthily, the moonlight approached his hollow, then spilled over into it. It illuminated the farthest corner first, then it crept into the very center of the hollow itself.

The blue jay started and popped open one dark eye. It was instantly pierced by a flood of light. "Awk!" he cried, and he tried to duck into the shadow. But the shadow was not deep enough, so he used a wing to shade his eyes. He peeked through his wingtips at the moon. "Oh! Terrible!" He attempted to turn around in the hollow, but he did not quite have enough room to do so-perhaps a result of the fine dining afforded by the wheat. The blue jay grumbled and turned toward the front, only to be forced to shield his eyes again. "Oh! Dratty drat drat!"

The affronted blue jay did his best to cover his head with his wings. He sat in this pose for several minutes before wing cramps set in (indicating a sad lack of evolutionary foresight). The miserable jay relaxed his wings and sat with his eyes squeezed shut against the light. He was very sleepy. But it was no use. He could still see the light. It was creeping in through the cracks in his eyelids. He grumbled.

Finally, he stood and flew up into the tree and lit on a darkened branch. He could feel the wind, so he hunkered down and fluffed his feathers out. He sat, swaying in the cold breeze, with his eyes closed to the wind and the moon. However, a cold front was coming through, and the breeze became very chilly indeed. The blue jay's teeth would have chattered, if he had had any. Instead, he trembled on the tree branch in the dark. He was wide awake.

The owl found the blue jay in this state, and she lit beside him on the branch. The owl peered at him with one large eye and said, "Thaddeus, what on earth are you doing up here at this time of night?"

The blue jay—whose name was indeed Thaddeus—opened his eyes, glared in the general direction of the owl, and replied, "Oh! I am conducting an experiment to determine at what temperature a beak will freeze shut. Would you care to continue it?"

The owl ruffled her feathers and stretched her neck out. "Well, PARdon me for asking! Just making conversation." They sat side by side in silence for a time. Finally the owl—whose name was Rosie—continued, "Wouldn't it be more comfortable down in your hollow? You look a sight."

Thaddeus glared further. "Awk! Well, yes, I suppose it would be more comfortable in the hollow, were it not completely saturated by a horrific light, which denies me all possibility of sleep, and, therefore, comfort."

Rosie rotated her head around to survey the southeast side of the tree. "Do you mean the moonlight?" she asked.

The glare continued to deepen as Thaddeus replied, "Gak! No, I mean one of those big furless thingys stumbling about with one of their light tube whatsits."

Rosie started and looked around anxiously. "Really? Where?"

"Oh! You twit! Of COURSE there isn't a furless thingy. Of COURSE it's the moonlight." And with that, Thaddeus grumbled and ground his beak.

"Well! Really! You don't have to go about giving false alarms, you know," said Rosie. She peered up at the moon. "It's not yet full. We'll have the light for several nights yet."

"Grk! How am I supposed to sleep?" cried Thaddeus, hopping up and down on the limb.

"Why don't you do what I do and sleep during the day?" answered Rosie helpfully.

Thaddeus gave her a look. "Oh! Because I'd starve, Great Bird of Wisdom. There are no decent bugs out at night, and eating grain at night is a good way to get yourself picked off by who knows what." He eyed her briefly. "Besides, haven't you heard that the early bird gets the worm? Well, I can't very well be asleep then, now can I?"

"It was just a suggestion," she said. She rolled her head around to survey the field. "All this talk of food is making me hungry. I think I'll go and find something juicy and furry." With that, she flew off over the field and left the exhausted blue jay to shiver in the tree.

Thaddeus sat and complained to himself. "Flawed tree! Only decent hollow in miles. Haven't even decorated yet. Mutter mutter moonlight. Mutter in my mutter new hollow…"

Thaddeus sulked until he could no longer stand the cold, then he flew back to his hollow. The moonlight was still shining in, but it was gradually moving on. Thaddeus sat with his eyes clenched shut. In the wee hours of the morning, the moon had gone on her way, and he finally fell asleep.

It was very late in the morning when Thaddeus awoke. He stretched, preened his feathers, and looked out across the wheat field. It shone golden in the bright sunlight. "Oh!" he cried and peered up toward the sun to mark the time. "Oh! Late! Oh!" He remembered the night's distress and became incensed at his situation. "Awk! Dratty drat!"

Thaddeus stomped from limb to limb in the tree, thus cursing. A sleepy voice mumbled, "Keep it down, please? Some birds are trying to sleep." Naturally, this increased the short-tempered jay's consternation. He squawked about the unnaturalness of nocturnal birds, then loudly debated the possibility that owls weren't real birds at all. With a final, "Oh!" he flew across the field to find himself some breakfast, or lunch as it were.

As the day approached its end, the well-stuffed blue jay returned to the elm tree to watch the sun's descent. Rosie had begun to yawn and stretch in preparation for the night. "Find any good food today, Thaddeus?" she asked conversationally.

"Oh! The usual. Some wheat. Some caterpillars. That sort of thing," he replied, still watching the sunset.

Rosie shuddered, but remained polite. "How nice."

Thaddeus sulked as the sun dropped lower and lower. Finally he said, "Oh! Rosie, do you know what can be done about the moon?"

"Done about it?"

"Grk. Yes! To keep it from rising. To—you know—get rid of it."

Rosie turned to face him with her large eyes. "You can't get rid of the moon, Thaddeus. Are you entirely well?"

Thaddeus ignored the question. "Oh! Think, think!" he muttered. He was still thinking when night fell. He returned to his hollow and slept no better than he had the previous night. The moon shone full upon him for several hours. While Rosie hunted, she occasionally heard a shrill "Oh!" from the direction of their tree.

After several days of this routine, it seemed to Rosie that Thaddeus had gone completely mad. He spewed vile epithets at the slightest provocation, and his eyes had acquired a haunted, glazed appearance. Remarkably, he was also losing some weight. He sat in the tree for long periods of the day and night, staring at the sky and muttering to himself.

At long last, on a day just past the full moon, Thaddeus began to laugh and sing, "Oh! I have it! Oh! That's it! Oh! It must be!"

From her nest, Rosie opened a sleepy eye and peered at him. "Thaddeus, what are you on about?"

Thaddeus paused in his dance and turned to her. "I have figured out how to turn off the moon, Rosie."

The directness of his response astonished her. "How is that?" she asked cautiously, not knowing why she was being so cautious.

"Oh! Well!" And with the air of a scientist, he stretched out a wing and explained, "Grk. It is quite logical. I have reasoned it out. Any light, as we know, can be put out. Take the big birdhouse beyond our field here. I have examined it quite closely. It produces light, but it goes away at some point in the night. Those big furless thingys put it out. I have watched them. There are up-down thingys on the walls of their hollow, and they point them down to put out a light. Therefore," and here he paused to smirk knowingly, "all I have to do is go to the moon and push down its up-down thingy."

Rosie hooted lowly, her eyes wide. "Wow, Thaddeus. I didn't realize you were so smart. I mean, that's very clever!" She thought about it for a bit. "What if the moon doesn't have an up-down thingy?"

Thaddeus frowned and said, "Oh! Tisht! Nonsense. It must have an up-down thingy. It's logic!"

"Okay," said Rosie. "I guess if it's logical, it must be so." And with that, she went back to sleep.

Later that evening as the sun set, Rosie got out of her nest and ambled over to Thaddeus, who was watching the horizon expectantly. "Are you waiting for the moon to rise?" she asked.

He snapped, "Oh! No, I'm waiting for those tall furless thingys to come mash geometric designs in the wheat."

Rosie perked up. "Really? They do that?"

Thaddeus grumbled. "Awk! Don't be ridiculous. Of COURSE I'm waiting for the moon! I'm going to fly over to it and flip its up-down thingy."

Rosie thought that it sounded dangerous, but she said nothing and waited with him. Before long, the moon poked over the horizon and gradually started its climb through the sky. Finally Thaddeus couldn't stand it any more, and he launched himself into the air. Rosie called, "Good luck," but Thaddeus flapped upward and didn't seem to hear her.

As he slowly gained altitude, Thaddeus kept his eyes on the moon and thought, "Oh! Now I've got you!" And he flew and flew. And flew. And flew some more. He kept his eye on the moon, but it never really seemed to get closer. But he kept on flying. Thaddeus flew so high that, had he looked down, he would not have been able to see his tree. After awhile, he also became cold; the wind was quite stout at this height. But the fever to extinguish the moon still burned within him, and he pressed on.

After what seemed like days, he finally felt as though he was nearing the moon. The moon began to grow larger. Thaddeus quickened his pace. The moon suddenly grew larger still. And much larger again. "Oh!" he shouted as the moon rapidly expanded before him like a giant balloon. For the first time, Thaddeus became afraid as the moon threatened to engulf him. His wings felt leaden, and his fear froze them in mid-flap. He floated briefly, then slowly fell in toward the moon, sucked in by a sinister force. Great red and pink eyes appeared on the moon's surface, and they winked and flashed at him as he fell. He heard laughter, cackling loudly, reverberating in his head. His eyes were filled with the white light of the moon, and he could see nothing else for a long time. He tried to scream, but the only thing he could get out was a pathetic, "Grk!"

The shiny white surface rose to meet him. He hit. He bounced softly. He landed on his tailfeathers with a blrp. The moonlight world rolled gently beneath him like waves. He carefully stood up and took a step, but the moon's surface was like tar. He pulled hard to extricate his foot and move it forward. The second step was no easier than the first. Where on the moon was he? The horizon stretched on to infinity.

Thaddeus labored across the moon for an hour, he thought, before he paused to rest. It was then that he happened to look up. A giant, white up-down thingy towered above him like a mighty plastic skyscraper. His eyes burned hot. "Oh! Oh!" he shouted. He tried to fly up to it, but he found that he couldn't. The moon's sticky surface had completely entangled his feet. "Oh! No! I can't reach it!" he cried. He pulled and pulled. He beat his wings. The switch on the up-down thingy taunted him, pointing maliciously upward. He doubled his efforts. Alas, after a long struggle, he tired. He sank back into the marshmallow mire. "Oh! Horrible thing!" He wept with exhaustion.

So Thaddeus sat, glaring at his persecutor and bemoaning his fate. "Oh! Awk!" But tears were small consolation, and he soon decided to have another try. He made to stand up, but again found that he couldn't. His tail feathers were now stuck! He thrashed and pulled and squawked, only to become more deeply mired. He stopped to catch his breath. As he rested, the horizon began to rise. No, that wasn't it. Good heavens, the moon was sucking him underneath itself. He was going under! The moon was actually going to swallow him up and suffocate him. He panicked as milky white rose up over his wings. "Oh!" he cried, as it rose up toward his beak.

His short, surly life was flashing before his eyes. Mom and Dad, bringing him half-eaten berries. Jostling his brothers and sisters to get a larger portion. Falling out of the nest—Mom's face receding—working the kinks out of this flying thing. Meeting Janice. Being dumped by Janice. "Roger has a sense of humor." Finding the elm tree in the meadow. "Nice to meet you, I'm Rosie. Mouse?" At last, he fainted.

When Thaddeus awoke, the first thing he saw was a pair of very round eyes. "Hoo-hoo! You're awake!" said Rosie.

"Awk!" he replied. He tried to move, but found himself very stiff indeed. "You don't look so bad, now," Rosie continued.

Thaddeus fluffed out his feathers. "Oh!" He picked up his feet and carefully inspected them. No sign of white stuff. He looked at Rosie. "Grk. What are you doing on the moon?" He was still groggy.

Rosie laughed at that, a deep hooting sound. Thaddeus scowled. "S-sorry, Thaddeus," she said, still giggling. "Don't you remember?"

The scowl deepened. "Oh! I remember it all! It was a trap! The moon—sucked me in—tried to kill me!" He stopped and glared, as Rosie had started laughing again.

"Really, Thaddeus, this is no time for sarcasm. Don't you remember me helping you back into your hollow? I don't know how you managed to land, I really don't. You weren't flying very well—sort of tumbling, actually. But you've been sleeping for days and days." She winked at him. "I'll bet you're hungry!"

Being confused, Thaddeus couldn't think of a good retort. So he sulked. Eventually, he staggered out of his hollow and flew unsteadily across the field, in search of lunch. Rosie just shook her head and went to bed.

For the next few evenings, Thaddeus slept well. He also ate well, so he began to return to his normal, portly size. It was safe to say, from Rosie's point of view at least, that Thaddeus was regaining health and sanity. As proof, he was less grouchy and sarcastic than usual. And this was enough evidence for Rosie.

Fortunately—or unfortunately—it was the fate of dear Thaddeus to regain his good spirits during the course of the new moon. Inevitably, the moon waxed full, and the hollow in which he slept was once again illuminated nightly by that heavenly light.

It was Rosie's fondest hope that Thaddeus had learned a lesson when he attacked the moon, and that he would be able to come to grips with the cyclical moonlight. For his sake (and hers, in truth), she hoped he would not allow his life to be ruled by a continuance of this lunatic rage, as the constant cursing, grumbling, and limb-stomping would certainly wear down his health and disturb her sleep for approximately two weeks out of the month.

Alas, it is not always an ideal world, and while Thaddeus never again ventured to turn off the moon's light, it must be said in all honesty that Rosie did not always get a good day's sleep.