The lynx and the yellow birch

Long ago, when trees still spoke to animals, a young lynx roamed the boreal forest alone. His eyesight was sharp, but his mind remained filled with hesitation. Every trail seemed uncertain, every decision veiled by persistent doubt.

One clear evening, as the moon rose above the icy hills, a soft murmur vibrated among the tree trunks. It was neither the voice of the wind nor the cry of a night bird. It was the deep song of a yellow birch, a great guardian with golden leaves and luminous bark.

The lynx stepped forward, intrigued.

The birch tree made its golden branches tremble.

Approach, lynx without a path. You carry within you a powerful vision, but your mind remains clouded. Let me offer you clarity.

The lynx placed its paw on the warm bark. A soft light then crossed its mind, revealing the invisible paths under the snow, the ancient tracks left by travelers, the tiny signs that others never saw.

He understood that his true strength was not speed or power, but inner vision, the kind that illuminates the hidden paths of the world and the heart.

The yellow birch tree imparted one last piece of wisdom to him:

When your thoughts grow dark, return to me or to one of my kind. We carry the light that beings need.

Since then, it is said that the lynx never hunts without first touching the trunk of a yellow birch tree. And when humans doubt their path, they walk among these golden trees to calm their minds.

Because the yellow birch is not just a tree.

It is a guardian of inner light, and the lynx has become its messenger.