The Other Island, drastically cut and closer to better

The Other Island

By Amy Wilensky



One morning, as the sand glinted in the sunlight and the waves sent white froth up on the shore of a beautiful island, two friends were sitting on a pile of smooth grey rocks, gazing out at the horizon. The friends were Felix, a small but very determined bird, and his best friend Boo, the kindest, most good-natured giraffe you could ever hope to meet. The object of their gaze was another island: a speck in the distance that seemed about a million miles away. 



All around Felix and Boo, their own island bustled with life. As many kinds of birds as there are shells in the sea trilled and warbled in their cozy nests. Friendly speckled crabs scurried about on the soft white sand, and lean gentle wolves with mournful howls rested beneath the pomegranate trees. Giraffes lay in hammocks, humming along to the birdsong.

Boo thought their island was just about perfect, which was she was so surprised when Felix started complaining. “It’s so boring here,” he said.

“Boring?” said Boo, who had just been thinking how happy she was.

“Yes,” said Felix, in a super grumpy voice. “There’s nothing to do on this boring old island.”

“We could organize a crab race,” Boo suggested. Felix loved crab races.

“Again?” Felix said. “We did that three times last week.”

“We could teach the wolves to…tap-dance?” Felix was still staring out to sea. All of a sudden he flew straight up into the sky. “I’ve got it,” he shouted. “The best Big Idea ever!”

Which is how Boo found herself dragging logs down to the beach from the woods in the middle of the island, as Felix plucked reeds with his beak. A few hours later, they had constructed a simple but very sturdy raft, complete with a sail stitched together from pomegranate leaves.

“I wonder if they have peacocks over there?” Felix mused, as they pulled the raft into the water and hopped on.

“I doubt it,” said Boo quietly, her head drooping just a little.


“And coconuts!” Felix added, ignoring Boo. “I hear coconut milk is indescribably delicious.” Boo imagined little Felix, fierce as he was, trying to peck a hole in a rock-hard coconut.

“Felix?” said Boo.

“What, Boo?” said Felix.

“Can we just sail quietly for a while?” Felix was so excited he didn’t notice that Boo’s eyes were filled with tears.

“Sure, whatever,” said Felix, hopping from log to log with excitement.

The other island got closer and closer. Soon, the raft bumped up on the sand. “Land ho!” shouted Felix. They climbed off and stood on the beach, which was pink, not white, looking around. Suddenly, they both jumped, at the sound of a voice near their feet.

“And who are you?” It was a turtle, not much bigger than Felix, with a mottled dark shell and inquisitive face. “Or should I say, what are you?”



“Um, I’m a bird,” said Felix. “Like a peacock?” he said. 



“I don’t know what that is,” the turtle said, turning his tiny head to look at Boo. “And you?”



“I’m a giraffe,” said Boo said. The turtle looked perplexed.

“My name is Horace,” he said. “And I, of course, am a turtle. I don’t know what use we have for birds and giraffes around here, but we don’t get many visitors. Actually, I’m almost four hundred years old, and you’re the first in my lifetime. Would you like to see the rest of the island?” Felix sighed happily.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Felix and Boo followed Horace into a cool, piney forest, through a meadow, where wildflowers bloomed in bursts of orange and red like miniature planets and suns, and up a long, high hill, where he finally stopped.



“Well? “ said Horace. Felix and Boo looked down and saw a brilliant patchwork quilt with squares of pink flowering trees in full bloom, the greenest pastures, and buttery yellow sandy stretches rippled with blue bubbling brooks. Boo had to admit it. The other island was spectacular. Felix’s beak was open in awe.

Suddenly, they realized they were surrounded. Turtles large and small had gathered in clusters around them, along with tan, horse-sized creatures with humps on their backs and faces like llamas. “Camels,” whispered Felix to Boo. “I saw them in a book once.”

“This is Felix and Boo,” announced Horace. “They’ve come from, well, somewhere else, and they want to see our island.” Felix waved his wing at the crowd. Boo rolled her eyes. Felix always liked an audience.

It was arranged for a couple of camels to take them touring and show them the sights. But first: a feast. Platters of woven reeds were brought out, holding piles of brown fuzzy fruits cut open to reveal green insides flecked with tiny black seeds.

 Felix and Boo ate the kiwi, which tasted a little like lime, a little like banana, but was more delicious than either. They sipped what turned out to be coconut milk from actual coconuts, and even Boo had to admit it was like drinking an afternoon breeze. A camel stood behind each of them as they feasted, and on the back of each camel sat a turtle, with an enormous fan made of kiwi tree leaves.

All that afternoon, they explored the other island. The camels took Felix and Boo to a spring where water bubbled up in all the colors of a sunrise, a cave with walls like crystals, and a spot in a forest where stars shone in the sky not just all night but all day long.
When they were thirsty, turtles appeared with coconut milk. When they were hungry, turtles appeared with slices of kiwi on ice.

When dusk fell, and the sun hovered low, Felix and Boo found themselves back with Horace on the beach with their raft.

“Felix and Boo,” began Horace. “The Turtle Council made an important decision while you were exploring. We are honored by your visit. We would like you to stay.”

“You mean to live?” asked Boo.

“Exactly,” said Horace. “We have already started building your palace.” Boo looked at Felix. Felix looked out at the ocean, where their boring old beautiful island could be seen as a speck in the distance. Suddenly he found himself, for the first time all day, craving a pomegranate.



"That's so lovely of you," Felix said, "but no thank you. If we leave now, we'll make it home before bedtime." Boo breathed an enormous sigh of relief.

A little while later, after Horace had pushed them off into the sea, Boo sat on the raft watching Felix sleep. He had one orange wing around a coconut he'd sweet-talked off Horace. Above the friends, the moon was a crescent in the navy expanse. Across the water, the sounds of the evening concert at home could be heard, ever so faintly. Boo was glad they had gone to the other island, after all.

Sometimes you need to leave to come back home.

Massively Revised The Other Island, still too long....

The Other Island
By Amy Wilensky


Once upon a time there was a bird named Felix and a giraffe named Boo who lived on the most beautiful island in the world.

Although they were nothing alike, Felix and Boo were the best of friends. Felix was small, with blue-black feathers that shimmered in the sunlight, and Boo was tall, with a spotted neck so long that she could peer into Felix’s nest to see if he was awake in the mornings.

Which she did one morning, at sunrise, but the nest was empty. “Felix?” she called. No answer. Finally she found him down on the beach, perched on a pile of smooth, grey stones.

“What are you doing?” asked Boo.
“Look at that island,” said Felix, gesturing at a tiny speck in the distance with one orange wing. “I wonder who lives there.” Boo suddenly felt a little bit nervous.

“Probably just some crabby old crabs,” said Boo. Felix hated crabs. They always tried to pinch at his wings.

“No,” said Felix, in a dreamy voice Boo had never heard before. “There aren’t any crabs there. I just know it somehow. That island is the most beautiful island on earth.”

Boo raised her eyebrows as high as they could go. (yes, some giraffes have eyebrows.) Was Felix kidding? Everyone knew their island was the most beautiful island. She followed Felix’s gaze. All she saw was a little green speck.

“Felix?” she said. Boo did not like where she sensed this was going. “Let’s go to my hammock and eat pomegranates and listen to the other birds wake up and sing.”

“No way.” said Felix, who was not flying in circles above Boo’s head, the way he did when he was coming up with a Big Idea. “I have a Big Idea. We’re going to have an adventure!”

For the next few hours, Felix and Boo worked as hard as a bird and giraffe could work. Felix stitched a sail from pomegranate leaves and reeds with his beak, and Boo dragged driftwood logs for the raft. As they worked, Felix talked nonstop. Boo couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

“Coconuts! They must have coconuts. I’ve always wanted to taste a coconut,” Felix said, and exhausted Boo imagined him pecking away at a hard brown shell with his delicate little beak.

“I like pomegranates,” she whispered. Felix didn’t hear.

When it was done, Boo pushed the raft out into the water. They both got on. “I will be the captain,” announced Felix. Boo didn’t care. She already felt homesick, and they weren’t even over the sandbar.

“Ship ahoy!” yelled Felix, as the sail caught a breeze. They were off.

As the other island grew closer, Felix’s tail feathers shook and shook. All Boo could think about was her little clearing, surrounded by trees with the most delicious leaves a giraffe could ever hope. All Felix could talk about was how boring their island was and how great the other island was going to be. “We might not even want to come back,” he said, and then the raft bumped up on shore.

They got off, and for a moment just stood there, taking it in.

Boo had to admit it: The other island was beautiful. The sand was white instead of pink but as soft as powder. The trees bore large brown fuzzy fruits. “Coconuts!” cried Felix, upon noticing. “I knew they’d have coconuts.”

“Come on, Boo,” shouted Felix, flying in circles again, then landing on her shoulder. “Let’s explore.”

They walked along the beach, and then into a cool, piney, forest, then through a meadow in which wildflowers bloomed in bursts red and orange like miniature planets and suns.

Finally, they came to the top of a hill. They could see the entire other island. It looked like the most colorful patchwork quilt imaginable, with squares of flowering trees in bloom, greenest pastures, buttery yellow sand rippled with bluest brooks.

“I want to see more,” said Felix, after a few minutes. They started down. All afternoon they explored. They saw a spring where the water bubbled up in all the colors of the rainbow. They saw a cave with walls of crystal. And coconuts, thousands of coconuts.

When dusk fell, Felix and Boo found themselves back at their raft. Felix cleared his throat, which meant he had something to say. Boo felt a lump in her throat the size of a coconut.

“Boo?” he began.
“Yes, Felix,” she said, afraid to look at him because tears were welling up in her eyes. She didn’t want to stay but she would if Felix wanted to.
“You see that boring old beautiful island over there?” He gestured with one wing.
“Yes,” said Boo. It was just light enough to make it out on the horizon.

“It’s time to go home,” said Felix.

On the ride back, Felix fell asleep, one wing wrapped around the coconut he’d insisted on bringing. Boo looked up at the moon as the raft pulled smoothly through the gentle waves, a crescent in the navy sky. She was glad they’d gone to the other island after all. Sometimes you have to leave to come back home.