The acorn is first introduced during Maggie’s ride from the train station to Cherry Tree Cottage in Chapter 7, when Fred announces that he collects acorns, as well as other natural objects. It is not seen again until Chapter 45, when Fred gives it to Maggie to wish her luck with the mission to rescue Rumpus. The acorn is something important to Fred, and it is his way of being with Maggie when she goes down to the farm by herself to scout for Rumpus. The acorn is connected to nature, which is an important source of strength for both Fred and Maggie. It is more special than the other natural objects that Fred collects, such as shells, since an acorn has the potential to grow into a massive and enduring oak tree.

The acorn thus functions as a symbol of hope and potential. It is a reminder of the possibility that even seemingly insignificant things may someday be important. This supports the novel’s arguments for The Importance of Environmental Conservation and for characters Growing into Self-Acceptance. The connection between the acorn and these thematic ideas is reinforced in the acorn’s final appearance in the story’s epilogue, when Maggie shows the acorn to her audience and tells them how she and Fred gathered acorns from the ancient oak in Wildoak forest and used them to plan new oak trees all over Cornwall.

The ancient oak tree that stands at the center of a clearing in Wildoak forest is a symbol of the power of nature to heal and nurture life. This tree is incredibly old—Fred suspects it has seen the change of several human civilizations. It clearly has great power to endure for so long. The tree was wounded by a lightning strike sometime in its past, but it has healed, and when Maggie encounters it, she notes that “The insides of the tree [are] smooth in part, the bark pulled tight like scar tissue,” and despite its wound, Maggie feels a “strange sense of aliveness, as if the old tree were properly alive. Alive like her” (80). The novel’s descriptions often personify the tree, as when it is depicted as having “open arms” like a “sleeping giant,” which reinforces the portrayal of the tree as being intensely alive (79).

The portrayal of the tree as a venerable being with an intense life force makes it less surprising when Maggie feels as if the tree is communicating with her, telling her to be gentle with herself and acknowledging that “It is hard to be human” (81). The ancient oak continues to impress Maggie as a living and sentient being when she is desperate to find a way to deal with Rumpus’s infection—when she touches the tree’s roots, seeking comfort and wisdom, she realizes that the forest itself can help Rumpus. The tree also functions as a shelter for Rumpus, who uses it as a safe spot to sleep and to hide.

Wounds are a motif throughout Wildoak. Some of the wounds the novel portrays are physical, while others are emotional. These wounds are an opportunity for characters to either show compassion or fail to show compassion, a way to demonstrate the healing power of nature, and a pattern that binds together the wounded in a common narrative of overcoming obstacles. The novel opens with Maggie wounding her own hand by driving a pencil into it. Although some characters—such as the school nurse—show no empathy for her, others do. Fred, for example, gently bandages and tends Maggie’s wound until it heals. This is similar to the way that Fred tends to Maggie’s emotional wounds by reassuring her that she is valuable and worthy of respect. In another example, the bird Maggie keeps in her cupboard is a rescue with a wounded wing. First Maggie and then Evelyn nurse the bird until it heals and is ready to fly again. Rumpus, too, is caught in a trap and ends up with a wounded paw, which both Maggie and Wildoak forest have a part in healing.

Even the ancient oak has a split in its trunk, caused by a lightning strike. Unlike the wounds Maggie, the bird, and Rumpus suffer, this is an old wound, and the tree has long since recovered and overcome this obstacle. This points to the future of Maggie’s and Rumpus’s wounds: They may never be fully erased, but they can be healed, and both Maggie and Rumpus can find a way to overcome them. For Maggie and Rumpus, overcoming their wounds is an important part of growing into self-acceptance.

In a recurring motif throughout Wildoak, both Maggie and Rumpus are treated as monstrous because they are hard for others to understand. The word “monster” is first used to describe Rumpus in Chapter 8, when Arabella returns home to discover that Rumpus has created havoc in her home. Instead of taking time to empathize with a frightened and hungry wild animal trapped inside a strange London home, she decides that Rumpus has evil intentions. This characterization of Rumpus is repeated in Cornwall, when villagers spot him and make assumptions, based on his unfamiliarity, that he is dangerous to their pets, livestock, and small children. Since Rumpus cannot speak for himself and make his real intentions known, he is repeatedly called a “monster” by the villagers.

Although the word “monster” is not explicitly applied to Maggie, this is the implication of Nurse Nora’s comments that Maggie is “not normal, not right” (7). Later, the poacher in the forest looks at her “like she [is] contagious” (195). Everywhere Maggie goes in public—her school, the post office, the pub, the village meeting, and so on—she is treated as less than human because of her stutter. Maggie herself realizes the parallels between her situation and Rumpus’s. She tells him, “You can’t tell me what’s wrong…. Because you can’t get the words out…. You and me, Rumpus…we’re the same like that” (172). Maggie and Rumpus struggle to make their intentions and desires known to others, and this is why they are misunderstood. People who lack empathy and kindness are quick to judge Maggie and Rumpus and characterize them as monstrous.