Owls
Thursday, January 8th, 2009
Some nights they go crazy with their calls, like monkeys. On a walk one evening to my mailbox, which is about a quarter mile from my front door, I froze as one swooped past me and landed in a tall oak. It was a barred owl, about 20 inches high, and had a long black snake in its beak, which it draped over the branch on which it perched. I could see only its silhouette, but could tell it was studying me, as I studied it. I called to it awhile, in a poor imitation of its call—something like, hoo, woo, hoo-hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo-o-o-o. It did not seem amused, or fooled, but appeared stoically curious. We must have studied each other for five minutes. Finally, it picked up the snake, which was quite dead, its spasms played out, and flew off through the woods.
For a picture book experience of owls, see the Caldecott winner, Owl Moon, written by Jane Yolen and illustrated by John Schoenherr. Simple, elegant, poetic, it’s a must for every child’s bookshelf.