An owl woke me before my alarm this morning. I lay in bed listening to his "hoo, hoo, hoo," imagining his ear tufts forming a permanent scowl over his yellow eyes. His hooting began lower than the trees, below my window. Then he moved to the boughs near my roof or perhaps the roof itself. "Hoo, hoo, hoo," he continued. I found myself lulled my his song as though my pillow were his wings. When he was silent, I stiffened and strained to hear him again. I would have slipped outside if I could have caught a glimpse of his regal plumage without his swiveling head turning in my direction. His continued call convinced me of some triumph.
Who, Who Gives a Hoot?
Who, Who Gives a Hoot?
Who, Who Gives a Hoot?
An owl woke me before my alarm this morning. I lay in bed listening to his "hoo, hoo, hoo," imagining his ear tufts forming a permanent scowl over his yellow eyes. His hooting began lower than the trees, below my window. Then he moved to the boughs near my roof or perhaps the roof itself. "Hoo, hoo, hoo," he continued. I found myself lulled my his song as though my pillow were his wings. When he was silent, I stiffened and strained to hear him again. I would have slipped outside if I could have caught a glimpse of his regal plumage without his swiveling head turning in my direction. His continued call convinced me of some triumph.