Owls in the Family
The adventures of two owls who shake up an entire neighborhood and turn a house topsy-turvy.
we liked it because it made us feel that this was the olden times, and the prairie belonged to us, to the buffaloes and the Indians, and to the prairie wolves. Wol was sitting in the Hanging Tree, and Rex and Mutt had gone off somewhere on a hunting trip of their own. It was growing dusk when we heard a lot of crashing in the trees behind us. We turned around just as two big kids came into sight. They were two of the toughest kids in Saskatoon. If they hadn’t come on us so suddenly, we would
good-natured, but he could get mad. One morning Mother sent me to the store for some groceries. My bike had a flat tire so I had to walk, and Wol walked with me. We were only a little way from our house when we met the postman coming toward us. He had a big bundle of letters in his hand, and he was sorting them and not watching where he was going. Instead of stepping around Wol, he walked right into him. Worse still, he didn’t even look down to see what it was he had stumbled over. He just gave
dear life. Because his eyes used to get sore from the dust of the prairie roads, Mutt had to wear goggles—the same kind that motorcycle riders wear. The sight of a goggled dog, two horned owls, and our prairie schooner used to make people in other cars take a long look at us as they went by. Sometimes they didn’t believe their eyes, and then they would turn their cars around and follow us to make sure they hadn’t been seeing things. During the second summer that the owls lived with us, we went
Mr. Miller was one of our teachers. Bruce and I liked him because he liked the prairie too. He was a great one for taking pictures of birds and things. We knew he would be crazy to get some pictures of the owl—and Mr. Miller never minded climbing trees. “Sure,” I said. “Good idea.” We went off to Haultain Corner and got a drink of water that tasted like old nails, out of the broken pump. Then we walked on home. That night I told Dad about the owl’s-nest, and he looked at Mother, and all he said
the new owl was leaning right against him. Then the new bird closed his eyes and seemed to go to sleep. That’s the way we left them. By the next morning the new owl was up on the branch with Wol, and from that time on, Wol was never lonely. When Dad got home from the office that evening, I told him all about it. I told him the new one was called Weeps, because of the weepy-whistle noise he made all the time. “Two owls!” my father cried, and banged his hand against his forehead. “Now we’ll