Quit Squawking

I was sitting quietly at the kitchen table with the fan on me trying not to drip on anything.  It was a hot muggy late afternoon. I had the sliding glass door open to catch any small unsuspecting breeze.

The woods in back of the house were getting deeply shadowed, and the robin was trilling to let us know he was delighted that the evening was arriving.  By the way, he is equally thrilled at morning’s dawning! 

As I sat there drinking in the beautiful sounds of the robin, a loud squawk pierced the calm.  I tiptoed to the screen and peeked out.  The only animal I could see was the robin on the ground poking around for some stray worms, seemingly oblivious to the insistent squawking that was now emanating from the trees above.

I went to sit back down again.  The squawking was unrelenting and very loud.  I figured it must be some teenage bird awaiting the parent's return with "Take-Out".  As the constant complaining went on, the sun finally set.  Faintly, I heard the low, ominous hoot of an owl.  I turned off the fan so I could hear better.

“You’d better be quiet, baby bird, or you will be the Take-Out,” I whispered.

The bird squawked twice, but a bit softer now.  Again the owl hooted, closer and louder this time.  
One last very low squawk came from the bird in the treetop… not so much a complaint this time, but more of a disgruntled grumbling to itself. Like “I guess I’ll just take a nap and wait”…

Perhaps this young bird was not so stupid.

 

It reminded me of this little poem I wrote during a writers' workshop we had:

An owl says “Who?”

But I don’t know just why

As he swoops so silently

Down from the sky.

He knows who it is

That he spies on the ground.

Is he trying to scare

A poor mouse with that sound?