The Owl and The Boys

I used to enjoy our night hikes on our property. Just past the swamps the trail angled off toward the right where we had the option of staying on the trail to the Matson Road or hanging a sharp right and moving off trail back into the depth of our forest. It was on just that occassion where our kids heard their first wild owl making a faint hooting sound which in the pitch of blackness sent shivers up and down their spine. Some had never really heard an owl before.

One of the kids thought it was a ghost and he huddled closer to me. Another laughed and said, “That’s just an old owl!” I asked him if he was sure about that and that caused him to rethink his glibness. “Isn’t it?” The hooting got louder and louder as we approached the area that the owl was situated but by the time we arrived at what I thought might be the place the owl had vanished along with his hooting. “I guess he didn’t care a hoot about us seeing him, guys”. Ouch! Yes, that was bad! For that particular night, though, that was something to be remembered by each of the kids on that hike and it was talked about on the way home back to Indiana.