Owls in the Family
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The adventures of two owls who shake up an entire neighborhood and turn a house topsy-turvy.
owls had to come along. Our Ford was a convertible with a rumble-seat. (A rumble-seat, something cars don’t have any more, was a sort of folding seat placed where the trunk is on a modern car.) This was where Mutt, the owls, my friends and I used to ride. Mutt always rode with his head and front feet stuck away out over the side of the car, while Bruce or I held onto his tail so he wouldn’t fall out on his nose. The owls used to perch on the back of the rumble-seat, and they had to hang on for
then he jumped over to the door and put his head against the wire mesh. I reached down and tickled him behind his “horns” for a minute and he seemed to think things were all right again. He climbed back up to his perch and fluffed out his feathers for the night. I said: “Good-by, old owls. You look after each other. Someday, maybe, I’ll be back….” BOOKS BY FARLEY MOWAT People of the Deer (1952, revised edition 1975) The Regiment (1955, new edition 1973, paperback edition 1989) Lost in
by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the publisher—or, in case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, a licence from the Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency—is an infringement of the copyright law. Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication Mowat, Farley, 1921— Owls in the family eISBN: 978-1-55199-199-3 1. Owls—Fiction. I. Frankenberg, Robert. II. Title.
work building something that he called a “blind.” What this was, really, was a little tent fixed on a platform of sticks high up in another tree, but close to the owl tree. It took a couple of hours to build the blind. Bruce and I went scrounging for pieces of wood and, when we brought them back, Mr. Miller hauled them up the chosen tree with a rope and nailed them into place. When he had a platform built he hauled up the tent. The tent had a round hole, about as big as your fist, in the front
could do anything by himself, and so he would just sit on the lawn and whimper until I picked him up and put him on my other shoulder. I think Weeps’s spirit must have been broken in the oil drum, because as long as I knew him he was always afraid of doing things. With both owls riding on my shoulders I used to go down the street to where our gang played games in an empty lot. Can-the-can was a favorite game that spring; sort of a combination of baseball and football. We used an inflated rubber