Nature Done Wright

The Screech-Owl that couldn’t give a Hoot!  

They call me “Screech” – – Ever wonder Why?

I guess you’ve never heard my cry.

It’s not a hymn or monk-like chant-

It’s more-or-less a haunting rant.

But I’ve got two other calls you know-

The first’s a lilting tremolo.

The second’s like a horse’s whinny-

Starts out loud but then gets skinny.

And if you like the way I “sing”-

You’d love to see me on-the-wing.

I’m not a speedy, flying riot-

I make my living being quiet.

With feathers soft and talons bright-

I feed on critters of the night.

Bugs and birds and long-tailed mice-

Make a diet short on spice.

My housing needs are very few-

A box or hollow tree will do.

Yet if you want me near your house-

Best to check first with your spouse.

For sometimes I leave a meal half eaten-

And you don’t want her on you beatin’.

‘Cause if you get the sudden “boot”-

I’ll try but I can’t give a Hoot!

Otus asio 

(Thanks, Chas!)