The Tale of Solomon Owl, Arthur Scott Bailey [first color ebook reader .txt] 📗
- Author: Arthur Scott Bailey
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Solomon Needs a Change
For some time Solomon Owl had known that a queer feeling was coming over him. And he could not think what it meant. He noticed, too, that his appetite was leaving him. Nothing seemed to taste good any more.
So at last, one fine fall evening he went to see Aunt Polly Woodchuck, who was an herb doctor; for he had begun to worry about his health.
[pg 028]“It's lucky you came to-day,” said Aunt Polly. “Because to-night I'm going to begin my winter's nap. And you couldn't have seen me again till spring—unless you happened to come here on ground-hog day, next February.... What appears to be your trouble?” she inquired.
“It's my appetite, partly,” Solomon Owl said. “Nothing tastes as it did when I was a youngster. And I keep longing for something, though what it is I can't just tell.”
Aunt Polly Woodchuck nodded her head wisely.
“What have you been eating lately?” she asked.
Solomon Owl replied that he hadn't eaten anything but mice since the leaves began to turn.
“H-m—the leaves are nearly all off the trees now,” the old lady remarked. “How many mice have you eaten in that time?”
[pg 029]Solomon said that as nearly as he could remember he had eaten twenty-seven—or a hundred and twenty-seven. He couldn't say which—but one of those numbers was correct.
Aunt Polly Woodchuck threw up her hands.
“Sakes alive!” she cried. “It's no wonder you don't feel well! What you need is a change of food. And it's lucky you came to me now. If you'd gone on like that much longer I'd hate to say what might have happened to you. You'd have had dyspepsia, or some other sort of misery in your stomach.”
“What shall I do?” asked Solomon Owl. “Insects are scarce at this season of the year. Of course, there are frogs—but I don't seem to care for them. And there are fish—but they're not easy to get, for they don't come out of the water and sit on the bank, as the frogs do.”
“How about pullets?” Aunt Polly inquired.
[pg 030]At that Solomon Owl let out a long row of hoots, because he was pleased.
“The very thing!” he cried. “That's what I've been wanting all this time. And I never guessed it.... I'll pay you for your advice the next time I see you,” he told Aunt Polly. And Solomon Owl hurried away before she could stop him. Since he had no intention of visiting her on ground-hog day, he knew it would be spring before he saw Aunt Polly Woodchuck again.
The old lady scolded a bit. And it did not make her feel any pleasanter to hear Solomon's mocking laughter, which grew fainter and fainter as he left the pasture behind him. Then she went inside her house, for she was fast growing sleepy. And she wanted to set things to rights before she began her long winter's nap.
[pg 031]Meanwhile, Solomon Owl roamed restlessly through the woods. There was only one place in the neighborhood where he could get a pullet. That was at Farmer Green's chicken house. And for some reason he did not care to visit the farm buildings until it grew darker.
So he amused himself by making the woods echo with his strange cry, “Whoo-whoo-whoo, whoo-whoo, to-whoo-ah!” And now and then he threw in a few “wha-whas,” just for extra measure.
Many of the forest folk who heard him remarked that Solomon Owl seemed to be in extra fine spirits.
“Probably it's the hunter's moon that pleases him!” Jimmy Rabbit remarked to a friend of his. “I've always noticed that old Solomon makes more noise on moonlight nights than at any other time.”
[pg 032]The hunter's moon, big and yellow and round, was just rising over Blue Mountain. But for once it was not the moon that made Solomon Owl so talkative. He was in fine feather, so to speak, because he was hoping to have a fat pullet for his supper. And as for the moon, he would have been just as pleased had there been none at all that night. For Solomon Owl never cared to be seen when he visited Farmer Green's chicken house.
[pg 033]The Blazing Eyes
It was some three hours after sunset when Solomon Owl at last reached Farmer Green's place. All was quiet in the chicken house because the hens and roosters and their families had long since gone to roost. And except for a light that shone through a window, the farmhouse showed not a sign of life.
Everything was as Solomon Owl wished it—or so he thought, at least, as he alighted in a tree in the yard to look about him. He wanted no one to interrupt him when he should go nosing around the chicken house, to find an opening.
[pg 034]To his annoyance, he had not sat long in the tree when the wood-shed door opened. And Solomon stared in amazement at the strange sight he saw.
A great head appeared, with eyes and mouth—yes! and nose, too—all a glaring flame color. Solomon had never seen such a horrible face on man or bird or beast. But he was sure it was a man, for he heard a laugh that was not to be mistaken for either a beast's or a bird's. And the worst of it was, those blazing eyes were turned squarely toward Farmer Green's chicken house!
Solomon Owl was too wary to go for his fat pullet just then. He decided that he would wait quietly in the tree for a time, hoping that the man would go away.
[pg 035]While Solomon watched him the stranger neither moved nor spoke. And, of course, Solomon Owl was growing hungrier every minute. So at last he felt that he simply must say something.
“Who-who-who-are-you?” he called out from his tree.
But the strange man did not answer. He did not even turn his head.
“He must be some city person,” Solomon Owl said to himself. “He thinks he's too good to speak to a countryman like me.”
Then Solomon sat up and listened. He heard a scratching sound. And soon he saw a plump figure crawl right up into his tree-top.
It was Fatty Coon!
“What are you doing here?” Solomon Owl asked in a low voice, which was not any too pleasant.
“I'm out for an airing,” Fatty answered. “Beautiful night—isn't it?”
[pg 036]But Solomon Owl was not interested in the weather. “I don't suppose you've come down here to get a chicken, have you?” he inquired.
Fatty Coon seemed greatly surprised at the question.
“Why—no!” he exclaimed. “But now that you speak of it, it reminds me that Farmer Green's saving a pullet for me. He was heard to say not long ago that he would like to catch me taking one of his hens. So he must have one for me. And I don't want to disappoint him.”
At first Solomon Owl didn't know what answer to make. But at last he turned his head toward Fatty.
“Why don't you go and get your pullet now?” he asked.
[pg 037]“There's that man down below, with the glaring eyes—” said Fatty Coon. “I've been waiting around here for quite a long time and he hasn't looked away from the chicken house even once.... Do you know him?”
“No! And I don't want to!” said Solomon Owl.
“S-sh!” Fatty Coon held up a warning hand. “Who's that?” he asked, peering down at a dark object at the foot of their tree.
Then both he and Solomon saw that it was Tommy Fox, sitting on his haunches and staring at the big head, with its blazing eyes and nose and mouth.
“Not looking for chickens, I suppose?” Solomon Owl called in a low tone, which was hardly more than a whisper.
But Tommy Fox's sharp ears heard him easily. And he looked up, licking his chops as if he were very hungry indeed. And all the while the stranger continued to stare straight at the chicken house, as if he did not intend to let anybody go
[pg 038]prowling about that long, low building to steal any of Farmer Green's poultry.
It was no wonder that the three chicken-lovers (two in the tree and one beneath it) hesitated. If the queer man had only spoken they might not have been so timid. But he said never a word.
[pg 039]Watching The Chickens
Solomon Owl and Fatty Coon couldn't help laughing at what Tommy Fox said to them, as they sat in their tree near the farmhouse, looking down at him in the moonlight.
“I'm here to watch Farmer Green's chickens for him—” said he—“to see that no rat—or anybody else—runs away with a pullet.”
[pg 040]“Farmer Green has someone else watching for him to-night,” said Solomon Owl, when he had stopped laughing. “There's that strange man! You can see how he keeps his glaring eyes fixed on the chicken house. And unless I'm mistaken, he's on the lookout for you.”
“No such thing!” Tommy Fox snapped. And he looked up at Solomon as if he wished that he could climb the tree.
“Here comes somebody else!” Fatty Coon exclaimed suddenly. His keen eyes had caught sight of Jimmy Rabbit, hopping along on his way to the vegetable garden, to see if he couldn't find a stray cabbage or a turnip.
Solomon Owl called to him. Whereupon, Jimmy Rabbit promptly sat up and looked at the odd trio. If it hadn't been for Tommy Fox he would have drawn nearer.
“Do you know that stranger?” Solomon Owl asked him, pointing out the horrible head to Jimmy.
“I haven't the pleasure,” said Jimmy Rabbit, after he had taken a good look.
[pg 041]“Well,” said Solomon, “won't you kindly speak to him; and ask him to go away?”
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