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Updated: May 14, 2025
His fourteen pounds of flesh and bone landed with the force of a stone, and Oohoomisew was torn from his hold and flung with a great flutter of wings upon his side. Before he could recover his balance Miki was at him again, striking full at his head, where he had struck at the wounded crane.
And Oohoomisew, the old owl, might have said to Papayuchisew: "You little fool use your wings and fly!" They did neither and the fight began. Papayuchisew started it, and with a single wild yelp Baree went back in a heap, the owlet's beak fastened like a red-hot vise in the soft flesh at the end of his nose. That one yelp of surprise and pain was Baree's first and last cry in the fight.
It may be that Baree thought it was Oohoomisew and that he still remembered vividly the treacherous assault and fierce battle of that night when, as a puppy, he was dragging his sore and wounded body through the mystery and fear of the big timber. For he did more than to show his fangs. He tore the owl into pieces. There were plenty of rabbits in Pierrot's traps, and Baree did not go hungry.
Swift as Baree had been, Oohoomisew was equally swift to take advantage of his opportunity. In an instant he had swooped upward. There was a jerk, a rending of feathers from flesh and Baree was alone on the field of battle. Baree had not killed, but he had conquered. His first great day or night had come. The world was filled with a new promise for him, as vast as the night itself.
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