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Updated: May 20, 2025
"It would be very unlucky for me if I found that I wasn't spry enough to escape Simon Screecher!" Mr. Meadow Mouse had to admit that there was a good deal of truth in Chirpy's remark. But he said he was ready with another suggestion. "It's a good one, too," he declared. "What is it?" Chirpy asked him. "You'll have to think of some other way" said Mr.
When he heard it he turned quickly and hurried back where he came from. "There won't be any fun to-night," he grumbled. Owl Friends "THERE'S no sense in wasting our time here," said Solomon Owl to his small cousin, Simon Screecher. "It's a fine night. The Mice will all be out sooner or later. Let's go over and sit in that old oak on the edge of the meadow!" Simon Screecher was more than willing.
He had not been gone long when a noisy "haw-haw-hoo-hoo" rolled and echoed through the woods. "He's laughing!" Turkey Proudfoot exclaimed. "Solomon Owl is laughing. I wonder what the joke is." He was so curious to know that he actually began to wish that Simon Screecher would hurry back. And after a little while he did. "What was the joke?" Turkey Proudfoot demanded. "I heard you cousin laughing."
Dickie Deer Mouse looked up and spied him, sitting on a low limb. He was not so big as Dickie had supposed. But it was certainly Simon. Dickie knew him, beyond a doubt, by his ear-tufts, which stuck up from his head like horns. "What made you jump when I whistled?" Simon Screecher asked him. "I don't know," Dickie answered, "unless it was you." Simon Screecher chuckled.
That same night Solomon Owl hunted for it for a long time. But he never found it. He decided not to hang out another, for he saw that settling disputes was a dangerous business. Solomon Owl had a small cousin named Simon Screecher. He was unlike Solomon in some respects, because he always wore ear-tufts, and his eyes were yellow instead of black.
While Teddy was standing by the chimney, he heard a rustling and stirring about overhead; one of the little owls clicked its beak in its sleep, and he heard a sleepy, whining voice: "Now just you stop scrouging me. Screecher is scrouging me!" Then he heard the Mother Owl: "Hus-s-s-h! Hus-s-s-h! Go to sleep; it's broad daylight yet." After that all was still again.
Wisdom would say sixty: Father Chronos might divide that by three, and would get scarce a month in addition, hungry as he is for her, and all of us! But Minerva's handmaiden has no age. And now, dear Ugo, you have your opportunity to denounce her as a convicted screecher by night. Do so."
I suppose I'll have to tell you what I mean: it's your beak. And if that isn't right in front of your eyes, I don't know what is." "My beak!" cried Turkey Proudfoot. "I don't call my bill my beak. I call my beak my bill." "Well, beak or bill, yours is a useless thing," Simon Screecher sneered. "It may do well enough to pick up a kernel of corn. But it can't be much good as a weapon.
"Who's that?" gasped Turkey Proudfoot. "That's my cousin, Solomon Owl," Simon Screecher explained. "And he's not far away." "My goodness!" Turkey Proudfoot exclaimed. "If he's as big as his voice he must be enormous." "He's twice my size," said Simon Screecher. "Not nearly as big as you are, of course! But you ought to see his beak. I do believe he could tear you into "
An ideal golf course would be one where the members of the fair sex are content to group themselves about the driving tees and award an honest meed of praise and applause to their fathers, husbands, or sweethearts. "You're up, Thomas," I said when the crack foursome was out of range. Thomas basted out a screecher, and Miss Ross followed with the best shot she ever made.
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