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Updated: May 20, 2025
But in some other ways he was no different from Solomon Owl, for he was a noisy chap and dearly loved mice—to eat. It happened that the two met in the woods one fine fall evening; and they agreed to go hunting mice together. Now, being so much smaller than Solomon, Simon Screecher was all the spryer. In fact, he was so active that he could catch mice faster than Solomon Owl could capture them.
And they had no sooner settled themselves among the bare branches of the oak when Simon started to amuse himself by giving his well-known quavering whistle. Solomon Owl stopped him quickly. "Don't do that!" he said sharply. "Do you want to scare the Mice?" Simon Screecher cut his whistle off right in the middle of it. "I forgot," he murmured. "But I don't believe my whistling would do any harm.
For a moment he couldn't remember having gone to sleep in the woods. "You're right up under Blue Mountain," said Simon Screecher. "It's a dangerous place for a stranger to sleep. There are birds and beasts a-plenty in these woods that would make a meal of you if they caught you here." Turkey Proudfoot yawned. "I'm not worrying," he replied. "Foxes can't climb trees.
"I don't want to see him to-night," Turkey Proudfoot interrupted. "I hope he won't come this way. Go and find him. And tell him to meet me here to-morrow night." "Oh, very well!" said Simon Screecher to Turkey Proudfoot. "I'll give my cousin your message. I'll tell him that you want him to meet you here in this clearing in the woods to-morrow night." So off Simon Screecher flew.
"You ought to crawl into your hole under the straw whenever Simon Screecher is about the neighborhood," he advised Chirpy one evening, when the two chanced to meet near the fence. "But Simon is around here every night," Chirpy replied. "If I stayed at home from dusk till dawn I couldn't take part in another concert all summer long." Mr. Meadow Mouse said that that would be a great pity.
Benjamin Bat was on the point of rousing Turkey Proudfoot and advising him to change his position when a quavering whistle sent Benjamin hurrying away. He knew the voice of Simon Screecher, Solomon Owl's small cousin. And he had no wish to meet him. Turkey Proudfoot stirred in his sleep.
Society in all ranks is founded on the make-believe that everybody is charming; that we are delighted to see everybody; that everybody is delighted to see us; that it is so good of everybody to come; that we are desolate at the thought that they really must go now. Which would we rather do stop and finish our cigar or hasten into the drawing-room to hear Miss Screecher sing? Can you ask us?
You ought to have your rest!” his cousin exclaimed. Simon knew that if Solomon went all day without sleep he would be frightfully peevish by nightfall. “Well—I’ll try to get forty winks,” Solomon promised. “But I don’t believe I can get more than that, because I have so much on my mind that I’m sure to be wakeful.” Simon Screecher was somewhat worried as they parted.
The boys on the Heights all knew Mr. Beecher and liked to meet him because he always had a word with them. In coming to church one day he met a group of boys. They hailed him in this fashion: "There goes Mr. Beecher, he is a screecher." When he reached the church it seemed to please him to tell the story to the congregation. Whenever Mr.
And I'm as big as any bird in the neighborhood." "You're as big yes! And bigger than most!" Simon Screecher admitted. "But it isn't bigness alone that counts in the woods," he insisted. "What does count, then?" Turkey Proudfoot demanded. "You ought to be able to guess," said Simon Screecher. "It's right in front of your eyes." Turkey Proudfoot was a poor guesser.
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