Owlet's Day

Owlet sat blinking in the early morning light, high in the cherry tree. He had been out all night - as owls are - and he was sleepy. But he wasn’t ready to head back to the Hollow yet. He’d never seen a Day. Night, yes, plenty of those. But never a Day.

He wondered about Day. What was Day like? Why did he and his clutch-mates always miss Day? 

“Night is better,” Mama said. “Night is for owls.”

But is it? He wondered. What makes Night better? What makes Day for sleeping? 

He knew other creatures, neighbors in the woods, did not sleep in the Day. The squirrels, for instance. They slept at Night, and woke up for Day. They tore through the treetops, chasing each other, jumping from branch to branch. Sometimes they woke him - squirrels were very noisy - and he would peer out of the Hollow and watch them. Silly squirrels! What were they running for? So noisy!

Not like owls. Owls made their way through the treetops, too, but owls did it silently. Stealthily.

At least, Mama soared silently and stealthily. Owlet hadn’t really mastered soaring yet - silently or not. Mama made it look easy. But the tree Owlet lived in was so high! Dropping off the high branch to practice soaring silently seemed scary. 

He knew he could do it. That’s what owls do. 

But - not - yet. 

He sat, considering Day. Just once, he thought, he’d like to see Day. 

Why not today? His soaring practice had taken him to this spot in the cherry tree. Why not stay here? Why not see Day today?

He blinked as Day got lighter. The sun was so much brighter than the moon. He was used to the moon. He liked the moon. It was pretty, and it was interesting, because it changed. Sometimes it was big and bright, round and orange. Sometimes it was halfway there, like an apple sliced in half, white and shiny. Sometimes it was a tiny sliver, more silver than orange or white. Sometimes it disappeared, and the Night sky was very dark. He liked those Nights that were dark; but he missed the moon when it hid.

As the sun rose, the woods started to get noisier. The crickets and the katydids quieted down, but the birds took over the chorus. And the tree frogs sang, especially when the morning was wet, like this morning was. 

Owlet liked the sound the tree frogs made. It was a pretty trill, and they sounded so happy! It made him smile.

One tree frog suddenly started singing not far from Owlet. Where was he? Owlet looked around him, peering into the shadowy spots in the leaves, until he finally spotted the frog. It was grey-green, like the bark of the tree, and very hard to see. But it wiggled when it sang, so he saw it. He knew frogs were tasty; but he wasn’t hungry, so he didn’t eat it. He just watched it, and listened to its song.

A grey and white bird, small and perky, touched down on a branch not far from Owlet. Owlet turned his head around halfway so he could see the little bird better. He blinked at the bird. She fluttered her wings at him, looking confused.

“Why are you here?” the little bird asked.

“Why not?” Owlet responded.

“Well,” the little bird chirped, “aren’t you an owl? Owls sleep in the Day. They come out at Night. Don’t you know that?”

“Most owls do,” Owlet replied. “But I want to see Day.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

The little bird tipped her head, thinking about it. “Why not, indeed,” she finally said. “Have a nice Day!” she called as she flew away.

Owlet fluffed his feathers, blinked his huge eyes, and settled more comfortably on his branch.

A squirrel scampered by, followed by her sister. When they saw Owlet, they stopped suddenly, chittering at each other. 

“What’s that?” asked the first squirrel.

“I think it’s an owl!” the second squirrel gasped. 

“An owl? In the daytime?” the first squirrel scoffed. “Night is for owls! Day is for squirrels!”

“Silly owl!” The squirrels chuckled together and scampered away.

Silly squirrels, Owlet thought.

The sun rose higher, and the Day got warmer. The warm sun made Owlet sleepy. He blinked, and blinked, slowly, slowly, his eyelids heavy, so sleepy. Finally, his eyes stayed closed; Owlet slept. 

The next time he opened his eyes, it was Night! He blinked and looked around him. 

“Oh, dear,” he said. “I missed Day. Again! And I so wanted to see Day…”

“Who…whoo…whooo,” he heard. The other owls were waking up, preparing for Night. Owlet blinked his eyes, then opened them wide, gazing around the dark forest.

“Oh, well,” he thought. “Maybe another Day.” And he silently soared through the darkening treetops of Night.