The Owl

It was warm enough this evening that we ate with the back door open. A gentle breeze rustled the kitchen curtains and I could hear a hooting owl from the woods down around our barn. When I stepped out on the deck to get a look at the darkening sky, the half-moon directly overhead looked as if it were wearing a shower cap.
There has been a lot of timber cut in our area and I feared the owl had gone further south away from the sound of screaming chainsaws. When the heavy equipment backs up, it makes a beeping sound not unlike that of a heart monitor in an emergency room. These sounds are disquieting for me so I can't imagine what it does for the critters that once called those woods home.
It was good hearing the owl. I hope he makes his home on our property where the most disturbing sound he's likely to hear is a banjo when we have our spring cookout in April. Truth is, there are folks who say they would rather hear a chainsaw than the sound of a speeding banjo.
I'd love to buy all the land around me and plant it in Oak, Hickory, and Pine and turn it into a sanctuary for birds and small game. The owl would be the boss and if anyone wanted to cut timber, they could discuss it with him.