The owl who was too witty to woo

AFEW days ago I was walking the dogs when I noticed a rather plump-looking owl. I thought at first he was just fluffing out his feathers against the chill. But, as I drew closer, I realised he had been over-indulging. Spring was in the air and his thoughts had clearly been turning to finding a female feathered friend — but I’m sure I heard him muttering: ‘Too wide to woo.’ The owl — let’s call him Barney — decided to make himself fitter by doing a few lengths in the pool. By the time he got out, his feathers were so bedraggled he had to admit: ‘Too wet to woo.’ His next thought was he might persuade a female to join him if he presented her with some nesting material. He pecked off the end of a branch on a tree. He brought a twig to woo. Owls have a reputation for wisdom and our friend was no exception — maybe he was just too wise to woo? In desperation, he decided to use a bit of charm. He thought: ‘If I flutter my lashes, I can use two eyes to woo.’ ‘It’s maybe too early in the year,’ he thought. ‘It’s not even Easter yet. It might be better to wait to Whit to woo.’ But then he saw a cheery-looking lady. ‘I’ll woo her with words,’ he thought. But unfortunately she was a bit of a bird-brain and did not appreciate his attempts at humour. ‘Oh no!’ he thought. ‘I’m too witty to woo.’ ‘One more chance,’ he said to himself as he espied a lovely — but large — eagle owl. She had flown from Scotland under the misguided impression it would be warmer in The Weald. He looked at her, then at his own comparatively diminutive stature. ‘I never thought I would think this, but I’m afraid that, in this case, I am too wee to woo.’ ‘Perhaps I’m not intended to marry,’ he sighed. ‘Maybe all this effort is a waste of time. Perhaps I’m a twit to woo.’ With that, he fluttered forlornly away, but his final thought was: ‘Owl be back!’

W. George Tyson, Crowborough, E. Sussex.