Under the moonlight, a wise grey owl perched on a gnarled branch, the forest spread out below listening quietly. He ruffled his feathers, blinked his big round eyes, and finally said, “The creatures of the forest like to regard me as the repository of knowledge, the guide in all quandaries and the arbiter in all disputes. There is one thing I have not yet learned, and that is the best place in which to acquire wisdom.”
Hardly had he uttered these words than a little brown owl flew down from the branch above, and in a chirping little voice cried, “Oh, Mr. Ollie, I know! I know!”
The old owl looked at her over his spectacles. “Do you, indeed? Then tell me, if you please.”
“Why, Mr. Ollie,” said she, “I think the best place in which to acquire wisdom is from the counsel of others.”
“Much good may it do you,” retorted the grey owl, and retired into a corner of his tree.
Mia, for that was the name of the little owl, hopped three times around the branch on which she was sitting, and then flew up with a soft rustle of her wings into the green tree which overshadowed Ollie’s dwelling.
The next day found the two owls arguing more hotly than ever. “In my time,” said the little grey owl, “young birds got their wisdom by learning from the older ones. Now nobody knows anything. The young birds don’t learn, and the old ones don’t know.”
“That means there is no one to teach them,” said Mia. “But come with me, and I will show you something.”
In a little hollow of the old tree were eight young owls, who had just returned from their first hunting excursion. They had dined with a farmer on his choicest hens.
Now, Mr. Ollie was not so slender as he used to be; still he bore up under Mia’s guidance, and when they reached the tree the little ones plied him hard with questions. The white owl wanted to know if turkeys were good eating; the tawny owl required information as to the choice of a den, etc. One notable young owl asked, “What do you do when you catch your prey after a long and tiring search in vain?”
At this question Ollie disappeared unceremoniously among the branches.
“Don’t be distressed,” said Mia, as she saw the young ones looking rather sheepish. “We all have our ups and downs in hunting; but I think the question asked you is all you that Uncle Ollie can answer. We must each of us play our part. Here is a fable from Esop that I hope will do you good.”
Well, the eight owlets were not so deeply interested in the fable but that they felt they could profit by a little lecture from the storyteller.
She began: “The owl is a solitary wanderer, ill at ease in the society of others. Contrary to the wise birds, old fables tell us, he solaces himself with the society of mortals, is not afraid to tread in their footsteps, and selects even their very abode as his own. The wise old owl is also said to delight in the companionship of birds of ill omen and unclean creatures; he seeks daily the neighborhood of sleeping swine, and creeps on the simplest mortals, especially if they are blind. He is certain to take his time about it; he meditates thereabouts and observes their manners of life, that he may acquire them as if they were something excellent to imitate.”
Mia did not give what she thought of Ollie; as one doctor gives the news about his brother doctor.
“There may be good in being a cad,” she murmured. “But well, I leave that sort of wisdom even to owls.”
“Don’t be hasty in your judgment,” said fickle Fortune. “But tell me more,” said the young owls.
“That is all,” answered Mia. “Uncle Ollie has had his say, and now you have decidedly had yours.”
The next day they told each other their adventures, and in the evening came Ollie, his appetite ravenous after his daily hunt. He had invited all the forest animals to a feast and only awaited their answers. The fox and the stork had come to an understanding on the subject, and had resolved, when the time came, to pay him off with a little jest of their own.
Now while the young owls imparted this to Mia, comically enough, she learned that a thousand and one things were all in readiness. The kittens were to snatch their juicy morsels out of the dishes, like the hanging jars after the doves; the fox and the whole rich kin of that race were to carry in the welcome viands when the forest animals were disposed to feast and make merry.
Mia only hesitated that she might wait for Uncle Ollie’s invitation, which she saw her young friends would not forget.
A tree was shaken, a harmless gust of wind sprang up, a shower began, a lightning flash pierced the air and—violence was done unto the happiness of the feast, although no tickling kits or torturing animals did their bloody work. Uncle Ollie and his niece lay dead on the ground.
To-night the fox and the stork will overcome the young owls. Tomorrow they will be missed. At noontide the fox, the boar and the mob of swine will encircle the tree in order to wrestle for the possession of Uncle Ollie’s progeny. Only a solitary little brown owl belonging to a distant cousin will peep from the tree-top.
The next day the intelligent animals of the forest discussed Uncle Ollie’s reply to his learned niece. They all came to the conclusion that Uncle Ollie, indeed, did the best thing not to give any answer to the inquiries of the hasty and prying owlets Little careless Mia dared say all sorts of things. Enjoy your wisdom peaceably at your ease, children, that is the way to profit by it.