OWL MOO 月光下看猫头鹰.docVIP

OWL MOON 月光下看猫头鹰 OWL MOON --- by John Schoenherr It was late one winter night, long past my bedtime, when Pa and I went owling. There was no wind. The trees stood still as giant statues. And the moon was so bright the sky seemed to shine. Somewhere behind us a train whistle blew, long and low, like a sad, sad song. I coule hear it through the woolen cap Pa had pulled down over my ears. A farm dog answered the train, and then a second dog joined in. They sang out, trains and dogs, for a real long time. And when their voices faded away it was as quiet as dream. We walked on toward the woods, Pa and I. Our feet crunched over the crisp snow and little gray footprints followed us. Pa made a long shadow, but mine was short and round. I had to run after him every now and then to keep up, and my short, round shadow bumped after me. But I called out. If you go owling you have to be quiet, thats what Pa always says. ------------------------------ I had been waiting to go owling with Pa for a long, long time. We reacded the line of pine trees, black and pointy against the sky, and Pa held up his hand. I stopped right where I was and waited. He looked up, as if searching the stars as if reading a map up there. The moon made his face into a silver mask. Then he called Whoo-whoo-who-who-who-whooooooo, the sound of a Great Horned Owl. Whoo-whoo-who-who-who-whooooooo. Again he called out. And then again. After each call he was silent and for a moment we both listened. But there was no answer. Pa shrugged and I shrugged. I was not disappointed. My brothers all said sometimes theres an owl and sometimes there isnt. We walked on. I could feel the cold, as if someones icy hand was palm-down on my back. And my nose and the tops of m