“Well, if you really want to know,” Roger replied, in his best dignified but defiant manner, “I’m here on a scientific expedition, w-w-with my friend here and we’re just here to find out, well, what’s here actually, and that’s about the start and end of it. We are not here to disturb anybody really, and ’specially not the screeching, scratching and horrible-hooting creatures on this horrible hill!” he finished, in a rush and now very red-faced and breathless.
Mary looked on, appalled at his outburst, and Roger realized that he’d been a bit silly; losing his temper in such a place and at a time like this; he knew it wasn’t exactly the wisest course of action he could have taken. He bit his lip and stood in silence, awaiting the worst.
“Oh, Roger,” Mary gasped out, “don’t be so rude! We’re so s-s-sorry, Master Tyton. Roger really didn’t mean…”
But then she was cut short by Tyton’s sudden, loud Hoots. If Mary had known anything about owls at all, and especially the Giant Erf Owls, such as the three they were confronted with, she would have quickly recognized an Owl’s distinctive whooping Hoots of Laughter!
“Well, well, well, not such a timid little mouse after all!” Tyton laughed.
Then before anything else could be said and done, there appeared before them another, much smaller owl, a messenger owl, that came fluttering down to them from the tree above.
To Roger, this particular owl looked even smaller than the normal sized Owls he knew of, this one being but a few inches tall.
“That there’s what’s known as an Elf Owl, I recognize it from me book of Inglishe birds,” Mary whispered to him, looking rather smug in her superior knowledge of the natural world.
The Elf Owl now busily fluttered and flittered about in the air right before them and then daintily perched itself on Athene’s shoulder and began to busily twitter and toot.
It quickly imparted its high pitched and unintelligible message to the Giant Lady Owl. Unintelligible that is, only to the children. Athene obviously understood it very well, every piped, shrill cheep and rapid, sharp chirp of it.
“Do please excuse us for a moment,” Athene said politely, the tiny owl having finished its message. “My little friend Whitney here tells us we have an important messenger arrived for the Owl Parliament. Would you excuse us for just a little while? You will both be escorted to a parliamentary ‘Guest-Nest’ and you will be quite safe and comfortable there, I assure you.”
And with that said, a flurry of beating wings descended and suddenly, Roger found he had two large talons tightly gripping his arms and shoulders. And Roger could see the same was happening to Mary.
Two Owls had appeared and were now hoisting them both up into the air.
They soared smoothly upwards through the branches of the trees and soon came to where a huge oak tree stood, imposingly wide and tall. Roger saw that this was a very ancient tree, with a tall, wide trunk and thick, crooked branches; All whorls and gnarls and knots and scars, but still full of life. Its broad branches cloaked in ragged oak leaves and clusters of glistening, green acorns.
“Ooh, what a lovely old tree!” Mary cried out.
Their Owl guards flew midway up the trunk of the tree, and Roger saw that they were heading for a dark, round knothole there. The hole loomed nearer, and Roger cringed, thinking they’d hit it and just smash into the trunk. “Surely, that hole is far too small for us,” he thought. But it wasn’t. As they flew toward it, the hole seemed to expand and just swallow them up whole!
Inside, Roger blinked, having to get accustomed to the gloom all around him. As his sight returned though, he gasped in astonishment. They were now in a huge round chamber lit with an eerie, green glow that seemed to stretch high above them and far below them.
As they flew upwards, within the oak tree, Roger saw tier after tier of circular galleries, with ornately carved balconies ranked all around the walls. This was the Prime Owl’s Tower Chamber, (or the OTC, as the Owls called it: their very own Houses of Parliament).
The inside of the massive, old oak was a lot bigger than what it seemed from the outside, Roger noted with amazement, his eyes goggling like an Owl’s at the strange architecture.
“By Billy Bunsen’s Burners, what is going on?” he yelled to Mary. “This must be some kind of magic trick or an illusion… or something… it just doesn’t make any logical sense!”
“Yes. I think it is a kind of magic, Roj, and not a trick!” Mary answered, gasping in awe.
High up within the tower, the big Owl Guards deposited them onto the assigned ‘Guest-Nest’ and flew off. This Guest-Nest was a large, hollowed-out area between two balconies. And in the wall at the back of the nest was another knothole that served as a small window.
Roger sat down beside it and peered through, but thankfully could only see more branches and oak leaves, obscuring the dizzying view downwards.
But he felt sick in his stomach, anyway; he really wasn’t very good at heights at all.
“And what if we’re now just helpless prisoners to these Giant Owls, what do we do then?” he thought glumly to himself.
CHAPTER 6:
A PARLIAMENT OF OWLS
The Guest-Nest had been lined with moss and twigs and was in fact, dry and comfortable. Roger sat crouched by the oak-wall as low and far away from the edge of the nest as he could. While Mary excitedly scrambled about on her knees, exploring their surroundings.
“Don’t worry, Roger,” Mary beamed, peering over the edge and down into the deep gloomy depths of the hollow tree. “I don’t think these Owls are bad creatures at all. In fact, these ‘ere ‘Bad Wood’ Owls seem quite good and wise to me.” She smiled at him. “But they’re a little bit pompous too,” she added brightly.
Mary, in fact, quite enjoyed being up in big trees, so this one didn’t really bother her at all.
“We’re not that high you know, Roj, though if you did fall that’d be the end of you,” she said matter-of-factly, peering over the edge of the large nest. “I could easily climb down from here if I wanted, but it’d be a bit strange climbing down the insides of a tree instead of up the outsides of one, wouldn’t it?” she mused, half to herself.
“I wish you wouldn’t move about so much,” Roger complained, “we really don’t know how safe and stable these Guest-Nests are, after all.”
Roger just sat glumly where he was, not daring to move; Mary’s blithe indifference to their precarious height had totally failed to instil any confidence in him at all.
“Wh-wh-what do you think they want with us then?” he asked her.
“I don’t know, but I don’t think they want to eat us. Owls only eat mice and insects an’ stuff like that, so come on, Roj, be brave; we’re having our adventure after all, aren’t we?”
But Roger was rapidly losing any glimmer of enthusiasm he’d had for this so-called exploring and adventuring business.
“Don’t see what being dragged up into a Tree-Tardis, by Giant Owls, has to do with us exploring anyway,” he grumbled knowing full well he was contradicting himself as he said it.
Because, even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true; they really were on an actual, real live exploration and amazing adventure; but he just fervently hoped that this one didn’t abandon all bounds of human dignity, comfort, and reason.
“Well, just don’t expect me to sit down to an Owl dinner and munch on a morsel of mouse or scrunch on a crunchy insect or something,” he grumbled, mumbling disdainfully at her.
Then, as if right on cue, there was a fluttering of wings and two medium-sized serving-owls flew up from the shadowy depths of the tree’s inner trunk. They were wearing what looked like small white bibs or pinafores and were bearing little baskets, full of delicious tidbits and delicacies for their guests to eat. Unfortunately, the Owls, just as Roger had feared, weren’t at all familiar with the usual and more accepted eating habits of humans.