Better Watch Out Or The Screech Owl Will Get You.

18.  My  ‘now I like you- now I hate you’ relationship with Ivy was no doubt founded by her pushing me into second place by her birth when I was but sixteen months old.  It did not help that she was cute – eliciting the nickname ‘Mug’.  Attempts to assign ‘Pug’ to me fell shallow.

Mug was okay and on good days we got along—as well as siblings ever get along.

We played together. We fought together. On good days Daddy ignored our squabbles. On bad days he threatened us with the razor strap. His most effective  effort was his threat –“If you keep up this fussin’ the screech owl will come and carry you away."  Even at six and seven we were smart enough to know no owl could do that.

It was November when darkness came early.  It was supper time.  At the table in the dining room Daddy sat at one end, Mommie at the other.  On the bench with our backs to the window Arville,  Ivy and I sat. I poked Ivy.  Ivy poked me.  After  poke followed poke  Daddy said, “Stop it before the screech owl swoops in and carries you away.”

Sure, we thought and continued the poking.

Then outside the window a horrific sound rang out.  A screech owl had perched in the tree just outside the dining room window.  In a fluid, no delay movement three children were off the bench under the table.