For the past few weeks an owl has taken to hooting, in the trees behind us, at around 05.00. The calls are returned as a weak echo, from a distant wooded area, beyond the village green. This exchange has been known to continue way into our second cup of tea.
Stay with me, as there's a theme to this post, but we have to consider a character from 'The Gruffalo' en route. I've become familiar with the owl in the story, along with the other creatures - who wouldn't, after repeated viewings - and, I've learnt something else. Whilst one of our twin granddaughters is content to see herself as a little mouse, the other is a more fascinated with the role of the owl. Let's hope this isn't sibling rivalry taken to the extreme.
And then, there's this little creation. Okay, I've added a few stars, a moon and a tree, but the owl is the product of our daughter's five year old imagination. It had gone to roost between the pages of a 'schooldays treasure album' more than a quarter of a century ago, and has only emerged quite recently. So, who gives a hoot? Well, I do, of course.