Who-hoo-ooo Do You Think You Are&;#063;

Homer Owl edged his way along the branch of the old oak tree. He was
glad to escape the clamour of his growing family, but his moment of
peace was to be short lived. He fluffed up his tawny brown plumage and
blinked in the early morning light, which filtered down through the new
spring leaves. Time to settle those youngsters down to roost, he
thought.
His sensitive ears picked up the sound of dogs and a hunting horn,
which gradually drew closer. Suddenly a fox crashed through the
brambles, which snagged and pulled tufts of her red fur, clearly
marking her path through the wood. The vixen collapsed in a patch of
bluebells underneath the old oak. Her sides heaved and she panted
rapidly as she nervously glanced around.
"Owl, please help me," she said, "my strength is almost gone and I
have five kits to feed at home".
"Run to the east fox," Homer said, "there is a small stream. You can
use it to put the hounds off your scent".
Gathering the last of her strength the fox ran off to the east.
"Who-hoo-ooo do you think you are, helping a sly old fox who is no
friend of ours?" asked Homer's mate, Holly. Homer merely blinked his
eyes and spread his wings.
Spring stretched into summer and soon Homer's family grew up and flew
the nest. He had just emerged from his roost one warm September
evening, when a red squirrel ran along his branch. She reached for a
particularly large acorn, but the branch, which was very thin at the
end, snapped under her weight, sending her plummeting to the ground.
Silently Homer swooped down, grabbed the little squirrel by the scruff
of her neck and lowered her safely to the ground. The squirrel ran off,
surprised but unhurt.
"Who-hoo-ooo do you think you are, helping a pesky little squirrel who
is no friend of ours?" hooted Holly. Homer merely blinked his eyes and
spread his wings.
September was warm and humid and the rumbling of thunder often
disturbed the woodland. One night Homer was hunting for frogs when a
violent storm broke. He tried to fly back to the safety of his nest
through the driving rain. Suddenly a tremendous crack of thunder echoed
through the wood and a bolt of lightning turned night into day for one
brief moment. The lightning struck Homer's oak tree, splitting the top
of the tree into two. Huge branches crashed to the ground. Homer could
hear Holly's frightened voice calling to him, "Ke-wick," she called,
"Ke-wick".
Homer swooped round and round the tree searching for Holly. His nest
hole was totally destroyed.
"Down here, down here", barked a fox. Homer glided to the ground and
saw Holly trapped under a pile of twigs and branches. A vixen was
guarding her and a little red squirrel ran anxiously up and down a
nearby tree.
"Ke-wick", Holly called, "Ke-wick".
"Help me pull this branch away," the fox said, holding it in her
strong jaws and pulling with all her strength. Homer grasped the branch
with his sharp talons and between them the fox and the owl lifted and
pulled the branch until there was room for Holly to escape.
"Oh Homer our lovely home is gone", said Holly, "where can we go to
shelter from this terrible storm."
"Come with me", said the squirrel, "I have a spare drey where you can
shelter".
The squirrel led Homer and Holly to a warm, dry drey, which was
securely built between two strong branches of a large beech tree.
Shivering, the two owls huddled together for warmth.
"Who-hoo-ooo would have thought we would owe our lives to a sly old
fox and a pesky squirrel", said Holly. Homer merely blinked his eyes
and spread his wings.