“Wait a bit,” said the owl. “Do you know what you would be doing if you were to shoot me? Why, you would be shooting the most useful bird in the whole country. You wouldn’t want to do that, I suppose?”
Tommy Smith didn’t quite know what to say to this. “Of course, if you really are very useful,” he began—
“Well, if you were a farmer,” the owl went on, “I don’t suppose you would like to have all your corn, and wheat, and hay, and everything eaten up by rats and mice, would you?”
“Oh no,” said Tommy Smith.
“That is what would happen, though, if it wasn’t for me,” said the owl. “You see, I eat the rats and mice. They are my proper food, especially the mice. A full-grown rat is rather large for me—too large to swallow whole, at anyrate; and I like to swallow things whole if I can. But the mice and the young rats are just the right size, and you’ve no idea what a lot of them I eat. I have a very good appetite, I can tell you, and so have my children. Of course, I have to feed them as well as myself, so there is plenty of work for me to do. Every night I fly round the fields and farmyards, and when I see a mouse, or a rat, or a mole, or a shrew-mouse, down I pounce upon it. Now think how many owls there are all over the country, and think what thousands and thousands of rats and mice they must catch every night, and then think what a lot of good they must do. Or, here is another way. Think how many rats and mice there are even now, although there are so many owls to catch them, and think how much harm they do, and think how many more there would be, and how much more harm they would do if there were no owls to catch them. That is a lot of thinking is it not? Well, have you thought of it all?”
“I’ve tried to,” said Tommy Smith.
“It’s difficult, isn’t it?” said the owl. “It’s all very well to say ‘think,’ but the fact is, you can’t think what a useful bird an owl is—and especially a barn-owl. But, perhaps, you don’t believe me.”
“Oh yes, I do,” said Tommy Smith. “I always thought that owls killed rats and mice.”
“You can prove it, if you like,” said the owl, “and I’ll tell you how. I told you that I liked to swallow animals whole, so, of course, everything goes down—fur, bones, feathers (if it does happen to be a bird), and all. But I can’t be expected to digest such things as that, so I have to get rid of them in some way or other. Well, what do I do? Why, I bring them all up again in pellets about the size and shape of a potato.”