Widow Blunt sat in her splint-bottomed chair by her kitchen window and laughed and laughed, and laughed. “That poor robin thought he was a goner!” she said to herself. “That old owl is good for something, after all!”
Widow Blunt’s full-blooded Plymouth Rock Rooster came around the house with four hens. He was going to show the hens where the cherries were falling on the ground. One of the hens saw the big owl sitting in the cherry tree.
“See that terrible bird in the tree!” she said. Mister Rooster looked up and saw Mister Sparrow sitting in the English currant bush.
“I could eat four birds like that one!” said the rooster.
“You are very brave!” said the hen, “but something tells me that I do not care for cherries to-day!” and the hen started running for the barn.
Just then Mister Rooster saw the big owl.
“Ca-daa-cut! Ca-daa-cut!” he screamed. “Run for your lives!” and the big rooster was one of the first to get under the barn.
Widow Blunt rocked back and forth in her splint-bottomed chair and laughed, and laughed, and laughed. “It is better than a vaudeville!” she said.
Mister Samson Crow came flying over, and he saw the big owl sitting in Widow Blunt’s early cherry tree.
Samson Crow was very much surprised to see an owl sitting in a cherry tree in the daytime, and he said to himself: “My eyes are fairly good, and they tell me that a whole owl is sitting in that tree!” Then Samson Crow flew down to where Robert Robin was saying, “Tut! Tut! Tut!” in the harvest apple tree.