Chapter 1: The Wise Old Owl
By Richard Mabey Jr.

I think that every family has ties to wildlife, to the creatures of the woods and forest. And, I think that for the most part, there are family legends that are a mixture of both truth and fable. Such was the case of the dear old hoot owl, who made his home in the tall, towering maple tree at the end of Mabey Lane. My paternal grandfather, Watson Mabey, often included the wise old hoot owl in the incredible stories that he
would often tell my sister, my cousins and myself.

In the Summer of 1964, I was 10 years old and had just completed the fifth grade. We had an old canvas tent in the basement and my dad and I set it up in Earl’s Meadow, one Saturday morning in late June of 1964. Earl’s Meadow had been named by my grandfather. It was the back field, on the right hand side of near the end of Mabey Lane. It was the very acre wherein Grandpa’s brother, Earl Mabey, had intended to
build a home, when he got home from the First World War. Sadly, Great Uncle Earl was killed in battle in France.

It was shortly after Dad and I put up the old tent that my father suggested that I call my good friend, Stuart, and ask him if he wanted to sleep out in the old tent. I did take my father’s advise and called Stuart and after lunch, Stuart came over to visit me, complete with his trusty sleeping bag. My cousin Dave lived next door and was also all set for our backyard camp out plans.

Soon the sun was beginning to set. Mom packed up some chocolate chip cookies that she had just baked that afternoon. Mom also made us a thermos of lemonade. Cousin Dave, Stu and I were living the good life.

It was in the middle of night that nature called and I needed to water a tree, as Grandpa used to say. I remember leaving my tent, walking to the end of Mabey Lane and walking a little way into the forest path. There stood the majestic maple, an old, tall, towering maple tree that was probably well over a hundred years old. And clinging to one of its limbs, was the wise old, hooting owl.

This was, no doubt, the very old owl that Grandpa talked about in his many stories of recollections of life at the old Mabey Homestead. The old owl hooted and hooted as he looked down upon me. Our eyes met. An eerie, intense feeling surged through my veins and settled deep into the marrow of my bones. I had seen the wise old owl, by the light of the Summer Moon. It was a sacred moment, a monumental
occurrence. I had looked into the eyes of the legendary, wise old owl.

I returned to my tent in the middle of Earl’s Meadow. I remember sleeping all so soundly. And as I fell asleep, I could hear the faint howling of that endearing old owl. I had looked the old, wise owl into his eyes. One of Grandpa’s legendary wildlife creatures became a living reality that fateful night.

Over 60 years have come and gone since that remarkable Summer night. In all so many ways, it seems like only yesterday. My Grandpa Mabey was one of the most enchanting story tellers I have ever known.

In many ways, I think my love for writing about the memories of growing up in the old Mabey Homestead, can be greatly attributed to my beloved grandfather.

Richard Mabey Jr. is a freelance writer. He has recently had two books published. He currently hosts a YouTube Channel entitled, “Richard Mabey Presents.” Richard may be contacted at richardmabeyjr@gmail.com.