Mama Owl - Gardening and Wildlife

Dear Friends,

Last Saturday morning, I started to worry about a family ZOOM call that we do each Sunday with many members of the family, some of them quite young children. I look pretty bad after an allergic reaction to my first chemotherapy session and did not want to frighten any of the little ones. So I came up with an elaborate disguise and said I’d have a Mystery Guest with me on Sunday evening.

Attached is a little 10-minute audio script I pre-recorded for the call. I hope it will bring a smile to your face. And also convey that I am doing much better after a difficult stretch.

Much love, Theresa

Queenie: An audio script for young (and old) children

Hi! DEAR FAMILY! I am Mama Owl. Among creatures in these parts, I am commonly known as Queenie.

Ah told My Dear Friend Treesa I would agree to be her Mystery Guest on Zoom with her DEAR FAMILY— IF AND ONLY IF she would get That Cat back in her bedroom where I wouldn’t have to look at her pretty face up close. That Cat set up such a fuss when I came in the house today that I told My Dear Friend Treesa I wouldn’t stay if she didn’t lock them both in back there and keep That Cat under control FOR SURE.

[Of course, please don’t tell My Dear Friend Treesa that that has been my plan all along!]

You see. Frankly, I am very-very worried about My Dear Friend Treesa. I spend a lot of time in the woods around My Dear Friend Treesa’s BEE-YOO-TI-FUL house looking in on her. She doesn’t have ANY idea how much I can see inside her house but I have very-very good eyesight and I really-really love sitting on her garden porch.

And, you know, I am SO LONELY. All my little baby owls are fledged and doing their little learning flights with their Papa Owl, who is FINALLY doing something useful. And now I am molting, which is a little sad but necessary, for almost all birds at this time of year. Silly people always wonder why birds go silent and hide in August. Well, when we molt we lose our feathers and we can’t fly very-very well. So then we hide because we are not only ugly but in danger. I came to see you today in my disguise. Do you like it?

Well, enough about me. I don’t know how well you know My Dear Friend Treesa, but she is NOT a layabout. Day and night she LOVES to work very-very hard in the garden and then come in and work very-very hard in the house, and the kitchen, and her office. She almost NEVER sits down except to read or play the piano. And then sometimes she does both of those standing up! I cannot BELIEVE what my eyes are telling me when I see that from my porch outside. I mean, my perch outside.

For almost three years now, she’s also been mourning a really-really big and tall guy that ALL of my family just LOVED to buzz when he’d come in and out. It was so much fun to do wheelies around the head of that sweet man. [Sigh] But at least she kept working hard while she mourned the big guy.

But in the last two months she just lays about on the bed or she lays about on the couch. Now, as you know, I could care less about That Cat but I can tell you that even pretty-face That Cat is worried about her. Especially in the last few days, My Word, even I have been worried about That Cat who, I can tell you, has lost a WHOLE lot of sleep running around checking up on My Dear Friend Treesa who hasn’t seemed to even be able to talk or eat.

But there are SIGNS that things may be getting better even though they are all still pretty strange. Poor pretty face That Cat has FINALLY been able to catch up on her LONG stretches of beauty sleep. That Cat FINALLY seems to feel there is a responsible adult back in the house. My Dear Friend Treesa is not back out in the garden too much except for the porch. But she’s moving around a whole lot better inside. She’s also molting just like me even though I never-never knew people could molt, did you? In fact, My Dear Friend Treesa has been molting SO very-very much that she’s going to win the contest this week with That Cat on hair loss. My Dear Friend Treesa is SO kind—she always collects ALL the hair when she cleans and puts it out in the big compost pile. Old Pa Owl and me collect from there every year. My Lord, almost every-every bird in the COUNTY goes there to collect nest fixings.

Well, enough already. When My Dear Friend Treesa told me she would speak with her family tonight I just HAD to get in here and check it out. Since I have no butt on MY bottom, I don’t have to worry about “butting in”—Get it?

Well, DEAR FAMILY, I think I have found the E-VI-DENCE of what’s been going on. [Ma Owl brings out tray loaded down with empty Ensure/Boost containers with a sign “EVIDENCE.”] Deep in a recycling bag are all these empty plastic bottles. Dozens of them. That is SO strange. It KILLS My Dear Friend Treesa to bring home cheap, unsustainable plastic bottles—and there are so MANY of them. And, God forgive them, but I think it’s OTHER people bringing them in, since My Dear Friend Treesa hasn’t gone ANYWHERE in, like, FOREVER. All you ever-ever USUALLY see in My Dear Friend Treesa’s kitchen is cooking-cooking-cooking—Get it?—and glass jars flying in and out of the freezer, and beautiful pottery, and shiny cookware rattling away on that big stove—all of that put away in the cupboards now.

Well, DEAR FAMILY, I think you need to check what was in these ugly plastic bottles.

The only other suspicious E-VI-DENCE I could find is this giant red bottle of MAGIC MOUTHWASH. [Ma Owl brings out large bottle marked “Magic Mouthwash.” I smelled it and it is just AWFUL. My Lord, who KNOWS what’s in that bottle, but it ain’t up to no good.

Now, I don’t have all the facts. But I’ve caught some talk about My Dear Friend Treesa moving closer to her family. God knows, we’re all going to miss her. She has a lot of friends all around here in the woods who will miss her terribly if she leaves. Some of them come every year to see her. My little OWL family is going to miss her something AWFUL. But family is the most important thing and she should be with her DEAR FAMILY. We creatures know that and we hope people do, too. Wherever she goes, we hope she’ll have a garden and a porch where we can visit her.

Everything moves in cycles in its time: Mourning, molting, moving. I’d say her time has come to move, and we bid her Adieu, Adieu, Adieu.

Get it?

Queenie Audio
Approximately 11 minutes audio
New Recording 9 on iPhone
Queenie on Mac