Owl

The Silver Maple is a controversial tree. It’s one of the fastest growing maples and popular. The weasel sees them landscaping the areas between buildings all through the urban not-so-wild. Dense, shady three dimensional space worthy of an annual sustained crow fight over whose new nest will be placed near the top of the canopy. But it’s too fast growing to hold thick against stormy wind; its brittle branches break off. A big messy tree.

What color are most of the stars? White or silver? Matching them, the trunk and branches are silver with the smallest moonlight; brighter at the bottom in porch lights. From the weasel lowdown the view contrasts best in leafless winter. Clear dark winter sky, glimmery trunk arms, stars way above and on fortunate nights, persistent hooting. No need for integrated telemetry or GPS for the local owl to pick its acoustic perch. “Where are you” it hoots and hootles. Weasels love the awe of that wonder question: is this calling to a known friend or longing to know a new friend?