Free House of Wings by Betsy Byars

eyelids. “See that?”
    “Yeah.”
    “That means he’s real pleased. Sometimes he only closes the inner lids.” He straightened and the owl opened his eyes and looked at Sammy. “Well, let’s get to it.” His grandfather took the last strand of spaghetti from his bowl and held it out for the geese. One by one they came out from under the table to peck at it. One goose snapped it in half and ran. Another got the remainder, and the grandfather wiped his hands on his pants and said, “When you get finished, put your bowl and spoon over there in the sink. We got to keep things tidy.”
    “All right,” Sammy said. He discovered that he had not even started to eat yet. With one eye on the owl, who was still staring at him with cold yellow eyes, Sammy ate quickly. As he ate he looked out the open door. He could see the crane in the pen. The crane was standing with his head tucked under his wing feathers.
    Suddenly Sammy wasn’t hungry any more. He took his remaining spaghetti and fed it cautiously to the geese, saying again and again, “Watch out for my fingers now, you guys. Watch out! Watch out!” He tried to make sure that the goose who was always hissing at him was not left out. “Watch out now. Give me room.” Then he added quickly to the owl, “I’m just giving them some leftover spaghetti.” The owl blinked once and continued to stare.

THE OWL IN THE BATHROOM
    A FTER A MOMENT THE owl turned and walked stiff-legged across the table. He stood staring at the doorway, his knuckles curled down over the edge of the table.
    “You see something?” Sammy asked. Sammy thought that the owl probably knew more about the inside of this house than his grandfather. He thought rooms would look different seen from the tops of doors and the insides of closets.
    The owl stared through the doorway, then left the table and flew to the back of the chair by the door. Without pausing he flew out into the hall and onto the top of the front door. Then he glided down to the banister and kept flying in short swoops until he was upstairs.
    Sammy listened to the owl fly away, then he got up and put the dishes in the sink. When his grandfather came out of the pantry, Sammy said, “The owl went upstairs somewhere. I don’t know what he’s up to.”
    Sammy’s grandfather was making a mixture of mashed sardines, meal, canned milk, and water. “I think this will do the trick,” he said to Sammy as he stirred. He had put his old railroad jacket back on, and he looked more like himself. He mixed the sardines and mopped his jacket with one hand when his enthusiastic stirring caused some to spill.
    Sammy walked over and looked into the bowl. When he was a little boy he had spent a lot of time mixing things together—just mixing different foods to see how they tasted, and then he wouldn’t have the nerve to try them. He would go around begging people, “Taste this for me and tell me what it’s like,” and they would always say, “You taste it yourself.”
    He hoped his grandfather wasn’t going to ask him to taste this particular mixture. He sighed and said, “That spaghetti really filled me up.” His grandfather added more sardines. Sammy said, “I couldn’t eat another bite of anything I’m so full.”
    “Well, let’s get to it.” His grandfather turned and Sammy followed him out into the yard.
    As they went down the steps Sammy asked, “Where does the owl go upstairs? Do you know?”
    “The owl? He’s got a favorite place in the bathroom up on a pipe, and he likes the top part of one of the closets. He could be ’most anywhere up there, I reckon.” They crossed the yard together. “He goes in the back bedroom sometimes because there’s a mirror on the dresser and he likes to look at himself.”
    “Is that the truth?”
    “I caught him at it once, swooping down at himself and then landing and walking past. He’s got a kind of hop he does. You ever seen an owl walk?”
    “No, I just saw him take a couple of