My father’s wildlife

No one knows how the owl got into the house. My father said at the time that it must have come down the chimney after some prey, and then got stuck inside. Looking up his chimney, I was skeptical of this: it was deeply crusted with gunk.

But it doesn’t really matter how the owl got in — he was in.

I was staying with my father that summer at his house in Florida. (”Hovel” might have been a more…