Dusty Waters found herself in a heap on the rough dry grass alongside the road. She always forgot that loose gravel at the bottom of the curve in the road. She had taken the turn a little too fast and her bike skidded through it. She lost control and pitched into the grass with her bike on top of her.

"Are you alright, honey?" A white-haired woman in a purple golf shirt and shorts was standing over her
.
"Oh, yeah. I just scratched my arm." She turned her arm over to see the ugly red scrapes on the underside.

Dusty's arm hurt, but she was more embarrassed. All of the old folks that were sitting outside their campers had seen her fall. She picked up her bike and cowboy hat and bravely rode on to see the baby owl.

Nine-year-old Dusty liked to check the baby owl several times a day. Everyone in the campground had watched the owl parents making the nest in the live oak tree. When the baby owl peeped out from the nest in the crotch of the tree, the entire campground came over to see her. She was hard to see because she blended in with the Spanish moss that draped from the enormous contorted branches. The little puffy pin-feathered head just barely showed above the nest high above the road in the campground.

Dusty pedaled under the tree and then dropped her bike in front of Mr. James' big motorhome which was parked nearby. Mr. James helped Dusty spot the little owl and kept her up on any changes. He had a bald head with a fringe of white hair over his ears, a plaid shirt and black shorts held up by suspenders on his thin frame. Most days he wore his black socks that went up to his knees with his black dress shoes.

"I can't see her, Dusty. She must be napping," said Mr. James. He and his wife were sitting under the awning of their camper reading the paper. They loved camping in this spot so they could watch the owls because they were avid bird watchers.

Dusty stood away from the tree to see if she could find the owlet. After looking for a few minutes with no luck, she settled into her usual lawn chair next to their camper door. She liked talking to the couple. They were always friendly and happy to spend time with her.

"I am so happy to see that Great Horned owl's nest and the owlet. There aren't many owls left anymore. People are cutting down trees and building homes in their habitat. We are taking away the places for the owls to make nests and raise their young," said Mrs. James

There were no other children in the campground, only old folks camping in Florida getting away from the cold north country for the winter. She was staying two weeks with her Grandma and Grandpa at the campground.

Dusty loved her grandparents, being in the campground with a huge swimming pool, and having her grandma help her with her school work in the mornings. But, sometimes, she missed her parents and her friends.

"Dusty, Dusty." She heard her grandmother calling her from two roads away. That meant it was time for breakfast and to work on her school assignments.

"Got to go," she said as she stood up to kick her bike's kickstand back. She glanced one more time up to the branches to find the owlet. Then she saw the tiny little head peeking out at her. "Well, bye-bye, little owl."

"Still haven't got a name for him?" asked Mr. James.

"Her. I think the owl is a girl. I need to think of a good name for her-the perfect name." She smiled.

Dusty's fair skin was sprinkled with freckles across her nose. Her mom said they were angel's kisses, but it didn't help her to accept the small brown spots. She didn't like them especially when the kids teased her about them. Her shiny brown hair sparkled with red in the Florida sun as she rode back to her grandparents' camper. Her pink cowboy hat hung on her back from the cord around her neck.

Dusty sat outside at the picnic table to eat her breakfast of cinnamon toast, orange slices, and chocolate milk.

"Grandma, can you think of a name for the little owl baby?"

"Hmmm…." Her grandma looked thoughtful holding her fingers to her chin. Her blue eyes twinkled as she looked at Dusty. "How about…Horace?" She wrinkled her nose, and then smiled at her precious granddaughter.

"Oh, Grandma." Dusty laughed.
Grandpa came out of the camper. He was dressed in his golf shirt and shorts ready for a game of golf. He looked very tall and handsome. Her grandpa knew everything about everything and he could do anything.

"I know," he said, "let's name it -uh-Owl?"

"Oh, that's an original name. You thought long and hard on that one, didn't you?" Grandma grinned.

"I'd better get going. Hope I can get this game in before it rains." He secured his bag of golf clubs to the little two wheeled cart. He waved good-bye and walked down to the golf course which circled right through the center of the campground.

Dusty looked at the sky. It seemed sunny to her. No dark clouds in sight.

That afternoon she and Grandma rode their bikes to the pool. She loved playing in the pool, but she had to be careful not to splash all the old people. They never seemed to actually swim in the pool. They stood or floated on their "noodles" and talked and talked.

"Look at those dark clouds coming in," said one lady.
"They predicted thunderstorms for late this afternoon and tonight," said another.
Soon it began sprinkling. Dusty dived under the water to see what the manatees must see and feel when they are underwater during a rain.

"Dusty, come on. It's going to start pouring soon."

She and her grandma jumped on their bikes juggling all the paraphernalia they brought with them to the pool.

"Hurry up, Dusty, we might get wet!" She laughed at the notion since they were already wet from swimming in the pool.

Suddenly the air cooled and the wind blew stronger. The big splats of rain were pelting down on them.

They quickly parked their bikes under the overhang of the fifth wheel camper. Grandpa wrestled with the awning to get it rolled up and safely tucked against the side of the trailer so that the strong gusty winds wouldn't tear it off.

Dusty dashed into the trailer with grandma close behind. Although she was shivering, she turned on the TV to see the weather map lighted up with bright orange, yellow and red blotches.

"There we are on the map. It looks like an angry storm is going to pass right over us," said Grandma.

The wind blew hard, but the trailer sat defiantly on its wheels. The heavy rain poured on the roof so loudly that Dusty could barely hear the TV. She was frightened, but her grandma held her close.

"Grandma, what about the baby owl? The wind will blow her and the rain will drown her." Dusty cried.

"No, no. Her mom is with her. She'll protect her and keep her warm and safe."

Grandma hugged her trying to make Dusty feel warm and safe too.

The rain and wind finally stopped late that evening. It was too dark to see the baby owl, so Dusty woke up early the next morning. After asking Grandma if she could check on the baby owl, Dusty grabbed her cowboy hat to protect her head from the hot Florida sun and jumped down the camper's steps. She pedaled quickly down the road. This time she remembered to avoid the loose gravel at the curve. She braked and quickly laid down her bike near the owl tree.

She sighed with relief when she saw Mother Owl sitting by the nest and baby owl's head peeking out. She watched them for awhile before leaving.

"Maybe I should name her Stormy," she thought as she pedaled back to the camper.
After lunch, Dusty decided to take a bike ride through the campground and explore more of the area. She decided to swing by the owl's home and check on Stormy.
She still didn't think Stormy was the right name.

Dusty looked hard for the owl in her nest. Her eyes searched for Stormy and looked across the branch that extended over the road. She couldn't see the owls. Then she thought she saw a pile of feathers on the road. The feathers moved slightly.

As she moved closer, Dusty's heart began to pound and her eyes began to tear up. The pile of feathers took shape. It was the baby owl lying helplessly in the middle of the road!

When she jumped off her bike, Dusty saw an enormous motorhome driving toward her on the road where the baby owl lay. She couldn't let it run over the baby bird. She ran and stood in front of the little bird, waving her pink cowboy hat and screaming as loudly as she could. She hoped the driver would see her in time to stop. She knew he couldn't see the little pile of feathers behind her.

"STOP! STOP!" she yelled.

Mr. James rushed out of his camper and ran toward the motorhome. The driver swerved to the side of the road and stopped a truck's distance away from the little girl.

"What the heck are you doing?" yelled the driver furiously at Mr. James and Dusty.

"There's a baby owl in the road," said Mr. James. "Dusty was saving it from getting run over."

The driver smiled. He left his motorcoach. He looked at the helpless baby owl on the pavement. He said to Dusty, "You are a very brave young lady."

"I'll keep my motorcoach parked here so no one else will come down the road. But what will we do with the little bird?"

"We can try and put her back in the nest. I'll get your work gloves and a five gallon bucket to put the bird in," said Mrs. James.

"But how are we going to reach the nest? It is too high."

"I can get my ladder and truck," said Grandpa as he walked up to Dusty. He hugged her. She noticed tears in his eyes.

Grandpa drove his big blue pickup truck under the branch. He set up his sturdy ladder on the bed of the truck.

"Here. You'll need this too," said Mrs. James. She gave Grandpa a red metal spaghetti noodle strainer.

"What's this for?" he asked.

Mrs. James pointed up to the trees where Mother Owl was watching them from above. "You need to put that on your head like a helmet. When you pick up that baby, its mother might think you are trying to harm her baby and she may attack you."

Grandpa placed the strainer on his head. He looked so funny that everyone laughed. He put on the heavy leather gloves and carefully scooped up the little owl. He gently placed her in the large bucket.

Grandpa stepped up into the bed of the truck, then Dusty handed the bucket up to Grandpa. Climbing up the ladder, Grandpa was able to reach the nest and deposit the baby safely into her tree home.

"What happened? There was no storm to knock her out of the nest." Dusty wondered.

"Sometimes little birds are curious and they want to explore. I think she just got too curious and stepped out without knowing what could happen," said Mrs. James.

"It's a good thing you found her, Dusty. You saved her life." Grandpa gave her a big hug.

At supper that night, Dusty said, "I think I have the right name for the baby owl."

"What is it?" Both Grandma and Grandpa leaned closer to hear the name.

"I think I will name her Angel. She tried to fly like an angel today."

Dusty smiled. She finally had found the perfect name for the baby owl.

The End

After careers in education and retail business, Janet Glaser and her husband traveled the USA full-time in their fifth wheel RV. Janet, a freelance writer, has written many articles and stories on the kitchen table of the camper. She has had articles published in RV magazines and newspapers. She has also won awards for essays and a children's story. Janet is a contributing editor at Garden and Hearth Ezine, www.gardenandhearth.com/camping.htm.

Top of Page