It was truly fascinating to read about the habits of owls and how they did (and, in many ways did not) fit in with human habitation. Windrow made abundantly clear that he respected that owls, even owls that have been hatched and raised by humans, are still wild animals. In most cases, by adjusting his own habits and expectations to fit in with living with the owl rather than expecting the owl to do so. In short, he was never under the illusion that he could fully domesticate her to live as a pet but rather worked very hard to make co-habitation work.
While I loved the relationship between Martin and Mumble, he also very effectively dissuaded me from ever wanting to live with an owl myself -- issues with excrement alone would be a deal-breaker!
I won't spoil the ending by commenting on that, but at the end I was very glad to have read this short, interesting, funny book.
Perched on the back of a sunlit chair was something about 9 inches tall and shaped rather like a plump toy penguin with a nose-job. It appeared to be wearing a one-piece knitted jumpsuit of pale grey fluff with brown stitching, complete with an attached balaclava helmet. From the face-hole of the fuzzy balaclava, two big, shiny black eyes gazed up at me trustfully. 'Kweep', it said quietly. Enchanted, I leaned closer. It blinked its furry grey eyelids, then jumped very deliberately up on to my right shoulder. It felt like a big, warm dandelion head against my cheek, and it smelt like a milky new kitten. 'Kweep', it repeated, very softly.
Love at first sight – when it hits you late, it hits hard. It hit me at thirty-four, and I was a slave to it for the next fifteen years.
Keep reading! Beth