You’d have had dyspepsia, or some other sort of misery in your stomach.”

“What shall I do?” asked Solomon Owl. “Insects are scarce at this season
of the year. Of course, there are frogs—but I don’t seem to care for them.
And there are fish—but they’re not easy to get, for they don’t come out of
the water and sit on the bank, as the frogs do.”

“How about pullets?” Aunt Polly inquired.

At that Solomon Owl let out a long row of hoots, because he was pleased.

“The very thing!” he cried. “That’s what I’ve been wanting all this time.
And I never guessed it.... I’ll pay you for your advice the next time I
see you,” he told Aunt Polly. And Solomon Owl hurried away before she
could stop him. Since he had no intention of visiting her on ground-hog
day, he knew it would be spring before he saw Aunt Polly Woodchuck again.

The old lady scolded a bit. And it did not make her feel any pleasanter to
hear Solomon’s mocking laughter, which grew fainter and fainter as he left
the pasture behind him. Then she went inside her house, for she was fast
growing sleepy. And she wanted to set things to rights before she began
her long winter’s nap.

Meanwhile, Solomon Owl roamed restlessly through the woods. There was only
one place in the neighborhood where he could get a pullet. That was at
Farmer Green’s chicken house. And for some reason he did not care to visit
the farm buildings until it grew darker.

So he amused himself by making the woods echo with his strange cry,
“_Whoo-whoo-whoo, whoo-whoo, to-whoo-ah!_” And now and then he threw in a