A rare reappearance of a fine illustrator (Rascal, Julie of the Wolves), whose watercolors here follow a father and small child as they seek an owl beneath a winter moon. In Yolen's spare, graceful text, the child recounts their trudge through snow, long past bedtime, with Pa repeating an owl call until he is rewarded with a reply plus the sighting of the owl, for a minute or "maybe even a hundred minutes." Schoenherr catches the deep, misty blues and soft browns of night--contrasting them to the snow's stark white so sharply that the bite of the cold is palpable--and hides a wild creature in tree or wall in almost every vista of the farmland landscape. Yolen hints at a philosophical overtone ("When you go owling you don't need words or warm or anything but hope. . .the kind of hope that flies on silent wings. . ."), but the shared experience of the mysterious, natural night-world seems the more important message of this lovely, quiet book.
