In the border village of Kernavė, where the pine forest pressed close to the river and winter snow lingered longer than in other parts, the people spoke often of the owl that lived in the ancient oak on the hill. They said it was older than the village itself, older even than the pagan stones set into the earth before the churches rose.
It was not an ordinary bird. The owl was a keeper of questions, a creature that waited for the foolish and the proud to wander close enough to hear its voice. Those who failed its riddles vanished into the dark. Those who answered well returned changed, though no one agreed on whether it was for the better.
Andrius, the miller’s son, was neither foolish nor proud, but he was restless. He had heard the stories all his life, and on a moonlit night when sleep would not come, he climbed the hill to seek the owl.
The First Question in the Feathered Court
The ancient oak stood like a sentinel against the stars. From its shadow, the owl emerged, its feathers silver in the moonlight, eyes glowing as if they held two small lanterns.
“Seven questions,” it said, its voice carrying the weight of frost. “Answer them all, and I will grant you a truth no mortal knows. Fail, and you will not see the dawn.”
The first question came softly:
“What rises without feet, falls without hands, and can blanket the world?”
Andrius thought of storms, of snow drifting across the meadows. “Snow,” he answered.
The owl gave a single nod. “One truth earned.”
The Owl’s Second Question: The Wing Between Worlds
The owl tilted its head. “What can carry the dead without touching them, and the living without holding them?”
Andrius hesitated, but his mind reached for the funeral songs he’d heard since childhood. “A name,” he said. “Spoken, it carries memory.”
The owl’s eyes glimmered. “Two truths.”
Third Question: The Egg of the Evening Sky
“What holds a world within it, yet shatters at a single touch?”
He smiled. “An egg.”
“Three truths,” said the owl, rustling its wings. “The path grows narrower.”
Fourth Question: The River Without Water
“What flows from the past to the future but never wets the hand?”
“Time,” said Andrius.
“Four truths. Few walk this far.”
Fifth Question: The Root Above the Ground
The owl’s voice deepened. “What has branches but no leaves, and shelters without shade?”
“A family,” Andrius replied after a long pause.
The owl watched him closely. “Five truths. The night shortens.”
Sixth Question: The Flame that Does Not Burn
“What can warm a heart, cool a rage, and never consume itself?”
Andrius felt the weight of it. “Forgiveness.”
The owl dipped its head in agreement. “Six truths. One remains.”
Seventh Question: The Feather’s Shadow
The last question came in a whisper that felt like wind in the ear. “What is lighter than air, swifter than thought, yet can crush a man’s spirit?”
Andrius thought of hunger, fear, and storms, but none seemed right. Then he understood. “A lie.”
The owl unfolded its wings. “Seven truths. You have earned what you sought.”
The Truth That Changes All Things
From beneath one great wing, the owl drew a single white feather, tipped with gold. “This is the truth: the wisest answer is not the one that ends a question, but the one that begins a better one.”
When Andrius descended the hill at dawn, the feather glowed faintly in his hand. In the years that followed, he became the village’s quiet counselor, a man who never gave answers quickly but always left others thinking long after.
Some nights, children swore they saw the owl on the oak’s highest branch, watching over him. Andrius never confirmed the tale. But when he died, they buried the golden-tipped feather with him, so that the questions might follow him into whatever lay beyond.
Moral of the Tale
Wisdom is not found in knowing all the answers, but in asking the questions that lead to truth.
Knowledge Check
What is the moral of the folktale “The Owl’s Seven Questions”?
That wisdom lies in asking the right questions, not in knowing all the answers.
What cultural group does the tale come from?
This folktale originates from the Lithuanian tradition of Europe.
How many riddles did the owl ask Andrius?
Seven.
What reward did Andrius receive for answering all the questions?
A golden-tipped feather containing the truth about wisdom.
Is “The Owl’s Seven Questions” a trickster tale, ghost story, or moral fable?
It is a moral fable with elements of supernatural guardianship.
How is this folktale relevant to modern readers?
It encourages thoughtful questioning and reflective wisdom over quick answers.
Origin: This story comes from the Lithuanian tradition of Europe.
