The owl realised that there was no point arguing with him and flew away. But there again she heard, "Cuckoo!" The owl was, now, really furious. "What an awful noise!" she said. "Why not celebrate such a beautiful morning with a song?" wondered the cuckoo. The owl then flew to her rose willow which was hanging over the river. She saw a tiny bird there -- a blue titmouse, flying to and fro; collecting material for her nest which she was tirelessly building. The owl felt terribly ashamed of her laziness and flew far off, to a rock not to see anybody. But she heard a joyful chirping from the cracks --swallows were nesting there. Infuriated, the owl flew to the steppe. Alas! A lark's song was ringing out loud there and grasshoppers chirped in the grass. Life was a buzz everywhere, everybody was working. The owl thought, "I am not worse than the little titmouse, am I? I can build a nest for myself too!"

But her wings tired of flying and she decided to put off work till the next day. The next day she felt tired again. "I feel like sleeping now," she murmured. She again put off work and it became a routine; till snow covered the earth. But who builds nests in winter? This is how lazy owl remained homeless. She only sleeps all day long -- lazy that she is.