Once upon a moonlit evening, while the foothills whispered, weaving,
Gentle winds through aspen leaves like secrets softly told—
While I wandered, trailward creeping, where the dusky night was steeping,
Came a sound both low and sweeping—like a question, clear and bold.
’Twas an owl that softly called, perched upon a wooden post—
Perched and calling, “Take the trail—explore the Hidden Hoot—evermore!”
I stood still, my lantern swaying, while its golden beam was playing
On the quiet forest floor where shadows curled and bent and rolled.
Then the owl, with feathers gleaming, eyes like lanterns softly beaming,
Seemed to speak of twilight dreaming—of the wonders I’d behold.
“Take a step,” it urged with song, “through autumn leaves where paths belong.
Your boots will find a welcome here—explore the Hidden Hoot—evermore.”
Through the cottonwoods I wandered, as the starlit night grew fonder,
While the owl from branch to branch flew just ahead, my trusted guide.
Past the creek’s soft silver glimmer, where the grasses lean and shimmer,
Each new corner seemed to whisper, “There is magic here inside.”
Nature hummed its quiet lore, weaving trails through dusk’s soft door,
And the owl kept gently calling, “Explore the Hidden Hoot—evermore.”
Now the trail is dressed in wonder, where the stars like lanterns thunder,
And the autumn wind is sighing through the foothills once again.
If the night should call you nearer, and the air grow crisp and clearer,
Come and find the owl’s own mirror in Gillispie’s gentle glen.
Where its echo stirs the core—where the night sings tales of yore—
You will hear it softly whisper: “Explore your SCLT trails… evermore.”
Hidden Hoot Trail is open every day from dawn to dusk.
