decline was legendary. One day in 1909, the seven-year-old Disney was playing by himself in the backyard of his family’s Missouri farmhouse. He spied a big brown owl with its back to him. Like any red-blooded boy—certainly like my boys when they were seven—he snuck up on it with the intention of grabbing it, thinking little about the consequences of actually succeeding in his objective. Once he got hold of the panicked bird, it predictably began to scream and claw. Now in a panic himself, he threw it to the ground and stomped it to death. The ancients thought the owl was a bad omen. In the
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