The Owl
Just in living my life, there always seems to be something important to write about.
Yesterday morning in the pre-dawn, I discovered a barred owl lying motionless in the snow at the base of our pin oak. I’d taken my dog out to the backyard. This is somewhat new, a thing I’d rather not do straight out of bed, in the cold, in the dark, but he has to go; and he has trouble getting back up the steps, so I go out and bring him around to the front. Often, despite my reluctance to go, there seems to be some other good reason for me to be out there, the moon or stars, this time the owl.
We’ve had a pair of barred owls living nearby and they are often in our yard in full view, even in the daytime. They once had a nest high up in my neighbor’s pine tree but hawks took it over some years ago and now no one lives there because the tree has died and offers little to no coverage. Nevertheless, we’ve heard and seen this pair or one at a time quite often in our backyard, day and night.
Barred owls do mate for life. I thought right away of its mate, especially since we’d seen them together. Did s/he already know? Was the mate somewhere nearby watching me? Do owls mourn? What had happened to this amazing creature that I had so often admired, with whom I had made eye contact so often?
I wanted my neighbor to come and see, but it was a few hours before she was about. She wondered if it might still be alive, something I had dismissed. In the end we picked her up (I’ll make a decision here about gender, since “it” feels disrespectful). She had no marks at all on her. She looked perfect, eyes and wings wide open, every feather beautiful and unharmed. I held her, stroked her soft, downy head, examined all of those lovely feathers and her bright yellow feet. It felt like a privilege to be able to touch this wild and lovely creature, even though she was gone.
Eventually I took her into the house and showed my son. “Bird flu,” he pronounced. It could have died of bird flu.
There was no one to call for information. Raptor Rehab closed, Department of Conservation closed. I had intended to leave her by the creek to let her mate visit her and let nature do what it does. I was having many spiritual and romantic thoughts. In spiritual circles, owls represent wisdom and deeper vision. The visit of an owl can be a reminder to look beyond what is obvious, to trust your intuition. I thought of this as a sad but beautiful event. Romantic with a capital “R.”
It turned out that the Department of Conservation had a warning: “Do not touch or pick up dead wild birds! Remove them to a trash bag (no!) to prevent other birds or animals from getting near them! Email us!” They want to test birds that are found dead. I then felt foolish for cradling this bird as if it were a baby. Romantic notions blown.
End of my morning of wonder and reverie. End of finding the perfect place for this creature to lie. I removed her.
This morning, also pre-dawn, I heard her mate call and saw him in their usual spot, a branch of our mulberry tree. Was he calling for her?
Even in my little world here in Midwest USA, here in Missouri, which is not thought of as particularly beautiful or wild (though I find it so), dramas of nature unfold every day. The richness of our humble world never ceases to delight and fill me with wonder. And regardless of any practicalities, I will trust my intuition, even if it does tell me to pick up a dead wild bird.
“I like talking to Rabbit. He talks about sensible things. He doesn’t use long, difficult words, like Owl. He uses short, easy words, like ‘What about lunch?’ and ‘Help yourself, Pooh.’ I suppose really, I ought to go and see Rabbit.” - A.A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh
“Every night the owl with his wild monkey-face calls through the black branches, and the mice freeze and the rabbits shiver in the snowy fields— and then there is the long, deep trough of silence when he stops singing, and steps into the air.” - Mary Oliver
“Roo was washing his face and paws in the stream, while Kanga explained to everybody proudly that this was the first time he had ever washed his face himself, and Owl was telling Kanga an Interesting Anecdote full of long words like Encyclopædia and Rhododendron to which Kanga wasn’t listening.” - A.A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh
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Thanks for listening,
Kay
P.S. MerryThoughts is the name of my first book, out of print at the moment. The word is a British one, referring both to a wishbone and to the ritual of breaking the wishbone with the intention of either having a wish granted or being the one who marries first, thus the "merry thoughts."