The owl arrived Thursday morning. I first noticed it as I was starting my car. I went in and got my camera to take some pictures. It sat there up on a branch, the morning sun warming it, its eyes opening and closing periodically. It chose a strategic spot; on the edge of the woods, with a great view of both the compost heap and the chicken run. Its head pivoted minutely as it took in both locations.
The owl was there again Friday morning, and again on Saturday. Saturday I had the time to watch it more frequently. I set up a scope in my bedroom and pulled out my binoculars. Twice, when I watched it, it swooped down after the blue jays that were scavenging in the compost, but it arrived too late. It seemed non-plussed by its miscalculation and their quickness.
I did some errands and when I returned the owl had moved to a different tree. I watched it swoop to the front of the chicken coop, I hoped it caught the rat, but no its talons were empty again. It flew back to the original perch.
I stayed outside and talked to it. I asked it if it was hungry. It did seem odd that it was hunting in the day. I looked at it, its wise eyes staring me down, its gentle soul sending me a message. I thought of the Native American myth that if you hear the owl call your name, it is foretelling your death. I wouldn’t mind an owl bringing me that news.
“Will you speak to me owl, and will you give me answers? Would you share words of wisdom, or tell me you are hungry? Which would it be?”
It looked at me carefully before it spoke. “I am not bringing you news of your death that is not my purpose here today. My mate is hungry as she sits on our eggs. I took your young hen late last winter, and remembered this place. This is the edge of my hunting ground and I was waiting for you to open your coop. I see you have it closed up still.”
“Yes, I do.” I replied. “There is a rat living inside. I will haul out the bag of rye to tempt it to come out, and then you can take that to your mate.” I pulled out the bag of rye and let it spill on the ground.
“Thank you. I will see what I can do, but I will need to begin looking elsewhere soon.”
I went back inside, and looked out the window occasionally. I waited until about four that afternoon, the wood in the house was used up and I really needed to bring some in. I had put it off because the owl was there, and I needed to go close to it, to get to the wheelbarrow. As I walked over I said, “I’m just bringing in wood, you can stay.”
The owl ruffled its feathers, looked one last time and politely said “It is time for me to move on. Thank you for trying to help.” It spread its wings and in a silent whisper disappeared into the dusk.