Owl Friend

Photo credit to one of my neighbors who snapped a pic of this owl and shared it in a neighborhood group. It looks exactly like the owl in the story I'm about to tell.

I had a feeling I'd see you today. As I strolled along the first bit of my walk, letting whatever thoughts might fly into my head build a nest there, I thought about you. I've seen you swooping through the woods along my path several times in the past few days, always at that same spot on the footbridge behind the high school. Powerful and silent, you glide through the trees and disappear into their branches. Just thinking about you triggered an echo of the shivers I always feel when I see you; you're majestic and mysterious and just a little bit creepy. You fascinate me and freak me out.

So as I come upon that little footbridge, I am looking for you. I call out to my dog in several unnecessary ways, just to give you a lil heads up that we are approaching your domain. I come upon your Doug fir growing in the little grove on the edge of the forest, sandwiched between the walkway and the parking lot, and look up.

There you are.

You're backlit by a tall light behind you, sitting on a branch maybe ten feet up. In a flash, I make out the unmistakable silhouette of your owl noggin. Deep in the shadows though you are, I catch a glimpse of the white and brown ruffled feathers that can only mean owl, and I feel the familiar tingles begin. 

I know it's you.

But just to be sure, I take a few more steps, so that I can look back up into the tree from the other side, with the angle of the street light shining fully upon you.

I see your face.

Your eyes, shining deep and alert, are staring into mine.

And hypnotized, for a full second, maybe two, I stare into yours. 

Now the goose bumps begin to zoom across every inch of my body, head to toe and back again, round and round. Dumbstruck by your imposing magnificence, I also somehow feel as if I'm invading your sacred owl privacy, trespassing into your secret owl life, crossing a line between our two separate lives that I should not be crossing.

I quickly turn, cast my eyes downward, and walk on. 

But you better believe that not a minute has passed since then that I have not relived our encounter. I see 

your dignified profile, 

your snowy feathers, 

your glossy black eyes, 

and I overflow with the magic of our encounter.

And you better believe that tomorrow, my dear little owl friend, I will be looking for you again.