Five years ago I was sitting in our family room in Portland, staring out the window and chatting on the phone with an old friend when he swooped in. A gorgeous spotted owl.
I could hardly believe what I was seeing. He perched on a tree at the edge of our yard and spent the next half hour turning his head 280-degrees to take in our little piece of the world.
Can you spot the owl?
Over the two years that we lived in that house, I communed with the owl on several occasions. Just before our relocation to Sacramento, I spent hours in the sun room staring out at what I’d come to know as my friend.
Confession: I was also on a self-imposed TV vacation, so there wasn’t much else to do.
The first 9 months we were in Sacramento, we lived in an apartment. Two dogs and four flights of stairs for potty breaks is not the greatest.
We eventually made our escape just outside of downtown along the Sacramento River and early one morning during the summer of 2011, I heard a soft, “hoot, hoot.”
“What? An owl?” We only heard him for the first few weeks, but as the days grew longer, he would perch on the trees behind our yard at dusk. Phillip and I would subsequently perch on our deck, passing binoculars back and forth. We were mesmerized.
This time our friend was a great horned owl.
Over July and August of 2012, we watched two owl babies learn to hunt along our levy. They would fly up high and dive-bomb the pebbles below, feel outstretched, over and over again. Cutest ever. In early fall, everyone flew off.
We missed them. Phillip said he felt protected by hearing their hoots late at night, and I agree.
There is something about owls that is exceptionally majestic and wonderfully mysterious.
Life is such a jumble. Every now and again you need a sign that someone or something is watching over you. It is beautifully comforting to intersect with nature. The serendipity of it makes you feel cared for, and yes, protected. Even if that protection is only a flint of imagination assigned to some migrating birds.
Each year, you’re never quite sure if the birds will return. Who knows if your friends have remembered your address?
In late January one dark early evening, we heard, “hoot, hoot.” Finally, last week we caught our first glimpse.
His silhouette is right in the middle.
This one is a bit fuzzy. I caught him just as flight began. I adore his little owl feet.
There he goes.
It’s just nice to know that something is watching, maybe even protecting, visiting in the form of an owl.
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