Our friends were driving us home in their car. We were returning from a wonderful dinner on a summer evening. When we pulled up into our driveway there it was: a big barred owl perched on the top of our entryway roof. It seemed happy to stay as we all exited the car. I pulled out my phone … Would I be able to capture this very special moment?
My husband and I had been seeing this owl in the evening swooping around in the tree in the front yard for the last few weeks. And we heard it. We loved the surprising singing erupting in the evenings. Sometimes it called out at 2 a.m. or 4 a.m. through the open-windowed summer nights.
“Who cooks for you.
Who cooks for you-all?”
Why was this bird so bold? I mean, it just sat there as we all stared up at the beauty of this creature.
I remembered our walnut tree out back where the late-night hooting usually came from.
There it was. A cute, fluffy, adorable owl chick. This nestling was being protected by its parents.
I wanted to protect it too. A few quick pictures, and I indicated to our group that the show was over. The owls deserved their privacy.
I thought to myself “How wonderful to see this. What were the spiritual characteristics of this animal?”
What did it symbolize to humans lucky enough to see? A quick internet search and there it was:
When you see an owl
It’s time to face the shadow.
Find wisdom in silence.
And face the truth—author unknown
OK, owl parent, little nestling, I need to tap into my intuition. I will take you up on that.
One evening in the mid-1990s, I participated in an owl walk at Prairiewoods.
The young man leading the group was a Naturalist from Linn County or Johnson County. I remember that it was cold—a late winter, early spring evening, and our small group listened to his presentation about owls and then set off. We tramped through the paths with flashlights following him as he called to the owls. He called once, we listened and hiked on. We hiked on, and he tried again. We followed as he tried and tried to spot an owl—any owl.
It didn’t happen that night, but the memory of the enthusiasm of this nature leader, longing to see an owl for the group, has stayed with me. Now, all these years later, owls have come to me uninvited. Here it is, for all the neighborhood to see, 150 miles away from Prairiewoods.
—Peggy Murphy