The Great Horned Owl

She is perched on the edge of her nest. Three owlets grow and burrow next to her: pushing her to the edge of her home, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She will wait patiently all day until dusk overtakes the sky, when she’ll silently fly in search of food for her little ones. All day she will sit, with only her eyes and head moving occasionally. She looks at me with one watchful eye, the other closed. Her ears tilt towards me and her babies’ heads bob up to see the commotion of parked car and toddler rustle. Through the binoculars I see myself foolishly through her sharp yet relaxed gaze. It is as if she is saying “What is this? Camera clicking and binoculars mediating, sunblock being smeared on child’s face?” She just watches me. Nothing between us. No lenses, no filters, no film on skin . She is not troubled to move, even slightly.

Long neck, chin drawn in, tall stature, still frame: she strikes me as being akin to a great meditator: drawing herself into one composed line, she sits quietly and observes, tending her babies with the perfect zen-like non-perturbed gaze of a realized master. In this tree top I see a reflection of how I would like to perch: still mother, resting patiently as my children learn to fly…

2 thoughts on “The Great Horned Owl

  1. Stolk

    I’ve never seen babies in their nest either… how sweet! And yes, if we could all be so patient as mothers.However, I bet owlets don’t throw themselves down on the floor wailing if they don’t x, y, or z…..

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