I visit an owl roost, past the end of the driveway, down on the edge of the river where the water gurgles around a small cut bank that is crowned by Russian olive and willow. The roost is a power pole I resented for a time until I deduced an owl was using it. Then that man made object became dear to me, it became the owl roost, something useful and lovely in its own way — I had a change of heart. I have never seen the owl that roosts there but I know it is frequented by an owl because I often find her feathers caught up on the sharp prickles of tumbleweeds and the blades of bunchgrass around the base of the power pole.
I collect those feathers of hers and I carry them with me further downriver as I walk with the dogs in the evenings. I hold them in my hands and absentmindedly stroke them and straighten them as I stroll. Whatever invisible things I carry with me are carefully pressed into those feathers. And I walk. I walk. Eventually I reach a bend in the river where I clamber across boulders to be above the water and I hold the feather out over the current. I do the last of my praying and thinking and then I set the feathers on the wind where they drift erratically, as feathers will, moving on invisible strings of time and air. Eventually they touch the Snake River and slide toward a set of rapids to be folded into the froth and fizz of living waters and I turn and make the long walk home in the gloaming.
Last night, in a rugged wind, I set out walking. I made my way down to the river, down to the owl roost and I looked for a feather and a prayer and there were many feathers. There were too many feathers, more feathers than prayers. I knew immediately what had happened. My owl had perished. I believe she was electrocuted while on her perch and was found on the ground, spent and burnt by high voltage, by the coyotes who made a midnight feast of her.
I gathered all the feathers I could see and walked with them pressed against my chest where the wind couldn’t rip them from my grip. I reached the boulder strand and stood out over the water, felt the mean wind punching at me, spoke my prayer and released the feathers into the gale. They flew one last time — tugged and pulled by the canyon air until they dropped into the teal blue of the river and disappeared into the madness of the whitewater.
It was a viking burial with wind and water instead of flame. I’ll miss that owl. Her feathers led me one by one into contemplation, awareness and prayer. I like to think that in the end, we set each other free.
gah this stirred up something lovely in the soul bones. I was curious what kind of owl she might be…so I headed over to the Feather Atlas (amazing) and it looks like a Barn Owl to me.
ps. I love that big brilliant blue ring!
She was a barn owl. We have a lot of owls in this area, and raptors — this is actually a migration corridor we live in so the feathered ones are many! The bald eagle and golden eagle population is magnificent at the moment. At the farm we have quasi-resident short eared owls, great horned owls and barn owls. Every evening is a hootie delight though I sometimes fear for my kitties!
I visited Bruneau Dunes last year en route to Utah and was so delighted with all the raptors! The bird activity was magnificent! I need to get myself back to that magnificent corner of the world!
It’s like that in south central Idaho ALL OVER. It’s amazing. Especially when we get a major cold snap — everything with talons will be out hunting for calories and fats ALL day long and all the raptors and owls stand out so much better against the frost, snow and river steam. It’s magnificent. I’m delighted you’ve experienced it first hand.
What a beautiful piece of writing. Thank you
Thank you for taking time to read it and leave a comment. Appreciate you so.
Powerful. Cathartic.
Thank you.
Thank you Kurt!
The description in your words,and acts of freeing kindness, left a warm softness in my heart,as I sit here cuddling and loving my Remi.I needed this quiet moment as the start of my day.
Give Remi a snuggle for me, too. Thanks for being here, Heidi.
I hope you have a beautiful day.
lovely to start my day with the good kind of tears. After I read this it felt like it dissolved into the ethers…so beautiful.
Thank you.
!!!
It kind of felt that way when I wrote it, too.
Love seeing you here.
XX
amen and amen.
we’re all connected. the owl, the coyote, all of us.
xx
True enough!
XX
When I lived in Wyoming I collected the feathers of so many different birds out in the hay fields. Each one held it’s own special magic – it’s own story. I like the idea of sending prayers out on the winds and waters. God is listening.
God is always listening.
Love to have you here, Lady Waggoner.
XX
I am sad when I think of the wildlife that perishes when it mixes with our modern ways–ways that enable me to read about this owl. Simple and complicated.
A beautiful tribute.
Simple and complicated is a good way to phrase it.
Thanks for popping by, Steph.
XX
This is so lovely.
I’m so happy that you share your many talents.
Thanks you.
Cinda,
I’m thankful you’re here so I can share with you.
XX
Jill! I love your beautiful heart! You’re amazing
You are too, lovely lady!!! XXX