November 14, 2017 by petrujviljoen
We grew up with one as a pet. A barn owl came to us as a chick, grew into adulthood, then left. We hoped it was because he found a mate. It was a free bird, never caged, never tied to post.
Where I am now a pair of eared brown owls have a nest way down in the gorge. I listen for their call at night. Reassured when I hear them. One night, already in bed getting ready to sleep one of them called right by my window. I jumped it was such a surprise.
I’ve written before about the owl on the fence. I was having the customary glass of wine outside on the steps, while watching the sunset.
I wrote a short story wherein an owl featured large.
As an art student, still in the city, a display of caged birds diverted us from lunch for a short while. We grouped around an eagle owl whose eyes were closed – then opened. It turned its head 180°, singling me out with a stare that lasted a long time.
et tu Petru?
Group stirs, shifts and leaves
Linked to Dverse Poets