Owls

I have always liked owls.

However, other than knowing that they are wise, I never understood much about them.

Rarely seen in the day, I often heard them at night, but their flight is soundless and so rarely did I get a full blown look at them, unless they sat on a distant windmill tower.

Several months ago, we discovered a group of six owlets, in our abandoned barn, newly hatched, perching atop a rickety five foot high cabinet.

When we first opened the barn door and surprised them, the mother flew out an opening in the side of the building and the babies began an obnoxious hissing which lasted indefinitely with only brief pauses.

They clustered in a wad with the larger sitting on the smaller as if trying to hatch them all over again.

Skin and bone, no feathers, ugly, except for their eyes.

They hissed and stared, unblinking.

As if they were baring my inner soul.

Really.

We observed them as they grew older. They always resided atop their cabinet.

One day one of the larger ones became so annoyed with our staring at its staring that it fell off its perch.

We put on gloves, afraid of its well developed claws, and returned it to its home.

We became concerned that we were agitating them too much and so we waited over a month before visiting them again.

Even before we could open the barn door, not one but seven large, beautiful apparitions silently propelled themselves through the side opening and floated high in the sky.

That was the end of that.

Or so I thought.

One night, soon after, I heard loud thuds on my roof.

Concerned I gazed from an upstairs window and there were two of them, perched on my roof eating a midnight snack.

I spotted three more watching from nearby trees.

I glanced away and when I looked back one of the creatures was next to the window quietly staring at me.

We locked eyes for several minutes and then I very softly uttered, “Hello.”

Instantly it was gone, out into the wild black yonder.

Now the owl family lives around us. They suddenly launch from trees as we near them during the day.

They pound on the roof at night and I often see them framed against the moon.

They leave large dirty spit balls with the remains of their prey in the yard.

And also large blotches of white poop on the ground and roof.

Are they pests or is this a unique opportunity to observe the habits of a reclusive creature.

They do seem more than just another bird.

Maybe that is why no one in the family will let me shoot them.