Owls

There are many Native Americans that regard the owl as a messenger. Not a messenger in the sense that FedEx is, but more like an angel. The "downside" of this type of messenger (to some) is that an owl's messages tend to convey a portent of death or some other severe transformational event. To give you an idea of how serious a visit from a owl can be to some Native Americans, some won't even have pictures of owls in their homes or even be in the same room with owl feathers and such things.

As with most indigenous wisdom, there is usually something to it. But the mysterious often walks hand in hand with the mundane. Owls get thirsty and last night as the last rays of light were fading, a Great Horned owl came down to drink from a dish in our front yard that holds one of the few sources of water in the neighborhood. He cautiously dipped his body down to drink while keeping a watchful eye. My wife and I were riveted. He was completely fascinating.

Seeing the owl made me think back a bit. A couple summers ago we lived in a place outside of Tucson that was affected by flooding. Shortly before that flood, though, we had one, two and sometimes three owls hooting on or around our property. Coincidence or not (if you believe in that kind of thing), the owl's visit last night had me reflecting on these ancient beliefs and the flood that forced us into moving a couple years ago.

Edgar Allen Poe's poem The Raven conveys the same sense of mystery I was feeling last night. So, although I don't expect to be profound, I borrowed his poem and wrote the following "with a wink":

Once upon a summer evening, as I sat there towards my bedtime leaning
I spotted in the daylight fading landing soft outside my door
While we watched an owl come drinking, looking then as if blinking
I said to my wife sitting on the floor
"Tis some visitor", I muttered, "on our desert floor.
Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was a year ago last December,
After months we spent so tender after a flood on our desert floor
Eagerly we wished the morrow, - mainly for our own home door.
To set our books and end the travel- travel made us both heart sore
To test the words and wedding vows that we both fore-swore
Homeless and left to explore

The owl before warned of our parting, though our home just starting-
A portent of the storm to come and of fire's rage to our back door
Washed close by as if a token telling of the warning spoken
Leave us and leave our home unbroken! - silent rather than implore!
Fly away from us you messenger of ancient lore
Far from us on the desert floor.