Parliament of Owls – Day 627

Great Horned Owl looking for dinner – Photo: L. Weikel

Parliament of Owls

Appropriate in this case? Probably not. But it makes for a good title! While a group of owls is technically referred to as a parliament of owls, I suspect the term probably refers to a group of all the same kind of owls. And that was not our experience last night.

But oh, did we receive a wonderful dose of Owl Medicine*!

It was all because we decided to walk a little later than usual, as I mentioned in last night’s post. What an assortment of surprises unfolded for us. Actually, the experience with the owls unfolded before we crested the hill and noticed Antares lurking beneath the moon, and then Jupiter shining like a beacon in the southwest sky, with Saturn bringing up the rear.

YouTube

I probably would’ve written about the owls first, since they arrived first on the scene, but I have to be honest: I couldn’t write about the owls we encountered without including a link to my recording of the screech owl that was calling to us so emphatically.

And while I did manage to figure out how to upload a video to my (Owl Medicine Shamanic Healing) YouTube account a few weeks ago, when I recorded the Coyotes serenading Comet Neowise, I wasn’t familiar enough with the process to easily upload it last night and write a post.

So I saved the owls for tonight. And yea! Not only did I manage to upload my recording of the screech owl trilling and calling last night, but I also found my photos of Hootie, the screech owl that actually flew into the door of my car as I was driving home one night in the middle of a snowstorm. That’s a story for another day.

Hootie – Hangin’ out in our bathroom, recovering – Photo: L. Weikel

Walking at Dusk

As you can hear here, there was a Screech Owl serenading us as we walked along the forest-lined road last night. I couldn’t see the owl, but I’m glad its voice was captured pretty well by my phone (amidst the background cacophony of crickets and katydids). I hadn’t meant for the flash to light up as I pressed record, and I was surprised it continued to vocalize so nicely even though I was effectively shining a spotlight into its living room.

I fumbled with the phone after recording the above clip and managed to turn off the flash, but the Screech Owl went quiet. I was grateful for what I’d managed to record.

While Karl and I were marveling at how close the owl had sounded, and reminiscing about our time with Hootie, Karl suddenly grabbed my arm and pointed to the other side of the road, the side that opened out onto fields of hay. “Look! That isn’t…,” he began. “Nah. It must be a peace eagle,” he answered himself. (Peace Eagle is what we were taught years ago is another name Native Americans use for vultures.)

My eyes scanned the branches in the vicinity of where he was pointing.

“Oh! I see it!” I whispered. “No – you were right. You thought it was a Great Horned Owl, didn’t you? ‘Cause that’s what it is.”

I could tell for sure it was a Great Horned by the shape of its head.

We were both giddy with the gift of encountering two different kinds of owls in the span of five minutes.

No Hoots

The Great Horned didn’t hoot at us. While I tried to call to it, all I managed to elicit was a sweet 180 degree swivel of its head in my direction. I’m sure it was probably saying to itself, “What the heck? You’re pathetic.”

While I did manage to video it when it finally flew away, it’s not very clear (it was at full zoom), and it isn’t worth uploading.

On our walk tonight, at about the same time of the evening, we were once again privy to a Screech Owl’s mournful call. Sadly, we neither heard nor saw any Great Horned Owls. But we know they’re out there.

Great Horned Owl – Photo: L. Weikel

*affiliate link

(T-484)

Late Summer Buzz – Day 288

The Ubiquitous Yellow Flowers (beautiful but probably invasive) – Photo: L. Weikel

Late Summer Buzz

No, I’m not referencing the name of an exotic cocktail to be enjoyed while sitting ‘round a crackling campfire. Nor am I alluding to the effects I might feel should I be imbibing said exotic cocktail.

Instead, I’m describing the constant drone of crickets or perhaps other similarly situated bugs that begins during late summer nights. It’s a curious sound, really, for it sometimes can meld so seamlessly into the background that we almost don’t hear it. It’s sort of almost the natural equivalent of static – something that comes to our attention when it suddenly stops and we realize how profound the silence is when that background drone is absent.

My sense is that the drone is crickets; crickets that are nearing the end of their lives and are, in their way, stuck on their ‘on’ switch. For whatever reason, they can’t stop. They’re not trying to get individual attention – you, know, attract a mate – the way they were at the beginning of their life cycle.

Death Drone

Now they’re just holding a single note.  One very long, very monotonous note. A droning tone. This droning, which I suppose is not actually, technically, droning since it’s much higher pitched than a conventional (or even dictionary definition of drone – which almost always specifies ‘low’) strikes me as a death call.

They’re stuck on ‘on.’ Until they’re shut down. Or shut off. Permanently.

Mother Nature’s Night Sounds

I’m writing about this phenomenon because I’m sitting on my couch with the front door open and the sounds of nature are keeping me company. The death drone of the crickets is the most noticeable – at least at the moment.

Lucky for me, it’s the rare car that whisks past at this time of night. Instead, I’m treated to Mother Nature’s night sounds.

Last night I had a screech owl trilling right outside my front door. It had to have been hanging out in the towering pine trees leaning wearily against each other just across the road. Strangely, I was awakened at 5:18 a.m. to a couple of screech owls chatting just outside our bedroom window. It was their pointed conversation that penetrated my dream and called my attention back to this Middle World.

What’s That?

I have to laugh: just as I was writing that last sentence, the slow-building bray of one of my adored donkeys that graze on the hillside behind our home began its deep yet vague, hard to pinpoint, call-of-the-sand-people sounding moan** that ends with its inevitable onkey-honk. For the life of me, I’m always caught off guard when I hear the first couple seconds of that very odd exhortation. I don’t know why – it’s one of my favorite sounds (day or night). Yet my mind always pings off that sound initially, insists that my ears zero in on the source, demanding I make sense of it. You’d think I’d recognize it immediately by now.

Which makes me wonder: why am I always fooled?

I ask that question and suddenly a cricket or three suddenly stop holding their note. It’s almost a relief from the pressure I didn’t realize was building in my head. My brain can relax, and the reprieve allows me to notice other crickets holding a slightly different note.

All of this reminds me of an especially peculiar ‘vision’ I awoke to the other morning. I swear, I opened my eyes and the image below was the first thing I saw. It took me a moment, as you can imagine, to make sense of it.

Rocco’s Toy – Photo: L. Weikel

 

It’s a reflection of a small plastic toy that Karl put on his nightstand, an odd souvenir from a friendship he’d struck with one of the longest attorney-client relationships I had in my practice: a man I cared for and represented for just under 30 years.

He passed away a few years ago. And I think of him more often than I – or he, I imagine – would’ve ever thought I would.

We’re entering that season, I guess.

**Surely you ‘get’ this reference to the scene in Star Wars – Episode IV (the first one) when Luke meets Obi-Wan for the first time?

(T-823)