An Owl Story

 

Barred Owl, picture taken last year

I was sitting at the piano this afternoon when a bird flew by the window. Since I was focused on the music, it was only a fleeting sense of movement out the corner of my eye so I don't know what kind of bird it was but suspected a Blue Jay because they often fly by on their way from the front yard to the back yard. Immediately, the sound of something crashing into one of the bird room windows shattered the peace. I decided I'd better have a look and glancing down from the bird room (it's a good five feet above ground), there lie a beautiful, motionless Barred Owl, head back, wings spread out. Ohh, nooo. It was such a sad sight, a magnificent bird lying there dead by all appearances. It put the kibosh on the musical euphoria of the moment. I thought I saw it take a breath, the breathing of an injured bird, so I went downstairs with the broom to see if I could reach it from the cellar door but the snow was way too deep and I was sinking in up beyond my knees. The broom reached it though and I used it to flip the owl's head as it was sort of flopped back. I realized there was nothing I could do and it would perish. It made me so sad. It was taking a few breaths, and by the time I got back upstairs it occurred to me that maybe it had only been knocked out, and perhaps, just possibly, it would come to. So I kept going to the window to look for positive developments, alas not. But finally, it moved it's head! It had been rendered unconscious! It got up on it's feet and drew it's wings in and sat there for a good ten minutes more then flew to a tree on the front lawn where it remained for the rest of the afternoon. I breathed a glad sigh of relief.