Nearly every night since we arrived at our month–long stay at the cabin in the mountains, my family and I have listened intently to the sound of several owls, one of which sounds just beyond our dusk–to–dawn light’s illumination. “Who–who, who–whooooh. Who–who, who–whoooh.”
Finally, after pulling into the driveway last night after a long day of being “in the city,” we saw our newfound friend. The wise old owl sat motionless other than its constantly rotating head and studious eyes. It stared intently at our Honda, a metal machine which must baffle the poor owl’s concept of logic. We stared back just as intently, as baffled by its beauty as it was of our automobile.
When I finally shifted to reverse to back into our parking spot, the owl’s wings spread wide and flapped audibly as it flew from the driveway and into one of the countless oaks surrounding the cabin.
Hopefully he becomes more accustomed to us bipedal animals and grows more friendly now that he knows that we mean him no harm.