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I came home from work a few years ago and met this owl who was perched right over our chicken pen. The chickens were netted in, and probably safe. In fact, the owl was likely looking for the mice that frequent the barn that the chickens live in. But the chickens would not come out until the owl departed.
Last fall while we were cleaning out our deer blinds, two of these owls flew out of one blind. One from the top where they torn up the roof and the other right above me while I opened the door. They completely trashed the inside of the blind, small animal bones, feces, a nest was built, the stench was terrible! Needles to say no one used that blind...
I absolutely love owls. They are beautiful, amazing birds of prey. I've been lucky to have a few close encounters with them. On one instance, I was out for a walk at night and just happened to look up as one glided no more than ten feet above my head, not even a whisper of sound as it flew over, so eerie and awesome at the same time. Another time I was outside on the front porch as one swooped down right past me, and then glided back up and into a tree... again not a whisper of sound, until it went into that tree and about fifty very startled sparrows erupted out of the leaves as one of their fellows suddenly became dinner. That was an awesome sight. I've seen owls a number of other times, but those two sightings are the most memorable and special to me. They are the ninja assassins of the bird world. Silent death. But there's a level of majesty about them that few other animals seem to possess. And it almost seems like they know it.
I live in West Virginia. I guess the magic of the mountains and wildlife gets overlooked when you live here. I once gazed in awe at a bobcat as it ran infront my car, busting out my fog light.
It is a beautiful place.
It is a beautiful place.
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