I am in the USA these days. I have two weeks between my return from Malawi and departure to Brazil for Christmas and New Year’s. It feels good to be cold.
When I am in the USA, I do a lot of bicycling. Exiting my apartment building, I head two blocks to the Potomac River. When I reach the water there is a bicycle trail that extends both right and left. Some days I turn left to visit the National Mall. I cross the Memorial Bridge between Virginia and Washington DC, emerging behind the Lincoln Memorial. I cycle the entire length of the National Mall, passing the Smithsonian’s many museums. At my farthest point from home, I climb the big hill up to the Capitol building and enjoy a beautiful view of the Washington Monument as I speed down Capitol Hill to the National Gallery of Art.
Most days I do not turn left, though. I turn right and head to Mt. Vernon, George Washington’s home. This route is beautiful and peaceful, and is one of the most famous urban bicycle routes in this area. It hugs the wide river. On it, I pass huge houses and plow through groves of trees, most of which were planted during the 1940s when the George Washington Parkway was planned, linking Washington DC and our first President’s home.
On my return home this morning I turned a corner on the path and there was a flash of light brown in front of me. The wings had a distinctive shape. It was an owl.
On my return home this morning I turned a corner on the path and there was a flash of light brown in front of me. The wings had a distinctive shape. It was an owl.
I love owls. In my lifetime I have seen very few in the wild, less than ten. All my other sightings have been at dusk or night. This was in the middle of a sunny afternoon. What was an owl doing flying in front of me at 2 p.m. on a sunny day?
That evening I was at a friend’s house and she had a bird book on a table next to her living room sofa. I leafed through it and found out I had seen a Barred Owl. They hunt in the daytime. In Virginia they are considered “very common”. Perhaps Barred Owls are very common, but for me this was a rare treat.
Before this, the last time I saw an owl was about eight months ago in Malawi. Jones and I were having a glass of wine out on our deck just after sunset. We heard a huge whoosh and an African barred owlet flew down and perched on our fence. It was hunting geckos on the side of our swimming pool. The reptiles were attracted by insects that appeared in the evening due to our house’s security lights. The owl sat quietly on the fence and intermittently swooped down, each time capturing an unlucky gecko.
If I am reincarnated as a bird, I want it to be an owl. They are rare enough that it feels special when one is seen. In many cultures they are a symbol of wisdom. Put those traits together and we have a bird that is both rare and intelligent, an attractive combination.
