Conversations with an Owl

In the middle of the desert.

Photo by Andy Chilton on Unsplash

Sunsets are my favourite time of day.

They're also the favourite time for Charlie, the owl, to visit me.

In the hot evenings of the Arizona desert in Sedona, magic happens every night.

Just her, my faithful companion dog, Mateus, and me.

Owls have binocular eyes, so she glides over for our chat hour when she sees me from a distance pulling up a chair, beer in hand. And she’s always on time.

We have deep philosophical conversations about the meaning of…being an owl.

Her stories are always powerful, and they have made me a better listener. I appreciate her very much for that.

Lately, she's told me some secrets about herself. Some kinky ones, too. She needed to confess and let it all hang out; hence, thoughtfully, I took notes to keep up with the details so I could write them here.

Boy, this girl knew how to handle her males! She squeezed them for everything they were worth before breaking their hearts for a new pursuit.

She candidly told me that her latest conquest has given her the best offspring since 2020. Still, the poor suitor was exhausted between building her a beautiful nest worthy of an empress, gathering mice through her gestation period, and watching over the 12 eggs while she went swimming. Like finished for the count and begged for mercy when it was all said and done. But she didn't feel like listening.

Instead, she sends him to run more errands.

Stony heart of an owl.

When I asked why she made such extreme demands, she replied, "If they want the gold, they must dig for it.”

Okay.

So, if she were in the mood for shrimp, he'd get them. And he knew he'd better ask what colour she wanted if she wanted a rat.

But the guy was obsessed. And that's the way she planned it.

But the babies were the most beautifully precious the county had ever seen. That made him a very proud papa, so it was all worth it in her eyes.

“Nature was happy,” she said convincingly. “And so were we.”

After his job was done, she'd dispose of him, promising they'd always be friends.

The poor guy didn't know what hit him, but before long, she was making out with another boyfriend.

I'm unsure why she'd tell me all her secrets, but I was delighted to listen.

“Owl-eater” doesn't sound the same as a man-eater, but you get the gist.

One spring season, she couldn't decide between two beautiful males, and since, according to her, she was a proper lady; she had them battle it out.

I facetiously asked, “At dawn?” but I don't believe she caught it.

Instead, she said she had them meet at a particular hour to have her kids present to watch a natural spectacle.

She even brought bandages.

“Winner gets all,” she said, beaming.

Our sunset chats became a constant event and had me looking forward to them. I learned more about owls than the Internet could ever tell me.

“What do they know?” she said at one point, hooting loudly.

She hated getting old when her kids took flight, leaving the empty nest behind, but it wasn't long before she'd go for another round.

She thought humans could be more grateful and offer more treats to owls, which, for some reason, made me laugh hysterically.

She had a wonderful sense of humour and an excellent understanding of human behaviour. It was great to listen to her point of view since we are seldom interested in anything other than ourselves.

“Owls,” she continued, “are magical creatures who give humans considerable advantages and gifts.”

“If it weren't for me and my boyfriends, you'd all be dead around here.”

“Who'd eat the snakes that kill you? Or the mice who steal your food?”

“Oh! you're so right about that!” I said thoughtfully.

“Rats, too, and lizards that eat your garden raw. And we love spiders; we can never understand why you're so scared of them.”

“Well, yeah. They bite!” I said.

“Not if you eat them first,” she smirked.

Our friendship is still going strong. By now, I know most of her intimate secrets, so she mostly talks about her day. Sometimes, we discuss owl-like-looking people, which becomes a fun subject for comparing mental notes. We take turns mentioning a person who looks like an owl and try to guess whether that person could have been a bird of prey in a past life.

Or even in this one, and they are just disguising themselves to look human.

We had fantastic amounts of fun with that one. Then, when I look them up on the web to compare, we laugh like crazy.

Charlie, the owl, a sunset, and me.

Life doesn't get much better than that.

She made me realise the magnificence and insignificance of being a human but living in her fields.

Engulfed in the desert's parched silence, I finally understood that humbling truth.