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In many Indigenous cultures, such as the Lakota Oyate, owls are omens warning a person to be aware of things to come. Many people take the owl as a messenger from bad spirits. Others accept the owl as just another neighbor, trying to make its way in the world like anyone else. Still others think of owls as a nuisance and a threat to their cats.

I think owls are beautiful. They possess a quiet presence, although the owl in my tree talks quite a bit. I did not find the owl pictured here; my neighbor pointed her out. I do not know if it is a male or female, but I will refer to it as her. She sat on the branch, perched high above the roof of my house, rotating her head to view the world below. I ran to my basement apartment to retrieve my camera. When I positioned myself for the shot, I discovered my battery was too low. I had to run down and get a new battery. When I came back up a second time, I realized I needed a new SD card. I ran down a third time thinking the owl in my tree would certainly fly off, and I was disappointed that the sun’s constantly shifting position meant every second was a lost shot. I already missed the spotlight that helped my neighbor see the owl in the first place. I felt like I was racing against the darkness as the lighting opportunities for the shot descended in the waning evening.

Post-COVID shut-down, maybe I read more into an owl’s regal rule over its residential territory than I should, but this scene and my bumbling rush to capture it feels perpetually familiar, and I am compelled to analyze the owl’s presence in the same way I analyze a short story.

Here we have an owl, a predator, perched regally in the tree that does not belong to me, but happens to grow on the edge of the land where a house was built. In the house, I rent a basement apartment. I am burrowed in the ground half of the time, and the owl is perched on the tall branches of surrounding trees. I look up to patches of sky, and she looks down to patches of ground. This owl sees people moving from door to door, walking, running, lounging across the land, and we people hear the owls more than we see them. When we see one, we tell each other, point, take pictures, marvel at how well she blends with her environment, how calm and still she is, how she spins her head and looks directly at me or the neighbor, and then looks off into an unknown distance at some other interesting oddity.

I recently visited my Aunt Deedee, who hears the world through one ear and who has lived through a brain tumor and an aneurism and is still sharp and keenly observant. She attributes her uncanny attention to the breadth of her environment to her lost hearing. She has to pay attention to facial expressions and body language. She is not just listening with her ears, she is listening to the whole person, and not only one person, but to all the people in a room. Like the owl, she pans the environment, and she sits quietly until she has something to say, and then she speaks, and people listen, whether they want to or not.

I do not take this owl, who lives behind the house that is partly mine for a time, as a messenger of bad things to come. She, like my aunt, reminds me that I need to listen and notice more. I need to master the ability to blend with my surroundings, and I need to be patient.

I camouflage myself if I do not understand the environment, and often I reveal myself before I understand the context in which I am operating.

I needed this reminder. Careful observation, patience, and understanding the environment in which I must operate will help me live more harmoniously. My purposes are quite different from the owl in my tree. I am not preying upon small animals for survival. I don’t live in the trees, or soar above them. This past year and the year to come, I have been and am a burrower: burrowed into my basement apartment, burrowed into books, essays, Facebook, and Roku networks.  I have not taken the time to look up and out like I should. I have been impatient to get done, and too often, I forget to enjoy the doing.

Perhaps the wisdom of owls we honor in nursery rhymes and mythology comes from a person like me, who through observation of the owl’s quiet post on a tree branch, reflected on the nature of the owl’s presence, interpreted its behavior in human terms, and decided the owl has something to teach us humans, who like to rush about, and may seem to the owl as aimless as a spattering of ants on the sidewalk may seem to me.

I can’t help but believe that our relationships all have meaning and that we can shape that meaning to suit us, help us, or hinder us. I know that the brief and one-sided relationship I had with the owl will stay with me. I will think of the owl and my Aunt Deedee, and their habit of quiet observance will remind me to be still and listen to the whole of my surroundings so that I might learn a bit more than I would otherwise.