I’m not alone.
Tuesday, when I went to leave for work, there was this woman parked at the top of one side our driveway. she had gotten out and was standing in the road taking pictures with her camera phone. When I spotted her, she apologized and babbled out in pretty much the same high pitched tone I’m quite familiar with
OWL STALKER: I’m so sorry but there’s this Owl and he has a rabbit and I got out to take a picture for my three year old in the car and then I spotted this owl and I’m trying to get a picture and I know you think I’m crazy but I want my little girl to see it so I’m taking a picture…
I parked my car at the other end of the driveway, got out and gave her the history of Owl, where the nest was, how awesome they were, that they’d apparently been here for years because we'd found cave paintings in our basement. She was suitable impressed. I was late for work but I was thrilled that someone was a goofy about Owl as I was.
Yesterday, I spotted her trolling the street much like I was trolling my yard for an Owl sighting. Because she was shy to pull into the driveway again and I was unwashed, un-brushed and in my comfies, I didn’t wave her in for a viewing and she missed the routine she apparently interrupted on Tuesday. An Owl family morning goes like this: Owl catches breakfast. After making sure it’s dead and he’s not being followed, he calls out softly from a branch across the street from the nest “Who cooks for you?” and lets Mrs. Owl know he’s outside with breakfast. She flies over to the branch to meet him. They talk quietly away from the nest about how the day is going - what the kids are up to, how busy it was at the grocery store, the crazy lady with the camera stalking me - he gives her the dead beastie and then she flies back to the nest.
This morning, I watched the two kids from last year, Larry and Moe, out window-shopping for food. Moe flew off to The Mayor of our street’s yard while Larry hung out on a branch above the nest for a bit. Suddenly, he flew- jumped down onto breakfast. I took off out the door, camera in hand for a closer look. Sadly, the crazy lady in her comfies heading straight up the hill with a camera put him off getting the meal ready so he left it and flew up to the tree above the road, where he sat for a bit letting me take a few shots while shooting me dirty glances. When I sat down in the driveway so the cars driving by didn’t get a full look at my crazy hair and unwashed self, he went down for breakfast he’d dropped. He was quite pissed when I stood up and started shooting again. Up into the tree he went again. I finally went back into the house and watched from the window as he picked up his now cold very dead meal and delivered it to the nest.
I have never every understood how Uncle sits in the cold wet mornings and takes pictures of birds until now. Though he would be the first to point out to me that he’s showered and washed himself before he leaves the house. I assume, that way people aren’t pointing and laughing and taking pictures of him standing in the driveway unwashed with high bed hair, fuzzy teeth and bedroom slippers.
I must remember that for tomorrow…