Last night, it plummeted from the sky and performed a small hop. I had never seen an owl in the wild before. It was large, the size of a toddler, and fluffy. It was pale in the headlights, grey, tan, or white … I could not tell. It was after something, a mouse or rat, I suspect. Perhaps a prairie dog? I was driving past and could not stop to see. I was on my way to dance in Santa Fe. No time for night time predation.
Many have considered them to be birds of ill omen. It is mentioned in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. I have heard that many of the local tribes will not hunt if one is spotted.
It was beautiful in its silent savagery. And for the first time, I could understand the way that men fear them.
At the bar, I danced for joy. I danced for life. But others around me had other intentions. I watched men and women stalk each other. Almost as fascinating as the owl, but not as rare in my personal experience.