It’s Valentine’s week and I’m getting a little punny. No worries, though, it’s going to be owlright. If puns are your thing, stick with me. We’ll have a hoot together!
*hears the sound of stampeding feet exiting the blog*
What? Too much??
Okay, okay! Wait! Come back!
The real purpose of this post is to take a tip from some of my dear readers (SUCH smart folks!) and share a little about the wildlife on my property, as mentioned in About The Caffeinated Day Tripper. I get a lot of questions like, “Aren’t you terrified? Do you carry bear spray? How can a grown woman be afraid of pigs?” so, I thought, occasionally, as creatures stumble, trot and flap their way out of the forest, and into my life, I’d share the stories, and photos. It’s a sidestep from my usual day trip related postings but, hey, the people get what the people want here!
Yesterday morning, I awoke bleary-eyed from a heavily medicated slumber. I’ve had the flu
forever for over a week and took a coughing, sneezing, aching, stuffy-head, so you can sleep kind of medication (you know the one) to aid me in the process of recovery. I was chugging my daily extra-large coffee from the comfort of the sofa and intently listening to something captivating The Caffeinated Hubby was saying.
*Disclaimer: “Intently” may be an overstatement. I can’t remember quite what said captivating item was but, rest assured, that, if I had NOT been strung out on the devil’s cold & flu elixir, I would definitely have been paying absolute rapt attention to his every word. I am nothing, if not an AMAZING listener. His stories are nothing, if not spell-binding. Truly.
Despite this unfailing attention to every compelling detail, my eyes strayed…merely momentarily…to the window, behind him:
Instantly I thought, bees nest. Because I am also nothing, if not observant and quick-witted. I blinked a time or two, rubbed some sleep-goop from my eyes and wheezed out, “Wait, that’s no bees nest. Is that an owl?”
Indeed, friends, it was an owl; napping in the sun, in a pine, outside my very own window.
Being the attentive, conscientious, wife that I am, I naturally jumped up and ran off for my camera chanting, “Don’t you go anywhere, Mr. Owl!” over and over like a wildlife-worshiping Gregorian monk. I took the stairs, two at a time, swiped my handy-dandy Nikon off the desk and was in the window, snapping picture after picture, for the next five minutes.
And, all the while, The Caffeinated Hubby humored me; nodding, agreeably, in all the right places, responding to my gasps of, “Did you see him move? Shhh! Don’t scare him! Why won’t this damned camera work? Fix it!!!”
When our own feathered cupid was frightened off by an avalanche of snow, falling from a limb above, we watched, together, as he glided back into the shelter of the forest.
Turns out…conversation isn’t what you need anyway.
Owl you need is love.