Many years ago in my corporate experience, I agreed to a temporary assignment; an assignment I was told might last for six months (with travel home every two weeks). To go back and forth to Chicago’s O’Hare. I used a young man referred to me. His name was Wallace. His limo was an old Cadillac that needed shocks (like John Candy’s Mercury in Uncle Buck). Any judgment I might have had about the vehicle quickly evaporated in the experience of Wallace. In the very first ride to the airport, I came to enjoy the floating rhythm of the tired shocks and springs as they seemed to follow the ease of interaction with Wallace.
I vividly remember one snowy morning, waiting on Wallace to arrive, looking out the window to see that he had not only arrived, but was shoveling a path to my door in the Caddy. What service.
Encounters come in all shapes and sizes, human and critter. It seems the ones that say the most about something in my life are the seemingly most simple; requiring both my presence and my participation. Or maybe they simply engage in me something of the most important in life and living.
Grateful Creatures
On the trail, a man
releasing history, human.
As if he knew me
declaring, Your Mood is Saturn.
Stranger, touching my depression
encouraging relief ahead.
A kitty, orange
visiting me, while
I worked outside, and
purring his message
we became best friends.
I now carry his friendship
in how I see all creatures.
A bat, nocturnally curious,
down the stovepipe, now hopelessly trapped.
Now I, studying carefully
how to give it back to the air.
Free, one mammal to another
circling me from feet to head.
Mystery of participation,
even in momentary surprise
or the willing true engagement.
Gratitude swells within,
Thankfulness shared between,
creatures all, we are one.
As may be clear by now, I prefer daily walks to contain little human contact. But sometimes it just cannot be avoided. Recently was one of those times. I took one of my usual routes and, as I cornered, I saw the couple I would most definitely come close enough to that I would have to speak.
Everything Good
I said in my Southern politeness, “How’re ya’ll?” The man replied in a wonderful Hispanic rhythm, “Everything Good.” It was in the next several steps that I knew this would be the next essay.
It occurred to me that everything good can most likely be traced back to an encounter. For instance, eighteen months prior to writing this, I was appointed to the Board of Trustees of a community college—where I attended for two of my four years; and more years ago than I will record here. Being on this Board has been very good for me in my retirement. I am now a Trustee because of Marilyn. She lives in our neighborhood and her husband was our realtor when moving back home. While house hunting, we got to know her better. My first encounter with her was when she and I spoke at my niece Molly’s funeral service (Molly, at the time of her passing, was the longest living liver transplant recipient alive in the world). Marilyn spoke at the service to share her gratitude to Molly. When Marilyn’s brother was dying from cancer, Molly had been a spiritual encounter for him.
On weekend walks I often walk on an access road behind the elementary schools. I really like this route for the wildlife. One morning, as I began the trek down this road, I saw a pickup truck parked in one lane, a young man standing in the bed. Getting closer I could tell he was peering through a nice camera and video equipment. I spoke saying what a great place to birdwatch. He said, “Let me show you something.” On his iPad was this amazing video. It was a Great Horned Owl, its back to the lens. He said, “Wait for it.” Just then the Owl pivoted that head around and there were those big, beautiful sunshine yellow eyes!
I thanked him for showing me the Owl. Sensing my love of nature, he shared a wonderful tool with me; Cornell Lab of Ornithology’s Merlin Bird ID app. Now as I walk, and hear a bird I don’t recognize, I open the app and it identifies each bird call around me. Living in an area on many species migration path, this has been very enjoyable.
Great Encounter
Fast forward many months to another walk. This time I was cutting across one of our park department’s soccer fields. As I neared the backstop net at the end of that field, I saw something dark at the bottom. It look liked a patch of leaves. When in focus, my heart sank. It was a Great Horned Owl. It was alive, but was hopelessly caught around both legs and one wing. It didn’t seem to be injured, but definitely trapped. The net, being black and difficult to even see in the daylight, had probably snared her as she hunted in the dark. I immediately got on the phone with our game and fish agency. Unfortunately, the officers serving our area were out of town traveling to a district meeting. I was not at all happy.
By this time my phone was low on power. I called my wife to come over so I could get a charge from her car. I needed my phone in case the person at the game and fish agency called me back with some sort of assistance. This never happened.
As my wife made her way to me, she contacted our daughter, who being a lover of all living creatures, left work and brought me gloves and scissors. It took a while, but I very carefully began at her feet, pulled netting away and clipped piece by piece. I finally freed the Owl enough for her to walk away in some brush. I marked the spot for the game officers to find. By this time, I was texting with the contact at the agency. I sent a pic of the mark of her location, and asked him to follow up and let me know what they found. I never heard anything.
Suffice it to say that I worried for the next few days. I would walk to where she had entered the brush and look and listen. And even look for feathers and such—there is a fox that patrols this area; not to mention the occasional coyote. In those few days of checking, I did not see evidence of what I feared. My wife comforted me and assured me that she was safe.
The next few days I awoke very early, so I would head out on my walk in the dark. I was walking along a path that is about eighty yards from that brush where she disappeared. I heard a very strange call. I pulled up the Merlin Bird ID app. I assumed it was either too far away, or not a bird call as it did not register anything. Then a few days later, along that same path in the trees, I heard it again—the same call, but this time in the trees right above me. Once again I employed the app. Bingo! It was a bird; a female Great Horned Owl!
That’s not all. As I continued along, she did too, from tree to tree calling out. This went on for about two hundred yards. I know it was my Owl, and she was thanking me.
Notes & Influences:
Hughes, John. 1989. Uncle Buck. Universal Pictures.
Cornell Lab of Ornithology, Merlin Bird ID. https://merlin.allaboutbirds.org
