Trickster

There seems to be something in the air each year about this time that makes me want to fill up a brand new sketchbook. I bought a leather bound hand-made-paper journal a while back for some photography and thought it was time to break it open and fill it up. I really wanted it to have a theme and I settled upon an entire sketchbook of psychopomps. 

“Listen to the whispers of the owl, for they carry ancient secrets of the night.” – Anonymous

Owls being psychopomps and me only having one page drawn in this wonderful book I figured I would tell you a little bit about my own owl experience that occured just last year.

“Quand le hibou chante, La nuit est silence”. ― Charles de Leusse

Of all the birds owls have become very near and dear to my heart. Largely due to my, all too infrequent, adventures photographing wildlife. In all my outdoor adventures I have actually seen very few of these wonderful creations. Each encounter is quite memorable.

This tricky owl came to me last year when I was out photographing flowers and trees along the San Antonio river. I was very frustrated that morning because all the locations I thought would be brilliantly lit by the sunrise just were not. All the locations I previously scouted were just not happening. I was ready to call it a morning and head back to the studio when I had the strangest sensation of being watched. It was a public area so the idea that I might stumble upon another person early on a Saturday morning was not impossible but this was something else. I had the profound sense of a presence that was not just watching me but one that was enveloping me. I felt that everywhere I looked in the brush or trees held a presence that was watching me. I became nervous as it felt as if the presence was drawing closer. I would liken it to the feeling of a large animal predator progressively circling in for the kill. For me, the prey, I was running out of places to run as it seemed the presence was closing in all around me. 

“Sometimes an owl is just an owl.” ― Mark Frost, The Secret History of Twin Peaks

I became aware of the lack of any birds or insects. It was completely silent, so much so I stepped on a fallen twig just to hear it break. I wanted to make sure I had not somehow suffered temporary deafness. Sure enough the twig snapped and I immediately jumped a little inside, the presence felt even closer now and it was communicating with me in some strange way that let me know it was amused. In my head I could hear laughter and to be clear the predator was laughing at me. 

I decided to drop my camera bag and tripod on the bank of the river and get a bit more serious about looking around. After all I might have to defend myself. As I frantically looked around I suddenly had the notion to look straight up. There just about 6 feet from my head was a beautiful barred owl. We locked gazes and instantly the sound of laughter in my head became even more intense. I could not help but to exhale a mighty sigh of relief that my predator was above me and clearly communicating how amused it was as it played with my senses. I pulled out my camera, sure it would fly off before I could get a shot in the dim light of the woods by the river. To my surprise the owl decided that I could take as many shots as I wanted. While the laughter in my head (thankfully) subsided I had a profound understanding enter into my head. I credit the owl but hey, who knows. 

“You will find what you want most when you stop looking for it and realize what you most want was always with you.” 

I could not help but chuckle a little at my good fortune and then another thought entered my head quite loudly. 

“And now you are stuck with me.”

Still trying to figure that one out. Though there are those pre-dawn writing sessions on my patio where I swear that owl is out there. Out there and laughing at me again as I peer into the darkness and see nothing. 

“In their previous lives, poets were bats, and thinkers were owls.” ― Michael Bassey Johnson, Song of a Nature Lover