An English In Kentucky


















January 14th 2011    Tim Candler

    I think his feathers where too white for a Barred Owl.  Nor does a Barred Owl have fourteen foot of wing.  And I am about ten years older.

    We have seen sign of something big in the barn.  I always thought this something had a beak.  And then there are those white feathers that always gather just before Barn Swallows arrive.  I can usually find these feathers in about the same place, near the mowing decks.  A strange confluence of Springtime energies.  A harbinger to accept rather than attempt to understand because madness lies that way.

    The thing about an Owl is how quietly he can fly.  His feathers are designed for stealth and sneakiness when he is  moody or  in pursuit of little creatures to eat.

    And if you happen to be occupied, busy with something, working up the courage to perhaps exercise a little.  Or at least appear useful in this fine weather.  The sight of a large white Owl, in confined space, suddenly flapping around your head, actually puts the fear of god into you.

      It sends you running home with stories no one believes.

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