Oliver The Owl

Okay I’m back home at Casa Claire and trying to prioritize my roll out of my adventures back east.

I have to drop my wife off for a meeting at 6 am so I have to make this quick.

While the readings and reunions were a central part of the trip, and so much fun, top billing on a essential soul building level goes to the rescue, rehabilitation and repatriation of a beautiful young owl named Oliver.

Friday morning my youngest son Mark, with whom(along with his lovely wife Sara) I was staying in Warwick NY, suggested we go for breakfast in the Village.

Now Warwick is a beautiful and quaint little hamlet among the Catskills.

https://hudsonvalleystylemagazine.com/a-hidden-gem-in-warwick-ny-a-luxurious-airbnb-retreat-amidst-natures-beauty/#:~:text=Warwick,%20NY,%20with%20its%20serene%20ambiance,%20offers%20a%20contrast%20to

So all of the roads are two laned, rolling and winding. Most roads are bordered by lush fields or thick woods.

Well as we were riding along a stretch of the wood bordered road, I spotted a large pile of disoriented feathers just off center of the middle of the road around a bend and while offering my usual silent blessing to another dead animal, saw these feathers move.

I yelled for Mark to let me out and opened the door of the still moving pick-up truck. Mark did a real cool stop that cut off traffic in both directions as I ran back waving my arms frantically at the truck coming up behind us.

When I reached the creature, I wasn’t sure what to do, so I scooped it up like a would a child and pinned it to my chest. The I ran back to the truck and slid back into the shotgun seat.

Whatever I was holding felt dead.

It wasn’t moving. I couldn’t even feel it breathing.

“What are you going to do with that?” Mark asked.

“Let’s take it back to your place.”

“With the dogs?”

Okay, maybe I didn’t think it through.

Mark, as all good McCaffrey men do, immediately sought counsel from a McCaffrey female, and called his wife, Sara.

Now I was holding this large, limp bird and whispering to it that it must not be dead, and did all I could to inject it with whatever life force I possessed and could share.

Suddenly I felt its large taloned feet stir. One of those talons was brushing very close to my chest, so I held it aloft. Yes, the feet were stirring, but the head and body remained limp.

“Let’s wrap it up, swaddle style.” Mark said, and reached for a random pillowcase in the back seat.

I held the bird while Mark carefully wrapped its wings and body in a cloth cocoon.

Then I hugged it again and whispered that it had to recover or my son would never let me hear the end of it.

Suddenly, it raised its head just a little and Mark snapped a photo. He told me its eyes were still closed. The movement brought a smile to my face.

I took that as a positive sign because I knew Mark could not now make fun of me and while it nestled its head into my shoulder, I started searching for local vets we could take it to.

By now its eyes were open,

and Sara called back with the address for a local rescue organization run out of a home.

So off we went.

Everything is close as the Owl flies but not as you drive the winding roads, but soon we arrived at the location.

Mark hopped out to vet the person, and satisfied that she wasn’t just a budding taxidermist, we took Oliver – yes, I name him/her – inside, and allowed Anna to assess him/her.

She identified Oliver as a adolescent Barred Owl.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barred_owl#:~:text=The%20barred%20owl%20(Strix%20varia),%20also%20known%20as%20the%20northern#:~:text=The%20barred%20owl%20(Strix%20varia),%20also%20known%20as%20the%20northern

and, after slipping on some safety gloves, took a closer look and then placed him/her safely in a protective container.

He/She seemed to be calm and I felt he/she was with the right person.

After a brief tour of some of the other inhabitants of her rehab home, including an albino squirrel and a really cool fox named Honey,

I said my goodbyes to Oliver, left Anna a donation for his/her care and left.

But since Oliver had touched my heart I stayed in touch, and at first repatriation seemed a little iffy. It seems Oliver had a weight issue.

And after another day with Anna, with lots of prayers, he/she rebounded.

I was thrilled. Oliver would be free to soar among the beautiful forests and grow old as the magical creature –

https://www.learnreligions.com/legends-and-lore-of-owls-2562495#:~:text=Owls%20are%20a%20bird%20that%20features%20prominently%20in%20the%20myths#:~:text=Owls%20are%20a%20bird%20that%20features%20prominently%20in%20the%20myth

https://www.spiralnature.com/shiny/global-folklore-the-magickal-power-of-owls

https://scandification.com/owls-in-norse-mythology

– that he/she was meant to be.

Later, Anna sent me a post release photo of Oliver in his/her new habitat.

He/She’s actually glowing.

One really lucky Owl. And I am one really blessed Irishman.

So yes, what I did was impulsive, not carefully thought through, and even a bit foolhardy. But I would do it again in a heartbeat, because sharing a role in saving this precious creature gave me such joie de vivre. It let me step back away from the self-centered reasons I had come back east, and reminded me why I had written the books in the first place. Because the world is a magical place if you just make the time to see it.

Well, I need to head out. Things to do.

Kitties to cuddle and rounds to make.

Magic to see.

You fine, five readers, have that last cuppa jo and attack the hump.

Watch for Friday, and for magic.

And whatever else we get up to, let’s make today a great one