New Life

         As Spring is in full bloom, I’m feeling heady and elated.  When God closes a door, somehow he manages to leave one window open.  Sure someone stole my Burr Oak, but my Flame Acanthus is alive!  It was a miracle when I discovered that it had survived winter.  Nature is full of surprises.  The Black-chinned hummingbirds are back in my area.  They are so fun to watch.  It’s difficult for me to imagine their flight to Mexico.  When a bird migrates, it requires 7 to 15 times more energy than usual.  If you think you can run a 4 minute mile nonstop for 80 hours, then you have what it takes to migrate.

     I probably overuse the word migrate.  It’s only because I like it so much.

         After clocking out at work, I will look at my coworkers, “I’m gonna migrate home.”

        Occasionally at Kroger, I’ll encounter a confused shopper. After a lengthy discussion I’ll make a recommendation, “You should really migrate to the salt aisle.”

        On a date, when I describe my history, “Yes, sometimes when I migrate I’m faking it.”

  Migrating aside, I’m loving how green it is.  The rain doesn’t even bother me.  This is the time of year to have a picnic or fly a kite.  I’m very fortunate to have a job that requires me to go outside and smell the honeysuckle or count the ants.  Today an adult wild Turkey came to the backdoor and tried to attack his reflection in the glass.  It was quite a sight to behold.  Turkeys are such odd looking birds.  This is their breeding season, so I’m sure he was out looking for the perfect female.  I wish him luck.

the Great Horned Owl

       Do you remember in the Secret of Nimh when Mrs. Brisby had to visit the great owl?  The owl’s eyes were lit up as if they were on fire.  He appeared on screen, as a massive bone crunching creature.  I was talking to my friend the other day on the phone. 

           “I’m afraid of owls,” she reluctantly admitted.

 Over the course of the discussion, we determined that the repeated watching of the Secret of Nimh as kids had created in us a fear of owls.

As of late, I’ve been hearing a Great Horned Owl in my neighborhood.  His visits seem to be once a week.  Of course, he is probably hunting for rabbits.  I am surrounded by edge habitat which rabbits prefer.  

        I find him to be enchanting.  

  One night, I heard a Northern Mockingbird announce his arrival.  The alarm call sounded sharp, metallic and shattered the silence. I climbed out of bed, put on my house shoes and glasses.  Suddenly, I could hear the owl.  His low pitched ho-ho-hoo-hoo was coming from the building across from me.  It was about 1 am.  The street light made my polar bear Christmas pajamas visible, but luckily there wasn’t a human around.  As I got closer, I saw him.  He was perched on the chimney, which was low enough to make his face and ear tufts visible.  His body was smaller than I remember from the Secret of Nimh.  He watched me.  I reciprocated.  The staring contest lasted for about 5 minutes, then he flew off.  

According to David Sibley’s The Sibley Guide to Bird Life and Behavior, “The acuity of avian eyesight is unparalleled among vertebrates.”  Try saying that sentence three times in quick succession.  It’s difficult.

        I learned over Christmas, to not talk about owls around my nephew. After mentioning the visits from the owl, he refused to go outside at night.  He was afraid.  DOH!

In conclusion, I really like the Great Horned Owl.  I think he is magnificent.

The Burr Oak That Got Away

            I have never been a big plant gal.  Historically, if you gave me a plant and waited a couple of weeks, then you could depend on me killing it.  It wasn’t until October 24th, in 2013 when I finally met a baby plant that I could love.  I was on a tree retreat and we were gazing upon a massive Burr Oak in Benbrook.  I looked down and saw a ginormous acorn roughly the size of a doll’s head.  It was remarkable.  I picked it up and put it in my pocket.  It looked like I was carrying a tennis ball in my pants.  When I got home, I watered it and put it in a pot.  Like an expectant mother, I waited.  On the balcony, I watched it slowly grow inch by inch.  Then one day, it was raining quite a bit so I moved it outside.  I kept it there and would check on it.  I was so proud.

          I really believe that there is something sacred about a plant in a pot, because it takes human hands to get there.  You can infer that someone cares about that plant, which is why I was so shocked when someone stole my Burr Oak.  I came home from work on January 8th, at the beginning of this year and saw it was gone.  I froze.  When I got past the denial stage, then I started screaming.  It felt like someone was pushing a blunt butter knife into my heart.  I still am very angry.  I have decided that I will never love a plant again.

          If I thought that posting signs around the neighborhood would help, I would do it.  Sometimes I daydream about who took him.  Was he a tall adolescent from the inner city that likes to spend hours playing Minecraft?  Was she a short, bossy Girl Scout currently enrolled in middle school who saw my plant and mistakenly decided she could provide him a better home?  I can tell you this.  I will never ever steal someone’s plant because I know how it feels.