Spring time in Golden Gate Park
Tiptoe through the tide pool
Brown pelican in the Pacific
My St. Thomas snowy. Old faithful, she was sitting in the same tree.
Carolyn: Whoa, I thought that was a real bird for a second.
John: It’s a kite.
C: I’d say it’s more of a falcon.
C: … Because a kite is also a type of bird
J: … I don’t like the new you.
My first Snowy Owl.
While we’ve been having an irruption year in Ontario, I have been actively hunting for an owl since December. I was getting increasingly frustrated and disappointed, but also worried I wouldn’t see one at all this year. It was even on my list of goals for the year.
I was so convinced I’d see one in Windsor this weekend. I drove slowly the entire way there looking left and right constantly (and occasionally at the road). I even stopped and turned around at one point, only to be fooled by a plastic bag in a tree. On the way home I knew I was going to stop at the St. Thomas airport. As I was approaching, I saw something white in a tree in a distant field. I pulled off at the next road, whipped out my binoculars and camera. I was still to far to tell for certain what it was, so I doubled back, parked in a trucking lot, and ran through their ice-covered field.
I started to cry when I knew it was a Snowy.
Since my grandfather died, I’ve gotten a few Snowy Owl items from him. First was a birthday card he had picked out. For my graduation, my grandmother gave me a beautiful Snowy figurine that my grandfather had bought and loved. Chasing this Snowy Owl was so important to me as it has become a symbol of him.
Finding it was the singular happiest moment of my life.