By Barbara Jorgen Nance

Owls took their place in the Gallery of Important Birds for me long before I moved to New Mexico. I have a history with owls that goes back to my Dad and my early days of carving stone.

Some 35 or more years ago I started carving owls and perched them each on twisted limbs of sturdy Tennessee Sassafras limbs.

These trees were in strong competition with the thick vines that surrounded them. So throughout the years of a young tree's growth, the vines wrapped around them, virtually strangling them and causing the trees to grow in a spiral. The results were interestingly beautiful tree limbs that only Mother Nature could sculpt.

Dad liked to help me figure out solutions to mounting a heavy stone sculpture hanging out on a limb. I learned a lot from Dad. He liked to help me figure out the amount of lead we'd need to melt and add to the stone base that that held a limb that hung out at so many degrees on an angle that could support the weight of the heavy stone owl. I'm keeping the last small owl we worked on together on display @ Stonewalker Studio.

I have a desire to re-visit that process and re-connect with my owl art. Perhaps because of our visiting pair of Great Horned owls that seem to have adopted us. Mostly, they're on our rooftop chattering at length. It's a Hoot just to listen to the owl couple hoot back and forth. One can only imagine what these illusive, secretive birds are discussing. Gossip, small talk or just a comforting Hoot?

I was surprised the other morning to wake up and hear them right outside my bedroom window. I peeked just in time to see them fly off from our fence. I keep attaching branches to our chain link fence so birds will stop by. Guess that's paid off.

Later on that morning, my husband pointed out the owl to me that was perched in a tree behind our house. Rarely are owls that visible in full daylight. He must believe he's fully camouflaged. The owl does blend in well to his guardian tree trunk and its bark. His eyes are closed, feathers flattened down and tufts raised. This hiding way of perching is known as cryptic posture. I observed him for a time through binoculars. Perhaps this wise owl knows I'm watching him and he's curious in return? Hmmm?

GǣA wise owl lived in an oak; the more he saw, the less he spoke;
The less he spoke, the more he heard; why can't we all be like that bird?Gǥ
'Edward Hersey Richards

What a hoot!                        Ponder on.