AND OWL.
Yesterday at work I saw something very unusual.
An owl, a gigantic owl, somehow got stuck in one of the soccer nets. By the time I got to see her, she had been freed (thanks to Jim getting in her face and freaking her out while someone else cut the net), but instead of flying away, as owls do, she just kinda sat in front of the net.
As Mike said, best goalie ever at High Meadow.
Anyway, she stared at the small multitude of people who stared back at her, her full-moon yellow eyes blinking one at a time and considering all the small children who walked behind her and the net on the way to arts and crafts or whatever. We were pretty sure she was gonna catch one of the NKers (the 4- and 5-year-olds) in her decidedly long talons and eat them.
So we called some owl lady in and just watched the thing until she got there with her cage and her gloves and her blanket. She told us that the goalie was a great horned owl and a hatchling who probably got caught in the net her frist time out hunting by herself.
A hatchling.
This thing was probably two feet wide and two-and-a-half feet tall just sitting there. I'm pretty sure we have 3rd graders smaller than this thing.
So the owl lady (who wore a t-shirt with a huge picture of an owl face on it and who probably paints small figurines in her spare time) told us to surround the owl and distract her while she threw a blanket over her head.
Yes, let's surround the pissed off, cornered, possibly-injured owl who's out of her element (this being daytime and all). That seems like a brilliant idea.
So a bunch of them (not I) surrounded the owl and tried to distract her while the crazy owl lady attempted to cover her with what looked like a bedsheet stolen from the nearest Best Western. Predictably, the owl reared up on her feet, puffed up her feathers and started to spread out her wings. She also clicked her beak a bunch of times at the owl lady and backed away. Believe me, if this woman was coming at you, you'd click your beak too.
Then, at the end of her rope, she took off. At me.
Seven feet of sharp nocturnal death flying at my face.
I jumped out of the way and she flew up into a tree. The owl lady still wanted her so Lee and Jim and some other guys shook the tree for a while, but she just flew across the field into the woods.
What did I take away from this once-in-a-lifetime spectacle?
I kind of want to be a crazy owl lady too.
An owl, a gigantic owl, somehow got stuck in one of the soccer nets. By the time I got to see her, she had been freed (thanks to Jim getting in her face and freaking her out while someone else cut the net), but instead of flying away, as owls do, she just kinda sat in front of the net.
As Mike said, best goalie ever at High Meadow.
Anyway, she stared at the small multitude of people who stared back at her, her full-moon yellow eyes blinking one at a time and considering all the small children who walked behind her and the net on the way to arts and crafts or whatever. We were pretty sure she was gonna catch one of the NKers (the 4- and 5-year-olds) in her decidedly long talons and eat them.
So we called some owl lady in and just watched the thing until she got there with her cage and her gloves and her blanket. She told us that the goalie was a great horned owl and a hatchling who probably got caught in the net her frist time out hunting by herself.
A hatchling.
This thing was probably two feet wide and two-and-a-half feet tall just sitting there. I'm pretty sure we have 3rd graders smaller than this thing.
So the owl lady (who wore a t-shirt with a huge picture of an owl face on it and who probably paints small figurines in her spare time) told us to surround the owl and distract her while she threw a blanket over her head.
Yes, let's surround the pissed off, cornered, possibly-injured owl who's out of her element (this being daytime and all). That seems like a brilliant idea.
So a bunch of them (not I) surrounded the owl and tried to distract her while the crazy owl lady attempted to cover her with what looked like a bedsheet stolen from the nearest Best Western. Predictably, the owl reared up on her feet, puffed up her feathers and started to spread out her wings. She also clicked her beak a bunch of times at the owl lady and backed away. Believe me, if this woman was coming at you, you'd click your beak too.
Then, at the end of her rope, she took off. At me.
Seven feet of sharp nocturnal death flying at my face.
I jumped out of the way and she flew up into a tree. The owl lady still wanted her so Lee and Jim and some other guys shook the tree for a while, but she just flew across the field into the woods.
What did I take away from this once-in-a-lifetime spectacle?
I kind of want to be a crazy owl lady too.