When is an owl just an owl?
Recently, my dad suffered a hemorrhagic stroke. After a family bedside vigil of several days, dad passed away in the early morning hours with my sister at his side. Later that week, the small church we attend had “Wild Church”; an informal gathering at Kingfisher Farm which is co-owned by a group of families, many of whom attend our church. It had been a busy week with a number of family meetings and details to attend to, so I went for a walk on a trail around the farm property to reflect on dad’s death, and allow room to grieve. As I walked the perimeter of the property, a large bird flew up from the trail ahead of me and landed in a branch over the trail. It was a barred owl, and had its back to me as it began to eat a mouse it had just caught. I took a couple of steps to get closer, the owl turned to look at me. I took a couple more steps, the owl turned to look… I watched as the owl eviserated the mouse, dropped the innards to the ground, put its head ...