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 back and swallowed the mouse whole. It cleaned its beak on the branch, sat for a bit longer, then flew away. 

Owls have a place in First Nations tradition as being associated with death and the afterlife. Maybe it was a visitation, but probably it was just an owl doing what owls do. But maybe…  Who am I to say definitely one or the other? On one level it was a remarkable encounter with a majestic bird that I sometimes hear, but rarely see. On another level, I said "Hi Dad" and it was a beautiful moment amongst my grief.