On owl medicine - Lorca Smetana

Came out to close in the birds and found myself standing in the dark below the great horned owl perched up on the chicken coop. She was staring straight across at the open landing platform of the white homing pigeon loft. The coop was open as well and owls don’t tend to wait for your invitation. She had taken several of our young racing pigeons a week back, waited until they flew up high and grabbed them from above through the more open wire mesh of one of the other loft aviaries. It was the first time we’d lost any that way. Normally having owls rather helps us, scaring away predatory local falcons.

I close the loft, the coop, her tufted head swiveling to watch me working quietly just a few feet below her. “These are not the droids you are looking for,” I tell her, and silently, she is gone.

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