First Burrowing Owl Encounter

On the day I left the lowlands to spend two decades living, working, and playing at much higher altitudes, I stopped at the Prairie Dog Town Fork bridge to have lunch and daydream of future potentials. The spot was a favorite for lingering when out that way, no matter the weather conditions. A prairie dog town there usually provided a sighting or two of the little creatures which were always a delight to see. And I never encountered another humanbeing there, ever.

Besides, a hulking thunderstorm was cruising from southwest to northeast right across my northwesterly path ahead. It seemed like a good idea to experience it from afar. It was dark enough and tinted just green enough to possibly be hail heavy. A storm well worth avoiding.

Munching on a chicken leg, a chunk of fresh, well-buttered sourdough, and sipping iced tea from a quart jar, I focused on the food and daydreams until a head popped up from a borrow. It wasn't the expected head of a prairie dog, though. At first I wasn't sure what it was. lt turned its head this way and that then locked its big, brooding eyes with mine. A little owl.

I had seen burrowing owls on wildlife documentary films but never in real life. The owl disappeared into the burrow, then emerged again, watching me where I had parked just across the highway. I wondered what it was wondering. Was it aware of the storm rumbling in the distance? Was it offended by my presence? Did it hope I would leave soon?

Gnawing on the chickenleg bone, I decided it was as okay with the situation as I was. It eventually came all the way up out of the burrow and watched the storm, too. We were both glad not to be beneath it, happy and content with the way things were panning out for us all around.