Gibson Flats
Minneapolis :: A couple of months ago my wife heard an owl while she walked our dog near the Mississippi River. When they got home, she was excited and hoped next time she might even see it. More recently we walked him together and ended up in the same area. Just as I was telling her that it would have been my mother’s birthday, she touched my shoulder and suddenly an owl burst out of the trees from the river bluffs. A crow and a falcon dive bombed it and the three of them wrestled mid-flight directly overhead and landed forty feet up a pine tree close to where we were stood. After ten minutes hassling the owl, the crow and falcon gave up, flew out of the tree, picked on each other briefly and disappeared north into the river gorge. The owl perched silently until my wife began to hoot.
Great Falls :: The following fall I was in my hometown for a few days. The day before I returned to Minnesota, I drove to Highland Cemetery on the edge of town to visit the family plot. Whenever I visit the cemetery, I always pay my respects to Charlie Russell’s grave too which is nearby. As I walked, I heard a noise in the distance which slowly grew closer, louder and ended high in an enormous pine tree not far from where I stood. I assumed it was a bird, but it was oddly loud which made it alarming. Any noise in a cemetery, as slight as it may be, is unsettling. It might be a ghost, or a corpse clawing its way out of the ground then levitating towards me like a vampire.
I stared into the trees where the sound ended. If I hadn’t heard it and searched for the location of the noise, I never would have seen it. It was hard to tell what kind of bird it was because it blended in with the enormous pine trees. I grabbed my phone and zoomed in on it with the camera. It was still murky and hard to distinguish, but once its’ head rotated in that distinct way, I realized it was an owl. We stared at each other for ten minutes before it flew south towards the mountains.
Dutton :: The next day I ate breakfast with my sister, packed my gear, and began the long drive home. I looked forward to this leg of the trip because I planned to take Interstate 15 North to Dutton and then east along the hi-line. I hadn’t driven this route in decades. I was anxious to stop in Dutton because my dad’s firm designed a church there in the 1960’s. I’d only seen photos of it and read articles about it. It had won numerous AIA awards, and I’d admired it since I was in grade school. The shape of the building felt a bit radical for this small farm community located in the middle of the wheat country. While the design was contemporary and forward looking, it also reflected the vernacular of barns and other agricultural buildings.
I leaned against the car in front of the church, with the doors and rear hatch wide open and ate a snack. After a while I noticed a dark shape underneath the shaded eave high up on the eastern wall. It looked like something was on the downspout. I walked closer and saw the head of an owl rotate towards me. It was big. I looked closer and noticed a second owl on the other gutter downspout. I couldn’t believe I was seeing two more owls in less than twenty-four hours for a total of three.
All these sightings felt specific and personal, like messengers from the other side during challenging times—breaking through and keeping watch. When I googled owl symbolism, the information was a little dark. Most of it focused on death, but I read further, and it explained that death means more than ‘the end’, it also means transition and change—from one thing to another thing, maybe even from one time and space to another time and space. They’re often invisible but lately I’d seen and heard them arrive.
Songs :: More Than This by Roxy Music, Journey Through The Past by Neil Young, and Don’t Give Up by Peter Gabriel
© C. Davidson