Embracing the Owl: A Journey of Connection and Learning

With mock shock plastered across my face, I looked at G and exclaimed, "I can't believe you stole an owl’s private diary!"

She looked up at me, confused. "I didn't! It's from the library… not from an actual owl."

I gasped dramatically, "So you stole it from an owl who lives in the library?"

Her exasperated sigh told me she knew I was joking around.

Still pretending to be astounded, I asked her to read a page. As she read aloud, I nodded seriously. "That’s impressive. I can’t read a word of it myself. I only speak Chickadee." Demonstrating, I chirped a series of nonsensical bird calls. G laughed, shaking her head. "No! I do not speak Owl."

But I wasn’t convinced. "We’ll have to put you to the test when we get back to the cabin."

As we walked, the jokes continued. I tucked one of my fingers into my glove and gasped. "Oh no! My finger! It’s gone!"

G’s eyes widened before she caught on. She grinned and pulled my glove off to reveal my hidden finger.

I nodded approvingly. "You see through illusions, just like an owl. Another test passed."

The snowy path crunched under our boots as I asked her an important question. "Do you like eating meat?"

G hesitated, then admitted, "I like chicken nuggets."

I gasped. "Another test passed! Owls eat meat, after all."

By the time we reached the Earth Path cabin, the air was thick with anticipation. Inside, I gathered my supplies: birdseed, two candles, and a mysterious hat. The children followed me into a small, round fort made of wooden pallets, its walls lined with neatly stacked firewood and roof made of thatched grass. In the flickering candlelight, I carefully arranged a whimsical altar before them. With slow, deliberate movements, I struck a match, lighting the candles until their glow danced across the wooden walls.

Holding one piece of birdseed in each palm, I raised my hands. "Silence," I whispered. "The magic is about to begin."

I transferred a seed from one hand to the other, then extended both toward G. "Choose," I said with reverence.

She hesitated, then pointed to my right hand - the one with two seeds.

A slow smile spread across my face and I opened my palm, revealing the two seeds. "You’ve chosen wisely," I said. "You have the energy and magic of an owl."

G listened as I explained that owls may be solitary, but their bond with the world runs deep. "The two seeds represent that connection, just as an owl’s talons come in pairs. Had you chosen the other hand, it would have meant something different. But you didn’t. You confirmed your connection to the owl magic."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she absorbed the moment. She was tasked with placing the seeds near the cabin, but no one could tell her where. It had to be her choice. Later, she returned, worried. "One seed fell to the ground."

I reassured her, "If it fell, it was meant to be there."

G then wanted to practice being an owl, and so she searched for a branch where she could perch like one. She climbed onto a fallen poplar but found it difficult. She tried and tried, attempting different approaches, scrambling up and slipping back down, frustration building each time. But she didn’t give up. With one final push, she finally made it onto the branch, breathless but triumphant. “That was so hard!” she huffed.

I pointed out, "But you kept trying. That’s perseverance. Owls persevere, too."

She grinned. "Another test passed."

As the fire in the cabin burned low, I took a few children down to the stream to collect dry wood. Along the way, they made sure to ask the forest for permission.

“Forest, don’t worry. We’re only taking dead branches from the ground and the lowest limbs,” I called out. “Chickadees, don’t fly away into the fields. Ice, don’t prank us and make us fall!”

I turned to G and the others. “And don’t forget… we have to ask the stick if it wants to be burned. Once it burns, it’s changed forever.”

“Of course,” G replied thoughtfully. “But you aren’t an animal, so I should do it.”

I smiled. “That makes sense to me.”

I held up a piece of dry wood. “Hey, G, can you ask this tree if we can use its fallen branches?”

G nodded, placed a hand on the tree, closed her eyes, and stood quietly for a moment. Then she opened them. “It says no.”

And so, some sticks were left untouched, returned respectfully to the forest floor, while others received a full yes. Some, according to G’s assessment, allowed only half to be taken.

Back at the cabin, as the group tended to the fire, G looked up. "What kind of owl do you think I would be?"

I smiled. "I’m not sure, but I know where we can find out."

Together, we pored over bird identification books, flipping through the pages until G stopped. Her eyes locked onto the Snowy Owl.

“This is the owl I am,” she declared.

“A good choice,” I said with a smile.

Brent Lamborn