16 August 08
Barn Owl
These days when I wash my hair I go outside to comb it out — keeps all that long gray hair off the floor. This morning I was out there. It wasn’t yet dawn but pleasantly cool. I looked out over the field at the turkey battalions making their orderly way down from the levee top.
Then, there it was. The barn owl. Rowing silently through the air. I forgot the hair and ran back inside to draw it from memory. (Note to self: go nowhere, not even outside to comb your hair, without a sketchbook in your pocket.) I think the wings are a little short — it’s a ludicrously small bird for its wing mass. Glorious, though. Ghost bird.
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