Tales from a
Sisters
Naturalist
by Jim Anderson
My feathered
foster son — Part 3
In spite of Owl9s one
blind eye, for a number of
years we continued to give
numerous programs for
the residents and guests of
Sunriver and the greater
Central Oregon area. He was
also a regular fixture in my
office, fascinating all who
came to the <Ecologium,=
bad eye notwithstanding.
When he was at the mews
I fed him his lab rat and that
went on without any more
problems as we presented
wildlife programs. Then we
moved to a pole house adja-
cent to the main highway
on the southern borders of
Sunriver.
Owl was anxious to get
out of his mews, but I kept
him inside for a week and
took him for walks on the
leash to get him familiar
with the new location. When
I finally turned him loose
the first thing he did was
try to cross the highway at
night and he was struck by
a motor vehicle. I found him
lying next to the house and
highway the next morning,
alive but badly hurt.
He didn9t have any bro-
ken bones, but his good eye
didn9t look all that good, so
back into the mews he went
to recover, which he did
after several weeks of my
soaking his eye with warm
water and watching it slowly
begin to look like it was get-
ting back to normal. What I
didn9t know was his sight in
that eye was ruined.
When I thought he was
OK, I turned him loose again
and he immediately flew to
the top of the tree next to
the house. He sat up there
hooting and the response he
received were three ravens
who immediately started to
maul him.
As he tried to get away,
he floundered in the tops of
the trees, making it all too
obvious he couldn9t see. I
immediately called out to
him and he flew towards
me, blindly crashing into
branches with the ravens hot
on his tail.
I noticed each time I
called him he9d immedi-
ately make a course correc-
tion and turn toward me, so
I kept a steady conversation
going as he bounced off
this and that limb, slowly
descending my way.
In a moment he was out
of the branches and glided
right down, following my
voice, landing on my out-
stretched bare hand, making
small chittering noises as
he gently got his feet under
him.
That was one of the
toughest moments of my
life.
For years his actions had
been without flaw, his health
was never in question. His
mews were not heated,
just covered with a tarp in
Wednesday, December 4, 2019 The Nugget Newspaper, Sisters, Oregon
winter, and he never com-
plained or showed any trace
of being handicapped.
And through my negli-
gence he was now blind.
What would you do if
you saw one of your kids in
a fix like that? I started to
soothe Owl the best way I
could, by softly stroking his
neck and back. He moved
toward me, with what I
would have said was a sigh
if it came from a human, and
suddenly I couldn9t see him
clearly anymore; my tears
got the best of me.
That was the last time
my feathered foster son and
I had a one-on-one personal
moment. Life soon meant
nothing to him; I could see
it in his attention span, his
stance and in his breathing.
And then he just quit eat-
ing. Three days later I found
him lying on the floor of his
mews, his beautiful spirit
having gone out among the
stars.
Perhaps, if I9ve done
things mostly right in this
life, when I cross over that
gulf between here and the
spirit world, I9ll find it as my
25
PHOTO BY JIM ANDERSON
My foster son, Owl, when he was surprised by a dog, strange or
otherwise.
grandmother told us she saw
it in her last breath, <Oh,
it9s so beautiful here&= and
my feathered foster son,
Owl, will be waiting for me,
perched on her hand.
Give yourself
the gift of
beautiful hair!
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