Mulling things on my morning ramble
with Storm, the family's mixed Lab.
If it wasn't for the strong northwest winds, I would never have seen the owl.
But even in the darkness before dawn, I could pick it out as it battled to fly west. It finally gave up, coasted on the winds and circled out over the north old clay pit, then disappeared.
In more than a decade of morning rambles--first with the late and much missed Flash, then the past five years with Storm--I have only seen a couple other owls.
Now a couple times a year, I will see owl pellets and whitewash under a tree for a few days, usually on the old rail bed now a trail above the south pit.
But actually seeing an owl is rare.
Now in late fall and early winter, light in the best of times is low and slow. Our rambles this time of the year usually start in full darkness and often end even before the sun is up.
So I don't expect much in the way of wildlife this time of the year.
The owl was just a bonus.
Some Canada geese cackled on the lake to the west. The sound carried easily this morning.
Cold enough to notice, but certainly not cold for the second week of December. The ground wasn't even frozen, but the wind chill was enough to force me to pull my camo cap down over my forehead and pull both hoods up.
Back in town, yellow light streamed from the storefront gym where some women exercised. And a points of light lit the downtown from the town's Christmas tree.
Tis the season for early and late darkness.