June 29, 2011
I saw the last minutes of a beloved owl in our back yard tonight. This owl had come and communicated with me last year sitting on the top of an antennae on the top of our dome home. He told me he would be there with me to communicate with me and interact with me.
I went outside tonight to watch the sunset, and I saw Toshiro shrinking away from the place where three huge palm trees stood. I followed him to the back door wondering what was going on, then I turned and saw sitting beside a plant at the foot of the palm trees where Toshiro had been, the owl that has been visiting back and forth between our home and that of our dear friends, Jill and John, who own the dome. I also saw the sadness in Toshiro’s eyes, though I didn’t realize it was there till I knew why it was.
The owl was sitting looking at me as I slowly approached him. I didn’t go too close lest he should fly away. I went back to the door and called for Bob to come out. When he came out the owl had moved slightly behind the plant he had been sitting beside. Bob then went back into the house to get the camera. He took a picture, and left the camera with me, in case the owl came forth again.
I sat there talking to this wonderful friend who I had communicated with from the first time I saw him. He had visited us, and our friends, over the year and a half we’ve lived here. He’d played games of hide and seek with us, from cactus to tree; from rooftop to back yard fences. He displayed his innate way of fulfilling his way of sustenance by playing games with the rabbits who came to partake of the raw vegetable scraps that Jill offered them every evening.
After a while I went over to talk with him again. He had moved behind the plant and as I talked with him I could barely see one of his eyes, which he slightly turned my way. I suddenly got the idea, “Are you hurt? You don’t look so good.” I called Jill and John and asked who might be able to come to take care of him. They called the people who do this, who work to rehabilitate the wildlife that come to their place hurt and disabled.
It took much too long for them to come, even though they came as quickly as they could. I led them to the owl, whom I had in the course of my conversation with him while out there, named my ‘tree owl’. Just at dusk, after the glowing colors of the sunset had faded away, they came and I showed them my friend. He had crawled out from behind the plant and was lying there in plain sight for us to see his plight. He was already in another place, with no pain, no strife, flying through the air on his heavenly flight.
I told him with tears in my eyes that I knew his freedom. I felt his joy in being free of the pain that the wounds we discovered had brought him. I felt his trust in coming to the place where he knew he would be seen and honored. I felt the loss so deeply, yet I felt his freedom of flight even deeper. I had a moment of joy for that freedom for him, mixed in with my moment of sorrow for my loss of his beauty and his representation of what he stood for.
The ones who came to rescue him told us that they would bring another owl to us, one of two that they had that had been rescued. We will be receiving a special gift and the new owl will be happily received and honored for the example he brings of the freedom that can be lived in the home of Mother Earth.
Honor all of the wildlife, for they bring to us such a treasure of example of how to live in harmony with all of nature. We can take a lesson from them, and honor them when their time is here for leaving to another life, another way of experiencing the joyousness of living in the freedom that is innate within.
I give you this story of the gift that came to me. The beloved ‘Tree Owl’ that stands so dearly for the freedom that we can live and honor in our lives is living it now.
I love you all so dearly and I encourage you to find the freedom that Tree Owl presents to us all.
Love, Nancy Tate