'Twas The Week (or so) Before Christmas
'Twas the week (or so) before Christmas, when all through the yard- not a creature was stirring, not even our cards.
Our feeders were hung by the pine trees with care- in hopes that Common Redpolls would soon be there.
My hubby was nestled all snug in our bed- while visions of birds danced through my head.
The night soon grew silent, with my rotties head on my lap-while the yardbirds soon settled in for their long nightly nap.
From out of the trees a large shadow flew by- I sprang from the couch in the blink of an eye.
Away to the window I flew like a flash- tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon was quite hidden and we'd lost all our snow- and as always the fat 'possums were feeding below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear- but a beautiful bird who's large eyes were so clear.
It let out a call that sounded much like a howl- and I knew right then that this bird was 'my Owl'.
I sat on the floor in a trance with my bins- while he preened and then hooted, I watched with a large grin.
"Who cooks for youuu, whooo cooks for youuuuu all! -The woods soon grew silent except for his call.
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly- when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to a large beech this great owl soon flew-with wings that stretched far, and so powerful too.
And then, in a twinkling, I saw the small mouse- while it fed on cracked corn, not too far from the house.
As I tried to focus the bins on the ground- the owl left his perch on the limb with a bound.
He was dressed in barred feathers, from his head to his feet- His movements precise, his attention complete.
Time stood so still as I watched his attack- the air grew quite tense (as well as my back).
His eyes- how they shone.. and as he grew near- with those talons like razors, his intent was so clear.
His sharp yellow beak drew down in a vee- And the strength in his body was plain to see.
It's no wonder that owls are thought of as wise- for I knew that the mouse was in for a surprise.
With a dish shaped face and fully streaked breast- in the family of predators he was one of the best.
He was fit as a fiddle, in the prime of his years- I felt honored to watch this, in my eyes I felt tears.
With one blink of his eyes and a twist of his head- he snatched up the mouse, went back to his perch and then fed.
He made not a sound, but went straight to his meal- this was awesome to watch and somewhat surreal.
And finally, when finished, he gazed up at the sky- as in thanks for the meal that would help him get by.
He sprang off the limb, flying back to the trees -I felt humble and grateful, a bit weak in the knees.
I smiled with much wonder as he flew out of sight..
'Good Birding, Happy Holidays & To All A Good Night'.
Written By © C. Mead