My First Owl

I never really thought much about being a wizard – it just happened. I suppose that I was a wizard from the moment I was born. I’m not sure. One day I was mindlessly playing in the living room and Mom hollered in, “OK, time to clean up for lunch.” And, the next thing I knew, all the toys and games were put away neatly back in the box, my hands were washed and I was sitting at the table, ready to eat another hearty meal of her favorite dish – liver and onions. I was as surprised as anyone that it had all happened. That was the first time I realized consciously, that I could do things like that - you know, have a big affect on the world.

My parents didn't make any special arrangements for me to go to school or take any special training like Harry and Ron and Hermione had to do at Hogwarts. I suppose it might have helped though, in the beginning anyway. I was a bit of a loose cannon. I made a lot of mistakes in my early days. For example, riding a broom-stick was not as easy as they made it look, in all the Harry Potter movies. I broke my fair share of pots and flower vases in my mom’s kitchen, trying to complete finnicky maneuvers while changing direction, velocity and acceleration. Breaking kitchen items was one thing, but I could never seem to focus enough to reassemble said items in the same perfect form they had taken originally. I certainly experienced my lumps, falling off the thing - in case you hadn't noticed, there's really nowhere to sit on a broomstick, and you need exceptionally good balance. Installing a bicycle seat would be a worthwhile addition to any broomstick. However, don’t let anyone fool you. It’s not just broomsticks that a wizard is able to ride – I could also stay upright on other pieces of sports equipment too - like hockey sticks. There were more than just a few surprised coaches and parents in the arena, the day I debuted that little trick in the middle of a minor league hockey game.

I didn’t really go in for the ‘magic potion’ side of wizardry either. I failed Chemistry in Grade 11. I was never able to get the gist of handling chemicals and glassware beakers and graduated cylinders and the like. It always seemed like such a chore. Growing up a wizard, I was more interested in using my skills to perform more physical and practical, everyday sorts of tasks. For example, I still hold a lot of school records in track & field. Sprint races were my favorite. Actually all races, no matter the distance, were considered sprint races for me. I once broke the high-jump record and the record for long-jump, on the same day and in the same meet, and in the same 110-meter hurdle event, when I cleared all 10 hurdles in the race in one bound. In football, I established a record by scoring 10 offensive touchdowns and 6 defensive touchdowns in the same game – actually in the first quarter of the same game. On another occasion, in a school baseball game, I struck out 27 consecutive batters with just 81 pitches – all fastballs, clocked at over 120 mph. After throwing those 9 consecutive immaculate innings in one game, I was written up in Sports Illustrated in the “Faces in the Crowd” segment.

Things like sports and music have always come fairly easily for me. By the time I was 11 years old, I could play every musical instrument known to man and I had perfect pitch on top of it all. I spent a couple of my teenage years helping John Lennon and Paul McCartney write some of their more recognizable and well-known tunes. They were cool to hang around with, but they were a little slow on the musical uptake, if you catch my drift.

When I finally graduated from High School, I came to the realization that, as an up-and-coming wizard, I was definitely going to need an owl. I mean, my childhood hero, Harry Potter, had one. And, so did all of his friends. I wasn’t sure where I would get an owl so, I visited London, England one summer. I spent a lot of time in the tunnels of the various Tube stations around the city. King’s Cross Station in particular, consumed large portions of my days. I can’t begin to tell you, just how many brick walls I ran into and bounced off of trying to get to Platform 9 ¾ . Fortunately, I finally found a brilliant and talented travel agent who helped me overcome my painful attempts to find the magical place that would lead me to befriending my first owl. Because of her skill and expertise in the area, she was able to assist me, in not only travelling, but also in helping a young wizard like me to find an owl for his own personal use. Like a kind and caring teacher, she suggested that I apply for membership in one or more of London’s many libraries.

Since I had no idea how to catch an owl, I took my agent’s advice and applied for, and was granted, a library membership (and accompanying card – laminated in a protective vinyl sleeve). I studied book after book in library after library, looking at all sorts of owls – Great Horned Owls, Lesser Horned Owls, Snowy Owls, Barn Owls, Saw-Whet Owls, Hoot Owls. I never had any idea there were so many different types of owls. I was having difficulty in deciding on which type of owl to get. Serendipitously, while listening to an album by The Mamas and The Papas, and in particular, a song entitled “Creeque Alley”, I fell upon the idea of getting a ‘Night Owl’ (“Zal, Denny and Sebastian sat – at the Night Owl - and after every number, they passed the hat”). I found a book in the library at the Museum of Natural History in London that illustrated in great detail just how to procure a member of the night-owl species from the wild. I proceeded to follow the instructions laid out in the manual.

My first step was to purchase a fiber-glass fishing rod equipped with a reel and 100 meters of nylon line, I also bought a pair of fur-covered mittens and a large fluffy beach towel. Apparently, this would be all I would need to catch a night-owl. Once caught, of course, I would also require a fairly large bird cage in which to house the spoils of my most-excellent hunting adventure.

I traveled to a small rural community somewhere on the road to Brighton, which purportedly was home to larger than ordinary “parliaments” of Night Owls. I drove out along a stretch of back-road, lined with old hydro utility poles. The poles had been decommissioned and no longer supported cabled power-lines. They were supposedly ideal roosting sites for owls wishing to spot and capture some furry little animal scurrying around in the twilight of the day. Sure enough, as I drove along, I spotted several Night Owls perched here and there on top of the poles lining the road. One of the owls I noticed in the distance, sported a particularly striking plumage. This was my guy. I stopped my ride about 50 meters from the pole on which it sat. I got out of the car and secured my equipment. I threaded the fishing rod and attached a fur-covered mitten to the free end of the line. I readied the towel and the bird cage for the moment of capture. In order to lure this owl I would have to get it to first notice the bait on the end of the line. I casted once to a distance about half-way between the owl and I. The owl’s head snapped in my direction much like Linda Blair’s did in “The Exorcist”. I quickly reeled the furry mitten back into the fishing rod. I definitely had the Night Owl’s attention. It watched intently as the mitten scooted and bounced over the weeds and short grass on the side of the road.

Now that I had this bird’s attention, I casted again – this time, the mitten landed within 10 meters of the base of the pole on which the owl was perched. It shrugged it’s shoulders and, as if falling off the top of the pole, it swooped downward toward the bait. It’s actions mesmerized me momentarily. The beauty and grace of the swoop, caught me by surprise and I was too late in beginning the retreat of my line. The owl caught up to the furry mitten in an instant. On examining the potential prey at the end of the line, it quickly concluded that the mitten, was indeed not a fat rodent after all, and in a flash it lifted its body, up and away to a distant pole further down the road. I contemplated going after the same owl because of it’s unique plumage, but I thought better of it. I collected my gear and drove perhaps two or three kilometers past. As I moved onward, I looked up at the owl, "that got away", on its perch and it winked at me in return.

I made attempts at snagging three other owls after that, but all to no avail. Each successive owl either didn’t 'bite' on the fake bait or escaped during my attempts to capture it on the final step of the procedure. On my fifth try of the day, I was able to get my target’s attention quite easily. This one was a huge Night Owl with brilliant reddy-brown feathers and an enormous fluorescent-white circular face. I casted the furry bait close enough to the owl’s perch to induce an action of 'swoop and capture' on its part. As soon as I saw the shoulder-shrug response, I began to reel in the mitten as quickly as I could. The owl landed within a meter of the mitten and lunged at it, wings a-flap. I was able to pull it away in the nick of time. The owl kept moving forward in its attempts to secure the prey but I was able to stay ahead of it in its many attempts to pounce on its prey. Finally, when the owl was within striking distance and now completely and senselessly immersed in its task of capture, I dropped the fishing rod, lifted the blanket off the ground and draped it definitively over the owl. I’m not even sure the owl was aware it had been captured. Under the blanket, it still seemed to be intent on finishing off the furry mitten. Carefully, I bundled the owl in the soft blanket, in order not to damage its wings or hurt its pride. It consented quite easily to captivity and I was able to make a flawless transfer of the bird from the blanket to the cage.

Because I was, and still am, a wizard, I was able to converse immediately with the bird, assuring it that it was in no danger. I let it know that it now would be in my service as a messenger and companion. There would be no days in the remainder of its life where it would want for food or comfort. It would also have the freedom to roam and take part in owl activities whenever it wanted, as long as it agreed to return to its cage each evening before sunset. It agreed willingly with a stoic owl-like grin and a wink and a nod.

So, off we went – back to King’s Cross Station where I again met with my travel agent on platform 9 ¾ . She checked to make sure that we had everything we needed for our trip back to America. Once ready, she waved her wand and we were on our way. In a flash, I was back home. I was anxious to send a message and try out this new royal companion. I decided to alert my mother that I was back in the country.

I wrote a note and told her, “I will be late for supper. Start without me. In fact, if you are preparing liver again . . . I’ll probably catch up with you tomorrow.”

I banded the message to my owl’s leg and set it free. It shrugged its shoulders and swooped effortlessly into flight. I watched as it grasped the air with its majestic wings and disappeared into the cloudless sky. And there it was. I finally had my first owl.