The Path

A daily ritual on foot

Every day–––or almost every day–––we go for our favorite walk under the tree canopy. We have to walk the dog, but that just gives us an excuse to get out, put on some layers and head into the green. It’s an easy walk, as walks go. Slightly sloped upward, on a trail in the middle of a neighborhood. But the path, lined with arched trees, feels fairly sylvan despite the cul-de-sacs and ranch homes visible through the foliage. We see the same rotating assortment of folks day after day: the couple who ask if we’ve seen the nesting owls today––or at least heard them. We see the owls themselves, who are halfway up the grand, peeling eucalyptus trees, turning their heads this way and that, watching over their homestead in the boughs. Then, we see the woman with a new golden retriever puppy who is turning out to be a very good boy and tolerates Pumpkin’s lack of awareness of personal space.

When we are on our walk, whether in a slight rain, or in the sunshine I feel an almost unreasonable level of happiness. I mean, there we are, our little charge sniffing the fallen leaves, the grass alongside the path, happy in her world, as we the two-leggeds accompany her. Crows overhead, finches and chickadees in the shrub. And now these tremendous Great Horned Owls.

There are many myths about owls, and many different ways in which people interpret their presence. Of semi-local, California Native lore, I learned this:

“California Newuks believed that after death, the brave and virtuous became Great Horned Owls. The wicked, however, were doomed to become Barn Owls.

In the Sierras, native peoples believed the Great Horned Owl captured the souls of the dead and carried them to the underworld.”

https://www.owlpages.com/owls/articles.php?a=62

So, there is a long history of reverence for these beings who appear often in the lower branches of the eucalyptus (a common nesting tree of their kind) and look down on us with a very distinct indifference. It would not surprise me if they had some sway over my fate (though humans are known to have an undue influence on the fate of all other creatures) What’s clear is that all of us walkers revere them and wait upon their back and forth calls. Hoo hoo hoo, one calls. Hoo hoo, the other answers.

It’s a gift to be in the world. Despite the news of suffering near and far. There is so much beauty. So much ordinary, regular, tree-borne beauty. When I think of all those working to make the world kinder, to save species on the brink of disappearing, to protect human rights in order to ensure the well-being of people of all ages, faiths, colors, sexuality, and creeds, I hope we might be worthy of the Great Horned Owl. May we find it in ourselves to be brave enough to keep standing up in protection of what is tender and true.

Soon, if we’re all lucky enough, the owls will reveal their own fuzzy-headed offspring who will join their parents in looking down at us from the boughs with their uncanny yellow eyes. If the hawks don’t come. If they stay safe (please, please) through storm and rain.

Do you have a daily ritual to share? One that keeps you connected to a larger goodness. Or smaller one ; ) Do tell! Oh, and this is Pumpkin saying hello.

Danusha