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Owl Be More Careful


Barred owlI watched this Barred Owl sitting just a few feet from my (home) office window Tuesday afternoon. It sat there for close to an hour before catching and consuming a Dark-eyed Junco near one of my feeders. Later, after the misadventure described below, Joann re-found it across the street and we watched it kill a squirrel. It flew up into a tree with the squirrel where the silhouette of the two–the squirrel’s tail hanging straight down–looked like a very large parrot.

baowbaowShortly after I took of these photos, Joann arrived home from work and the misadventure began. I shouted excitedly to her, “Quick, come look at this!” and simultaneously tried to move my wheelchair out of my way using its inaptly-named “joystick” while standing next to it. I hope this is the last time I am stupid enough to try this. The wheelchair knocked me off balance and I took a hard fall. Dented the wall pretty well with my head and thought I had broken my one barely-usable arm.

It took about 20 minutes of painful struggle for Joann to help me up off of the floor.

We tried first to accomplish this in my office[1]. This did not work well as there is nothing in the room to get me up onto except a very mobile rolling chair. The room’s hardwood floor is not something I could kneel on, so no half measures were available. I needed to be raised to all the way to my feet, which even with the lifting belt given to us by the VA was not happening. Finally, with Joann dragging me as I pushed with my feet, I was able to slide on my back down the hallway and into the living room. There the process of rolling me to my knees on a throw rug before tilting me up onto a couch restored some semblance of order. As I sat and “relaxed,”[2] Joann re-found the owl in the company of a squirrel destined to have a day worse than mine.

I was lucky to not be hurt worse. My arm is bruised but not broken. But I am sore all over today and feel weaker and less steady on my feet. The Vicodin helps.

May the memory of this owl remind me always to be more careful.

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Notes

  1. What I am calling my office here is most often referred to at home as “the mancave.” It is a small bedroom office containing a couple of bookshelves, a desk and a desktop computer. Alas, no wet bar or stuffed caribou head. [^]
  2. Imagine Burt Kwouk, “relaxing” at the end of one of my favorite scenes from the Pink Panther series. [^]

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