I named this as a tribute to Mary Oliver. Unlike her I am not a poet but I love her poetry and mornings.
I probably wake early because I am what they call a morning person. I should have named this post - why I LOVE to wake early <g>.
I’ve only seen an owl , in the wild, once before in my life. And I have been listening to and stalking owls near my campsite all week.
One day I found the remains of an owl. Another, lots of owl scat. There have been owl feathers too. But this morning just before first light, I saw the silhouettes of two of them. They were perched in the tree behind my trailer.
I watched as one took off and returned for a bit and then left. I tried to see the remaining one with my binoculars but it was too dark. Little by little as the sun rose above the mountains casting a rosy glow on the sky and river, my world came to life. A great white heron flew by, the coots cam out of the reeds and headed out into the depths of the river. The owl began to stir.
It was looking around - could it want one last meal? Was it checking for predators, did it, like me just love to see the dawn and feel the warmth of the sun “returning”?
I’ll never know but eventually it flew off into a large tree with cover and passed on the watch to me, a creature of the day.