…where I’ve been.
1 year without leg shaving. 8 hours of extra free time. You might not think of 8 hours a week being much, but think how much more training you could do with an extra 8 hours. Makes Kona kind of look like a real possibility doesn’t it?
8 hours. And it only cost me 5 pounds.
Many years ago, almost another lifetime now, I was what the British might call a tweeter. A birder over here on the Yankee side of the pond. I still love watching birds. But I don’t contribute nearly the amount of time to it that I used to. And I certainly don’t do it for sport any more. I do have a lot of field guides still. And I still take them with me when I go to exotic places. I’m just out of practice now. My binoculars are no longer an appendage, glued to my face as they once were. But I paid my dues in my day. While I don’t have nearly as extensive a list as many birders do. I have a lot of stuff on my list that most people will never see.
I’ve gone to random places specifically to see certain species. I’ve gotten up early, stayed up late, even stayed up all night a few times for some birds. I’ve squinted to see Manx Sheerwaters miles off the coast in a grainy scope. I’ve called in birds with a tape. This is something that most Ornithologists or anyone with more than two bits in their skull would recommend against. Mostly because it makes the birds, owls in most cases think there is someone to mate with. Owls have been known to attack birders who’ve done this and this is why the Audubon tapes and CD’s come with warnings about it. But, you do what you gotta do to see what you gotta see.
I bring this all up for the context of what happened to me this morning. It was a normal Tuesday, much like any other. Its November, which means I see very little daylight. I run with a headlamp. But at one point in Seward Park, I’ve been turning the light off lately. It’s an open spot, with little tree cover and the path is right by the water. It’s nice to be in the dark.
So I’m running along, in the dark. Minding my own business. I don’t even know what I was thinking about, when I see something out of the corner of my eye. At the same time, I feel it hit my head. Instinctively, I fall to the ground. It is as I am falling that I realize what is happening. I look up to see the bird, a Bard Owl flying back into the trees. I can’t see it anymore. My hat and headlamp are no longer on my head. My hat is white; I can easily see it and I pick it up. My headlamp, I can’t find. As I’m searching for it, the owl makes another pass at me, missing me this time as I duck out of the way. I know why it’s doing this. I’m in its territory and it perceives me as a threat. Either that or it wants to mate with me. (I’m doubtful of the latter.) After its second pass at my head, I start to yell at it, or yell to it. “I’m not interested in your territory!” “I’m not here to bother you!” Those kinds of things. I continue to search for my headlamp and can’t find it because it’s so dark. I contemplate leaving it just so I can get the hell out of there. I contemplate waiting for other people to come by with lights. Every time I bend over to look at the ground, I find myself looking back up, terrified that it will go for my head again.
Finally, I find my headlamp. I put it back on and thinking that maybe if the light is on, the owl wont go after me again. No such luck. It comes after me again, and I manage to skirt its sharp talons. I yell to it in one last vain attempt “But I’m a birder!” I think I’ve thought about all the possible reasons why it might be attacking me. I think maybe it knows it’s the week of Thanksgiving and that many of its avian brethren will end up on plates in two days. I then yell “I’m a fucking vegetarian!” I’m also running away at this point. So I’m not sure which phrase or action has led to my favorable result. (Probably not the yelling.)
I got away with minimal scrapes and some bruising from my fall. Nothing directly related to the attack itself. Several years ago, I remember a friend was attacked by a Great Horned Owl while on a hike. She needed to get stitches in her scalp. I was much luckier. The whole experience was both the most terrifying and most fucking awesome experience I’ve had in a long time. I wonder if it was my bird karma that brought this on. Maybe I should have never called them in.
This photo is what the attack might have looked like had it taken place at The Grand Columbian. A small liberty with the truth I know. But I couldn’t resist.
