Great Horned Owl photo by Ken Shults
Up in a Cottonwood
I.
Who could have for some reason
put a large grey stone
way up in a cottonwood?
Not even on a branch: a twig
holds up that feather boulder
softer than the evening air.
Another deeper in the leaves
turns its silent horns this way,
gazes, shifts the grip
of the mousedeath talons,
and softly tells us who.
II.
Indignant indolence.
Wrath gone all downy.
An awful gold round glare
shut halfway to pure contempt.
Birdwatchers.
Someone should remove them.
If they were smaller
If it were evening
I would see to it.
And presently
issue a pellet containing their bones.
III.
Moon cursive
shell curve
of wings in leaves and shadows
soundless, halfseen.
An owl is mostly air.
Ursula K. LeGuin, From Incredible Good Fortune
Many words have been spent on our feelings about owls. Wise or wicked, owls may more than any other birds stand in for human traits in mythology, folk tales, and many genres of literature. Merlin's owl Archimedes and Harry Potter's Hedwig are wizards’ companions; owls are in children's stories at least as far back as Beatrix Potter and Winnie the Pooh. And of course owls figure in many a ghost story.
Owls play different roles in many poems. LeGuin's poem gives us three views, the first familiar to many a bird watcher who has overlooked a still and silent owl, the third a graphic visual take on an owl's essence. Separating those more or less objective views, is the remarkable center of the poem, a fanciful peek inside an owl's mind.
We may well doubt that owls have a concept of mind at all; if they do it probably isn't much like mine or Ursula LeGuin's. But what bird watcher will not find this a humorous and insightful take on our relationship to the targets of our sometimes obsessive searching?
Ursula LeGuin is best known for her fantasy stories for young, and older, adults. Prolific in other genres, much of her poetry comes from an intimacy with the outdoors, especially both eastern and western Oregon where she lived her later life, and passed away January 2018.
In the Audubon world we may like owls more than other birds. The favor of our “likes” is an unfair burden for any creature, just as much as our dislike. Read with caution and an open mind, and enjoy this poem as much as I do.