A Kind of Freedom
By Robert Beck

Years ago, a great horned owl lived in the woods behind where I lived. Sometimes when I heard her hoot, I would go out back and return her distinctive pattern call — hoo, hoohoohoo, hoohoo — which would draw her close, thinking I might be a suitable mate. Ultimately, she would be disappointed, but we would laugh about it. Life is like that.

One day I noticed what looked like a rotted stump by the side of the road near my house. On second glance, it turned out to be an owl standing in the tall grass. She had been injured, probably in a collision with a car. One eye was gone, her beak was damaged, and she was limping. I called a friend, Lori, who has experience with rescue, and together we got the owl to an animal shelter equipped to deal with severe injuries. The triage team determined she might respond to treatment, and four months later, I received a call asking if I could confirm the spot where the owl had been found, and would I like to be the person who released her. That is a remarkable memory of mine: watching her leap out of the cage, flap her enormous wings a few times, and glide across the field and up into the branches on the hill near my house.

There is no way to know if it was the owl I used to flirt with, but there aren’t many owls in any territory. I didn’t hear the familiar hoot during those four months, yet I conversed with her a few months later. There is a danger and foolishness in anthropomorphizing or favoring an animal because of its appearance or mythology. That goes for all creatures. But there is a peace when things are in harmony. We don’t get to determine the correct balance, but we can encourage harmony.

Flaco’s break for freedom initiated a suspension of everyday newyorkerness and a call for a natural justice. We saw it with the hawks nesting on the ledge, and the coyote, and now the Eurasian eagle-owl. The desire to have individual pluck be rewarded, and to win out over the vagaries of chance and sharp edges of the city. We are invested in Flaco’s adventure, seeing ourselves in the story and imagining the corner of our cage opening up, and with the briefest of consideration, off we go.

You can contact Robert through his website at robertbeck.net

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