Owls and Chickens
The first time I set out to search for the Great Horned Owl’s nest on the campus of the University of North Carolina Asheville, I returned to my car disappointed. The directions in the local WhatsApp birding group had been too vague, my sight not keen enough.
I reached out to a birder in the group to request help, which was graciously granted. When I returned to campus equipped with more information, I had a clearer sense of where to begin my search.
As I paused on the trail through the woods, something caught my eye. Training my binoculars on a V-shaped pocket in a towering pine, I spied the distinctive ears of a Great Horned Owl.
When I followed the trail to the other side of the woods, I had a clear view of the mother owl, and she had a clear view of me. I knew from the reports of other birders that the mother had laid eggs in the nest, and the father was often perched nearby. Hunkered down with her wings spread across the perimeter of the stick-built nest, she appeared to be fiercely protecting something - eggs or chicks? I logged my find using eBird and sent a thank you message to the birder who had pointed me in the right direction.
On the first Sunday of Lent, after birding at Beaver Lake Bird Sanctuary, I opted to check in on the mother owl before I headed home for the night. A woman with binoculars approached me as I prepared to enter the forest. “Have you seen the baby?” she asked. With the help of another birder, she had glimpsed the downy chick a few days earlier. At that moment, I knew I would not leave those woods until I had seen the chick for myself.
From the trail, I once again located the nest. The mother was sitting upright, surveying the forest. I spotted a tuft of white feathers - did they belong to the mother or a chick? For 45 minutes, I patiently watched and waited. Then father hooted from a nearby tree.
Suddenly, the scene shifted. The mother owl moved further back into the nest. A white figure emerged in the foreground, peering toward me. The chick! Had the father’s hoots summoned the little owl out from underneath the mother’s wings?
I lingered until daylight was nearly gone, transfixed by the sight of the Great Horned Owl and her chick. Without a doubt, I was in the presence of the holy. I took a few blurry photos of the little owl with my iPhone and posted one to the WhatsApp group. Within minutes, two other birders arrived, binoculars in hand. After we rejoiced together, I drove home elated.
Birding is a spiritual practice for me, and my experiences in the woods on UNCA’s campus have already born much fruit. In subsequent days as I pondered the significance of my owl encounters, the sight of the mother’s wings stretched out over the nest tugged at my heartstrings. Soon I connected that image to one I had observed on a trip to Israel a decade ago, when I visited Dominus Flevet Church on the Mount of Olives.
The view of the Old City of Jerusalem from the window behind the altar at Dominus Flevet is unforgettable. I wish our group could have lingered longer on our visit. The church’s name - which means “The Lord Wept” - was inspired by a story recorded in Luke 13:31-35. In Luke’s account, a frustrated Jesus laments, “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”
The mosaic on the altar deeply moved me that day and moves me still. I call this image to mind when I practice the breath prayer I learned from Sarah Bessey:
Inhale: Gather us into your embrace,
Exhale: As a mother hen gathers her chicks.
Now I can connect a second image to this spiritual practice - the sight of a mother Great Horned Owl with her wings stretched protectively across her nest. This breath prayer particularly resonates with me during this sacred season, since Luke 13:31-35 was the gospel reading for the second Sunday of Lent.
Mother owl. Mother hen. Oh, how we need to be mothered.
Jesus, our mother hen, have mercy on us. Gather us. Protect us. Comfort us. Prepare us to fly into an uncertain future.
