The soft hoot gently wakes me from a deep sleep. Hoo hoo. I roll over to 5:00 a.m glow on my clock.
In my mind's eye, I can see the powerful stare of an owl, a memory in which Tony calls to me, hands me binoculars, which I lift and search for the owl in the boughs of a pine tree. So resolute. So steady. So powerful.
And now one calls outside my bedroom window.
Another night, just as I am falling asleep, I hear the soft sounds again, Hoo hoo. Hoo hoo.
After three days of waking me before the sun rises, the owl is now calling out in the night.
It brings reassurance and peace.
There are few things I know about an owl. It is nocturnal, and it hunts small rodents, insects, and small birds. Perhaps he will take care of the mice that each winter, make their way into our home, into our pantry, into our mouse traps. To find a mouse, splayed and having suffered from the snap of wire, is startling. It sickens me.
"Tony!" I call out, grateful he is resigned to this unpleasant task of mouse removal.
Since the soft hoot of the owl, the trap, slathered in peanut butter has remained still.
I have come to look forward to the sound of the owl in the night, its gentle reassurance of order in nature.