The Owl

Photo 874.jpg, originally uploaded by abneypark.

Those of you with sensitive or squeamish dispositions should avoid this particular Veenic monologue, as it deals with that awful girl's rather vexing fascination with biology, living or not...so...living.

On my overland voyage to San Francisco, I went through a stretch of I-5 just north of Williams, California, that seemed absolutely baptised by the myriad dooms of dozens of owls. Heads, wings, talons, feathers flopping and flirting with each zooming car.

As I am an avid collector of wings and feathers, and could not bear to pass up the chance to examine one of the beasts personally, I switched my hazards and skidded to the shoulder.

This particular owl, illustrated further in the photoset to which he belongs on Flickr, is in near-perfect condition (he suffers from a broken scapula so that one wing is floppy, and a few bloodstains. Other than that, nary a feather out of place) and appears entirely undecayed except that his eyes are simply hollow slits, which gives him a mask-like visage. He is, as you can see, still limp. And I cannot detect any odor from him whatsoever.

And that is why I picked him up and took him with me. He represents my best "find" in my experience with finding things of this sort, and I am now at a loss for what to do with him during the duration of my stay in hotels and other peoples' homes. Currently he is iced in a hotel bucket, swaddled in many protective layers of plastic.  I considered shipping him home to Daddy Veen for freezing until I can return, but ultimately, he represents such a lovely specimen in his entirety that I think I will use the money from this gig to have him properly preserved in a fitting attitude of owlishness. Perhaps with his eyes closed, as they appear now.

I have also offered him to a friend who is interested in taxidermy, but she will probably have trouble getting him back to the UK with her.

While I find the mounting of "trophies" to be rather tasteless, I had no part in the death of this creature, and see him as a fortuitous salvage rather than any sort of victory.

My warmest thanks to the wilderness and her bounty. I plan on collecting more more from that stretch of road on my way home, and there will be skulls and feathers for everyone.

PS: you are all welcome, and in fact encouraged, to turn me into decorative, morbid, or curious objects after I am dead. Anything else would just be a waste of raw material.