If the idea of gardening merely prompts memories of garden chores such as leaf-blowing, mowing, edging, dead-heading, thank your lucky stars you don’t have to engage in large scale owl-shifting.
Hearing Sherra Owen (whose garden these owls inhabit) on MPB radio reminded me that I had not yet shared my picture of her stone owl log. It is unfair of me not to say once again what a wonderful woodland garden she has, but she’s such a lovely person, I feel sure she won’t mind. Even her wooden fence thrills me, to say nothing of her trilliums, hellebores and other woodland ephemerals.
Apparently one of the things about encouraging owls to roost on fallen timber is that the wood decays and the owls fall… or rather they would, if the lady in question did not move them to a freshly fallen log.
Aware that I had some time ago started to share this picture, after some searching, I spotted this post in my drafts file with nothing more than the picture and a pun for a title – a feeble take on Chaucer’s Parliament of Fowls, which I had to read as a student (I like the poem enough to think of it each Valentine’s Day when the birds start to look for partners and build nests). I’ll resist the urge here to observe we might be better off with a Parliament of Birds… no, I won’t. Because we might.
So as not every post has to make sense, and sense appears to be in short supply at the moment, I’ll leave you with a few ideas of what the birds might be singing:
Smokestack Lightning (Owlin’ Wolf)
Night Owl Blues (The Lovin’ Spoonful)
Maybe I’m Amazed (Wings)
Owl Along The Watchtower (Bob Dylan)
Midnight Log (The Clash)
Twit Twoo Love (Bing Crosby)
Owling For You (The Black Keys)
Owl You Need Is Love (The Beatles)
I suggest you don’t like this one. It only encourages me.