This post follows up on my previous post, which was about rediscovering my hometown of Acton and environs in light of the pandemic. Now, it is coming upon three months since we arrived in Acton. This is far and away the longest time I’ve spent in Acton in 30+ years, and in the USA for that matter over the past twenty years. Here in this post, I will meditate on how my life has taken on a druidical dimension since I first landed back in my hometown, and the series of coincidences that have brought me deeper and deeper into the forest both literally and metaphorically. So, cue the Outlander soundtrack, and let’s begin.
reflections of the forest in the waters
It all began in January, when the pandemic was just beginning to enter our consciousness. We were on a family trip to Singapore for the Chinese New Year holiday. One evening, during a visit to the Kinokuniya bookstore, I happened to notice a novel with the intriguing name of The Overstory. Although I hadn’t read his work before, I recognized the name of the author, Richard Powers.
A week later, I found myself on a flight to California with my daughters, where we spent a few weeks before heading to Massachusetts. We were on the lam from the pandemic so to speak, which was now spreading like wildfire, much more quickly and comprehensively, than we could have imagined at the time. These stories are told in my previous posts, so I’ll leave it there and go on.
I was reading The Overstory during our journey in the USA, and this book was drawing me deeper and deeper into the mysterious lives of trees and forests. When we arrived in Acton, I already felt a deeper connection to the forest that surrounds us, and this continued to develop as I raced through the book, finishing it sometime in late March. Meanwhile, a Facebook friend introduced me to some other books on natural history and forests, which I relate in my previous post.
Strange coincidence that as I was being drawn deeper into the world of trees and forests, an old friend from my high school days was organizing a band of players for a Dungeons and Dragons adventure. I hadn’t played this role-playing game in decades, not since I was in high school. As it was a fun way to reconnect with some other friends from those days, I opted in. Lo and behold, I was given the character of a Druid, with magical powers all relating to nature. Those who play the game know what it takes to get into your character. And so, I was primed for a journey, both in the imaginary role-playing world of D&D, and in the “real world.”
Ferns and mayflowers begin peeking up from the forest floor in early May
Meanwhile, I was taking long walks in the forest that surrounds our house. The neighborhood where my parents live abuts a forest and conservation land. As the winter weather gradually gave way to spring, I roamed the trails and pathways of the forest, watching as the forest literally came to life. First, I noticed the sprouting of the ferns and the skunk cabbage especially in the wet areas around the small streams of the forest. Then, the Canada mayflowers began to cover the ground with their green leaves. After that, the small trees such as the beeches began to produce leaves, which greened up the forest landscape considerably. Finally, it was time for the tall majestic oaks to cover the forest canopy with their leaves. All of this happened gradually and steadily throughout the month of May.
Forest ferns in late May
Over April and into May, the ornamental trees in our neighborhood were themselves bursting with colorful flowers. First, the magnolias came out in their white splendor. Then it was time for the cherries and the crabapples to blossom. Finally, in early May, it was the dogwoods’ turn to bloom, just as the cherries and crabapples started shedding in a rain of pink blossoms. Yet my own interests were drawn increasingly into the natural forest. In addition to roaming our neighboring conservation lands, I searched out other forests and other conservation areas that were within easy driving distance from our home in Acton. I went on walks in these areas with my daughters and my parents. As enjoyable as these walks were, I found myself craving solitary forest walks more and more often. Soon this became a daily habit--dare I say, almost an addiction?
Over time, my interests gravitated from the flora and fauna to the wildlife that inhabit the forest and the wetlands. The turning point was when I spotted an owl in the trees behind our home. I was able to snap some photos of the owl before it disappeared into the forest. We identified it easily as a Barred Owl. This happened on May 5, to be precise.
Then, last Wednesday, May 20th, I was walking along a trail in our local conservation land, when I heard a commotion in the trees above me. I looked up to see a pair of crows cackling loudly, obviously disturbed by something. There in the branches, just below the crows, was a large brownish figure, and when it turned its head to look my way, instantly I recognized it as an owl by its horns or tufts. The crows continued with their loud cacophany. One of the crows did a flyby very close to the owl, and the owl raised up one of its legs and swiped at the crow with its talons, without moving its body as much as an inch. It was such a beautiful and significant gesture, that I later regarded it as an omen. The owl then fluffed itself and eventually it flew off. Later, with some help from my stepfather, I was able to confirm the sighting of a Great Horned Owl.
Excited about this find, I wrote to an old friend who is a lifetime birder, and he shared with me his own experience of first seeing a Great Horned Owl in Nova Scotia, which was also being scolded by crows. If I ever get together a band, that’ll be the name: Scolded by Crows. My friend the birder told me to look for telltale signs of owl habitation, including pellets left by the owls after they regurgitate the fur and bones and other indigestible parts of their daily meals.
Two nights ago, I was awoken around 4 am by the call of one of our local Barred Owls: Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you? The call was so close, it sounded like it was coming from just outside my bedroom window. Then it receded into the distance. The owls were calling me. I had to follow.
This morning, I went out onto the porch that looks out from our home into the woodlands, and I heard the call again. Normally I take my forest walks in the late afternoon before dinner, but this time I was compelled to head into the forest around 10 am. Rather than follow my usual pathways through the forest, I chose an alternate route, which took me even deeper into the hilly conservation land dominated by tall oaks and pines. An hour later, I saw a large pair of brown wings flying in the opposite direction amongst the trees. I followed it and found a Barred Owl perched high upon the branch of a tall pine tree. It stayed on its perch long enough for me to take a series of photos, and then it alighted and flew off deeper into the forest. It was a beautiful sight, and not unlike a dream.
Barred Owl in the forest, May 26
I then walked over to the area where I’d seen the Great Horned Owl. Sure enough, I found what appeared to be owl pellets on the ground near where I had spotted it a week ago. I decided to head back to that area around sunset. I went with my daughter to the spot where I’d seen the owl the week before, and where I’d found the owl pellets earlier that day. We didn’t spot anything in the trees. But as we were walking along, we saw the Great Horned Owl from a distance, perched upon the branches of a dead tree surveying the wetlands. It was a magnificent vision, even though the owl was quite a distance away. And it stared back at us with large yellow eyes.
And that is how I came to see two owls in one day.
Great Horned Owl, May 26