Predator vs. Prey
I thought I was going to die
The owl swiveled its head around and its bright yellow eyes pierced mine. I thought I was going to die. As soon as my large, Sapien brain caught up with what was happening, I realized that was unlikely. The owl was a juvenile great horned, and wasn’t nearly large enough to do any lasting damage.
But when it looked at me I felt a visceral fear that only prey catching the attention of a stone-cold predator feel. This bird was honed, generation after generation, to become silent, fast and deadly. My body felt it. The evolution in me recognized the evolution in him.
And in that moment, I decided I couldn’t* kill it.
I mean, I was physically capable of it. This particular owl had spent the last several days climbing through small holes in the aerial netting over our chicken coop and killing our laying hens. I had reason. He had cost me time and money and more chickens were going to die if I didn’t do something. He had got his talons caught in the aerial netting and was hanging there, upside down and at a distinct disadvantage.
But when he swiveled around and looked at me with those sharp eyes, and I felt that awe and fear in my stomach, I knew he had been made for this. He was the ultimate predator, and was using his nature to its full advantage. And I couldn’t fault him for that. I felt that power, and I wouldn’t take it away.
But I could repair my netting.
*All birds of prey are protected by law in the United States. It’s illegal to kill, molest or possess them in any way (sometimes even their feathers).
