Return to the Night Owl

Authors note: Everything I write about the airplane crash is true and actually happened as I describe it. The crash occurred in Arizona about 25 years ago. We were traveling to Mexico with our good friends, when we suddenly iced up at night, the motor killed because of the ice and we went down like a lead balloon in the desert mountains of Arizona. There were two couples, and five of our kids, nine in all on the airplane. The story of the owl keeping me alive during the night is a work of fiction.

Return of the Night Owl

It was dark at night with freezing temperatures and no visibility as we flew to Mexico in a private plan owned by our good friend Doug. Suddenly our worst fears became our living reality. The airplane had completely iced up at 10,000 feet, the motor died and although Doug the pilot tried, he could not restart it. Surprisingly, Doug was able to get the plane to glide after pulling out of a tail spin—a rather strange miracle considering that the rudder was barely functioning due to ice. The entire plane was shaking and making awful noises as we glided at a tremendous speed, well over 100 miles per hour as we descended down to crash in the mountains of Arizona.

Could I accept my death in the next 4-5 minutes (the time to glide from 10K feet to 2K feet), ground level. No one survives a plane crash in the mountains at night, especially in a barely functioning plane covered in ice with no motor. The answer is quite strange. I could accept my death, but not the death of my wife Helen in the back and my young daughter and son. Considering their death, I ceased to breathe and I had to tell my heart to keep beating. I was flying co-pilot and was trying to wipe the windows for Doug the pilot. Without power the windows had fogged in the freezing temperatures. We were encased in a tomb of ice. It may have become a real tomb for us since there was a high probability we would all die in the coming minutes. The instruments were powered by battery and enabled Doug to keep the plane gliding, howbeit at a steeper pitch and with much more speed than normal.

Prior to hitting up-sloping terrain, for some reason Doug pulled back on the yoke, and had not lowered the landing gear. Had he done either the plane would have been in pieces and so would we. The belly of the plane hit hard on the ground making a large crater, bounced 70 yards, and then hit trees and scrubs, spun around and embedded the tail of the plane in a saguaro cactus. The front cowling and the motor were ripped out and laying on the dirt.

Doug and I were unconscious and critically injured. Our wives and kids in the back had some broken bones and bruises, but were essentially ok. There was chaos at first as they all climbed out of the plane, but they soon discovered that the plane would not catch fire and after stepping into cacti and nearly freezing in the rain, they decided to get back in the plane to for Doug and me the best they could.

There was not much they could do for Doug except to treat the serious wounds on his face, stop the bleeding and try to make him comfortable. They did the same for me. We had both splattered a lot of blood all over the cockpit. I had a large laceration nearly the length of my head. They assumed we had broken bones, including broken necks and backs, which we did. I had about 15 broken bones in all including my neck, back, ribs, and leg. My right lung was crushed, my ribs broken and I could barely breathe. Our wives wisely opened my door which opens onto the wing. They very gently pulled me out on the wing and wrapped me in a tarp to keep the rain off me. At this time, I began to gain some consciousness, but the pain and shock caused me to pass out again.

It was now dark and quiet, except for the sound of rain on a tin can. At least it sounded that way. The aluminum in the wings of an airplane is nearly as thin as a tin can, yet strong enough to lay my heavy frame on, so that my fifteen or so broken bones would be stable and not cut into my spinal cord. It required a tremendous presence of mind for Helen and Julie, (Julie had two broken legs) who were also in great pain, to open the door and very gently lay me onto the wing and wrap me in a tarp. They wanted to completely immobilize me as any movement could cause my broken bones to cut into my spinal column. I remember shaking, causing the light aluminum wing to vibrate slightly.

Was it really me lying out there that cold night on the wing of an airplane, or had I wandered off into the realms of dreams and illusion? It was a strange thought, yet it crossed my mind several times. Which would occur first, my death, Doug’s death, or a new day? Or would some heroic rescuers miraculously find us before daylight and somehow get us to a hospital? Where were we, anyway? Knowing my back, neck and ribs were probably broken because of severe pain and my lung collapsed, I wondered if we would ever see daylight gain. I could not hear Doug breathing and I feared the worst. A dark blanket of rain clouds shrouded the evening stars as I came in and out of consciousness. I prayed with real intent and some warmth and hope came over me.

I was wide awake at one point during the night. I had been staring at a large, maybe 15 foot tall saguaro cactus with large limbs sticking out like a forlorn scarecrow. As I looked at the cactus this time, something startled me and surprised me at the same time. On one of its limbs stood a large owl. It was beautiful and majestic all at once. I remembered after hitting a large owl in our pick-up truck and losing our entire front windshield. I did some research and discovered that male barn owls can be over 16 inches tall with a 40-inch wingspan. They are tan on top and have mostly white below with heart shaped faces and intense black eyes. Females are covered with spots.

The owl I was looking at from the wing of the plane was definitely a male because he was quite large and did not have the characteristic spots that females have. I immediately gave him a name, Mr. Owl. I was overcome with surprise and curiosity. He stared right into my eyes with his penetrating, almost black eyes. I could not see pupils. It was almost as we had made some kind of animalistic connection, and were communicating not by voice or sound, but by some sort of telescopic communication. It was as if he knew I was critically injured and may die during the night. It was as if he wanted me to live. He was acting as a sentinel guarding me, especially after a few coyotes came to check me out.

The owls’ eyes stared intently at me and said, “Your life is of great value. All lives are. You have much to live for. You have your children, wife, friends, community, extended family. With your substantial injuries, it will be hard enough on all of your loved ones, without you dying. So don’t die out here in the middle of nowhere. I will watch over you this night. Me and my brethren have put out a message to the universe for people to rescue you and get you help and to ensure that you will live. The majestic owl with huge black eyes continued to stare at me. At times he would turn his head at a complete right angle, I think to organize his thoughts. And then he would again stare directly into my eyes with a penetration I have never known. It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words, but I realized this awful, fateful night that penetrating eyes are worth more, perhaps millions of words.

I knew he had more to say, and this is what those eyes said to me. “Take heed to what I am about to communicate to you. You have lived nearly a half of a century. You have accomplished a great deal during this time. Perhaps you do not acknowledge this and will not take credit for your achievements, but nonetheless you have created a wonderful life for yourself and your people. I know you love your six children with all your soul, but please recognize that they love you every bit as much. They need you. They desire nothing more in life that to grow old with ole’ POPS, and to enjoy your company, not to mention your counsel.

What about Helen your beautiful wife? You found your closest friend, confident, and kindred spirit, not to mention your lover. You have always been and always will be wildly attracted to her. Your cup runneth over with her love for you. Dare you upset her life? Dare you upset this wonderful union that God freely gave to you and her? Her life would never be the same, and she would have to live with a deep wound the rest of her life. She would have to share this wound with your kid’s wounds.

Now, Randy, it is time for you to dig deep into your soul and discover once again the essence of your being, your primordial self. Your life quest has been to know who you are at your very core. Now is the time to grab on to this knowledge and drink it in as a man dying of thirst in this desert would do with new found water. You have so much more to accomplish, to experience. This planet on which we live and share has much to offer you, much beauty and richness to impart to you, much joy and happiness for you to experience, and of course difficult lessons to teach you, like this difficult lesson you are experiencing this night.

Hours passed. I may have passed out from time to time due to the intense pain in my back, neck, lung and ribs. Some things like my broken tail bone and leg did not bother me. The greatest pain negates minor pains. Every time I opened my eyes I could see this feathery heart-shaped head and two huge, dark eyes staring at me like he was looking directly into my soul and was uncovering things that I did not even know myself. This same profound and succinct message repeated itself. Finally, I gave in. Not just a little, but with all my heart and soul. “Mr. owl, you are one hundred percent correct with everything you have communicated to me! I accept your counsel. I accept every word. I love you for being with me this dreadful night. I will be forever grateful to you, and will remember you and your love for me the rest of my live.”

No sooner had I spoken these heartfelt words to Mr. Owl, when I saw bright bluish lights off in the distance. This light awakened my entire being. I turned to Owl and he was gone. I cried out, “where are you? Don’t leave me!” It was almost a whisper, but I could clearly hear Mr. Owl saying, “There are others here now to care for you. They are professionals. My time is past.”

As I watched Helen collapse in the arms of one of the rescuers, I whispered to Mr. Owl, “Yes, we will be under good care, but please visit me again someday.”

The team of the Civil Air Patrol, the paramedics, and the local sheriff’s department did a phenomenal job treating us. They laid me on a hard board and wrapped me up with straps and duct tape. They had put an air brace on my neck. I heard one of the rescuers say, “When I opened the door to the rear of the plane, I saw ten young small eyes staring at me. I could not breathe, let alone speak for fear of disturbing this incredible, sacred moment. You see, in all my years I have never found living souls at the sight of the plane crashes I have been to.”

As I laid in the sand on my hard board next to Helen who was also strapped to a hardboard, I heard Helen say to me as she put her hand on my arm, “Thanks sweetheart, for not dying.” I heard another professional say, “The big life flights from phoenix will not attempt to fly in here because the weather is too bad and the terrain too rough. So, a gutsy helicopter pilot who had been out searching for our plane all night said to the men, “Set up come flares and I am coming in. My chopper is nearby. I hope I have enough fuel.”

He did indeed fly us to a nearby town fifteen miles away, where the big life flights came in and flew us to trauma centers in phoenix. This saved the pilot Doug’s and my life. All nine passengers lived and eventually recovered.

I was in the hospital in phoenix for over a month and then in a hospital bed and wheel chair in my home for months, but have recovered nearly 100%. Of great importance is that I am again with my six children and beloved wife, which are my greatest treasures. And yes, life is good. It is beyond good, it is wonderful.

From time to time, I think about Mr. Owl. I envision him and try to recall every thought he shared with me. I hoped that he would visit me, but knowing I am in a different state, Utah in lieu of Arizona, I know it is impossible. But then the other day as I was looking out from our back deck at some of our pine trees, I was taken back by the sight of a large owl standing proudly on a branch. He seemed larger than my Mr. Owl, but had the same huge dark eyes. We stared at each other for over an hour, and then he flew away. He may have been one of the brethren. It was a breathtaking moment in my life, and reminded me of a very special dark, cold night in the desert mountains of Arizona.

Authors note: Everything I write about the airplane crash is true and actually happened as I describe it. The crash occurred in Arizona about 25 years ago. We were traveling to Mexico with our good friends, when we suddenly iced up at night, the motor killed because of the ice and we went down like a lead balloon in the desert mountains of Arizona. There were two couples, and five of our kids, nine in all on the airplane. The story of the owl keeping me alive during the night is a work of fiction.

Return of the Night Owl

It was dark at night with freezing temperatures and no visibility as we flew to Mexico in a private plan owned by our good friend Doug. Suddenly our worst fears became our living reality. The airplane had completely iced up at 10,000 feet, the motor died and although Doug the pilot tried, he could not restart it. Surprisingly, Doug was able to get the plane to glide after pulling out of a tail spin—a rather strange miracle considering that the rudder was barely functioning due to ice. The entire plane was shaking and making awful noises as we glided at a tremendous speed, well over 100 miles per hour as we descended down to crash in the mountains of Arizona.

Could I accept my death in the next 4-5 minutes (the time to glide from 10K feet to 2K feet), ground level. No one survives a plane crash in the mountains at night, especially in a barely functioning plane covered in ice with no motor. The answer is quite strange. I could accept my death, but not the death of my wife Helen in the back and my young daughter and son. Considering their death, I ceased to breathe and I had to tell my heart to keep beating. I was flying co-pilot and was trying to wipe the windows for Doug the pilot. Without power the windows had fogged in the freezing temperatures. We were encased in a tomb of ice. It may have become a real tomb for us since there was a high probability we would all die in the coming minutes. The instruments were powered by battery and enabled Doug to keep the plane gliding, howbeit at a steeper pitch and with much more speed than normal.

Prior to hitting up-sloping terrain, for some reason Doug pulled back on the yoke, and had not lowered the landing gear. Had he done either the plane would have been in pieces and so would we. The belly of the plane hit hard on the ground making a large crater, bounced 70 yards, and then hit trees and scrubs, spun around and embedded the tail of the plane in a saguaro cactus. The front cowling and the motor were ripped out and laying on the dirt.

Doug and I were unconscious and critically injured. Our wives and kids in the back had some broken bones and bruises, but were essentially ok. There was chaos at first as they all climbed out of the plane, but they soon discovered that the plane would not catch fire and after stepping into cacti and nearly freezing in the rain, they decided to get back in the plane to for Doug and me the best they could.

There was not much they could do for Doug except to treat the serious wounds on his face, stop the bleeding and try to make him comfortable. They did the same for me. We had both splattered a lot of blood all over the cockpit. I had a large laceration nearly the length of my head. They assumed we had broken bones, including broken necks and backs, which we did. I had about 15 broken bones in all including my neck, back, ribs, and leg. My right lung was crushed, my ribs broken and I could barely breathe. Our wives wisely opened my door which opens onto the wing. They very gently pulled me out on the wing and wrapped me in a tarp to keep the rain off me. At this time, I began to gain some consciousness, but the pain and shock caused me to pass out again.

It was now dark and quiet, except for the sound of rain on a tin can. At least it sounded that way. The aluminum in the wings of an airplane is nearly as thin as a tin can, yet strong enough to lay my heavy frame on, so that my fifteen or so broken bones would be stable and not cut into my spinal cord. It required a tremendous presence of mind for Helen and Julie, (Julie had two broken legs) who were also in great pain, to open the door and very gently lay me onto the wing and wrap me in a tarp. They wanted to completely immobilize me as any movement could cause my broken bones to cut into my spinal column. I remember shaking, causing the light aluminum wing to vibrate slightly.

Was it really me lying out there that cold night on the wing of an airplane, or had I wandered off into the realms of dreams and illusion? It was a strange thought, yet it crossed my mind several times. Which would occur first, my death, Doug’s death, or a new day? Or would some heroic rescuers miraculously find us before daylight and somehow get us to a hospital? Where were we, anyway? Knowing my back, neck and ribs were probably broken because of severe pain and my lung collapsed, I wondered if we would ever see daylight gain. I could not hear Doug breathing and I feared the worst. A dark blanket of rain clouds shrouded the evening stars as I came in and out of consciousness. I prayed with real intent and some warmth and hope came over me.

I was wide awake at one point during the night. I had been staring at a large, maybe 15 foot tall saguaro cactus with large limbs sticking out like a forlorn scarecrow. As I looked at the cactus this time, something startled me and surprised me at the same time. On one of its limbs stood a large owl. It was beautiful and majestic all at once. I remembered after hitting a large owl in our pick-up truck and losing our entire front windshield. I did some research and discovered that male barn owls can be over 16 inches tall with a 40-inch wingspan. They are tan on top and have mostly white below with heart shaped faces and intense black eyes. Females are covered with spots.

The owl I was looking at from the wing of the plane was definitely a male because he was quite large and did not have the characteristic spots that females have. I immediately gave him a name, Mr. Owl. I was overcome with surprise and curiosity. He stared right into my eyes with his penetrating, almost black eyes. I could not see pupils. It was almost as we had made some kind of animalistic connection, and were communicating not by voice or sound, but by some sort of telescopic communication. It was as if he knew I was critically injured and may die during the night. It was as if he wanted me to live. He was acting as a sentinel guarding me, especially after a few coyotes came to check me out.

The owls’ eyes stared intently at me and said, “Your life is of great value. All lives are. You have much to live for. You have your children, wife, friends, community, extended family. With your substantial injuries, it will be hard enough on all of your loved ones, without you dying. So don’t die out here in the middle of nowhere. I will watch over you this night. Me and my brethren have put out a message to the universe for people to rescue you and get you help and to ensure that you will live. The majestic owl with huge black eyes continued to stare at me. At times he would turn his head at a complete right angle, I think to organize his thoughts. And then he would again stare directly into my eyes with a penetration I have never known. It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words, but I realized this awful, fateful night that penetrating eyes are worth more, perhaps millions of words.

I knew he had more to say, and this is what those eyes said to me. “Take heed to what I am about to communicate to you. You have lived nearly a half of a century. You have accomplished a great deal during this time. Perhaps you do not acknowledge this and will not take credit for your achievements, but nonetheless you have created a wonderful life for yourself and your people. I know you love your six children with all your soul, but please recognize that they love you every bit as much. They need you. They desire nothing more in life that to grow old with ole’ POPS, and to enjoy your company, not to mention your counsel.

What about Helen your beautiful wife? You found your closest friend, confident, and kindred spirit, not to mention your lover. You have always been and always will be wildly attracted to her. Your cup runneth over with her love for you. Dare you upset her life? Dare you upset this wonderful union that God freely gave to you and her? Her life would never be the same, and she would have to live with a deep wound the rest of her life. She would have to share this wound with your kid’s wounds.

Now, Randy, it is time for you to dig deep into your soul and discover once again the essence of your being, your primordial self. Your life quest has been to know who you are at your very core. Now is the time to grab on to this knowledge and drink it in as a man dying of thirst in this desert would do with new found water. You have so much more to accomplish, to experience. This planet on which we live and share has much to offer you, much beauty and richness to impart to you, much joy and happiness for you to experience, and of course difficult lessons to teach you, like this difficult lesson you are experiencing this night.

Hours passed. I may have passed out from time to time due to the intense pain in my back, neck, lung and ribs. Some things like my broken tail bone and leg did not bother me. The greatest pain negates minor pains. Every time I opened my eyes I could see this feathery heart-shaped head and two huge, dark eyes staring at me like he was looking directly into my soul and was uncovering things that I did not even know myself. This same profound and succinct message repeated itself. Finally, I gave in. Not just a little, but with all my heart and soul. “Mr. owl, you are one hundred percent correct with everything you have communicated to me! I accept your counsel. I accept every word. I love you for being with me this dreadful night. I will be forever grateful to you, and will remember you and your love for me the rest of my live.”

No sooner had I spoken these heartfelt words to Mr. Owl, when I saw bright bluish lights off in the distance. This light awakened my entire being. I turned to Owl and he was gone. I cried out, “where are you? Don’t leave me!” It was almost a whisper, but I could clearly hear Mr. Owl saying, “There are others here now to care for you. They are professionals. My time is past.”

As I watched Helen collapse in the arms of one of the rescuers, I whispered to Mr. Owl, “Yes, we will be under good care, but please visit me again someday.”

The team of the Civil Air Patrol, the paramedics, and the local sheriff’s department did a phenomenal job treating us. They laid me on a hard board and wrapped me up with straps and duct tape. They had put an air brace on my neck. I heard one of the rescuers say, “When I opened the door to the rear of the plane, I saw ten young small eyes staring at me. I could not breathe, let alone speak for fear of disturbing this incredible, sacred moment. You see, in all my years I have never found living souls at the sight of the plane crashes I have been to.”

As I laid in the sand on my hard board next to Helen who was also strapped to a hardboard, I heard Helen say to me as she put her hand on my arm, “Thanks sweetheart, for not dying.” I heard another professional say, “The big life flights from phoenix will not attempt to fly in here because the weather is too bad and the terrain too rough. So, a gutsy helicopter pilot who had been out searching for our plane all night said to the men, “Set up come flares and I am coming in. My chopper is nearby. I hope I have enough fuel.”

He did indeed fly us to a nearby town fifteen miles away, where the big life flights came in and flew us to trauma centers in phoenix. This saved the pilot Doug’s and my life. All nine passengers lived and eventually recovered.

I was in the hospital in phoenix for over a month and then in a hospital bed and wheel chair in my home for months, but have recovered nearly 100%. Of great importance is that I am again with my six children and beloved wife, which are my greatest treasures. And yes, life is good. It is beyond good, it is wonderful.

From time to time, I think about Mr. Owl. I envision him and try to recall every thought he shared with me. I hoped that he would visit me, but knowing I am in a different state, Utah in lieu of Arizona, I know it is impossible. But then the other day as I was looking out from our back deck at some of our pine trees, I was taken back by the sight of a large owl standing proudly on a branch. He seemed larger than my Mr. Owl, but had the same huge dark eyes. We stared at each other for over an hour, and then he flew away. He may have been one of the brethren. It was a breathtaking moment in my life, and reminded me of a very special dark, cold night in the desert mountains of Arizona.