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The transitions of Mister.
4:44 AM in the republic of Georgia As I am gazing at the stars through my binoculars, hoping to find a shooting star. I decided this would be the perfect time to take off my vintage converse covered in dirt from the log cabin in which I stayed a few miles away from the open field covered with trees. It's almost a pleasant reminder grounding is good for the spirit. As I relax a little more suddenly, I heard what sounds like a " screaming woman." I instantly remember the voice of my life coach, saying, " when you're afraid, sit in a quiet place and allow yourself to discover peace. I did just that, considering I'm out in the woods to heal and gather my sense of security. Can I tune out the sounds of this screaming woman? I know the right thing to do would be to help her. However, I knew that I wasn't fully equipped to support this screaming woman from whatever was making her scream. I'm afraid. Shortly after tuning out this cry for help, I noticed these screeching sounds didn't stop. I suddenly asked myself, " wait, maybe that isn't the cry of a woman, could this be an animal? " Oh no, a scared animal just as myself out in the woods crying for help. I must help. Besides, it can't hurt me. It's hurting, as I said to myself, making a conscious decision to allow. I pulled out my compass, and I navigate to the sounds. Three miles away in the woodland nearby the lake, I see a lanky, shy owl with big black eyes and long legs. I was terrified. I mean, my gosh, this owl looked freaked out but so did I by the look on my face, wondering when his mom and dad would come back to feed it. I decided how I would feel knowing that I'm crying out from hunger, and others pass me out of fear? Instead, I used my compass dug up worms in from the muddy pasty Mud, where my lanky feet pressed down. I tried to be as calming as possible, providing a warming embrace so that he wouldn't be so shy. Mister is what I called him, feeding mister from the palms of my shaky hands. He warmed up to me shortly after that, he and I fell asleep from the peaceful sounds from the lake nearby. The sounds of birds flying over my eyes woke me up. I think it's his parents, but it wasn't just a couple of birds looking to get a sip of water from the fresh stream. After getting a good look at mister, I thought, my gosh, aren't you a dirty little fellow? Mister appeared to be abandoned and scared. I took a deep breath and placed out my right palm inviting mister to embrace me. We went into a real deep stare. I'm thinking to myself, mister; I am freaking out right now. Can we please stop staring at one another? Mister began to flap his wings as if he were going to fly away; suddenly, I noticed a little twig in his wing, which instantly melted my heart. Oh no! Mister, your hurt; I would like to help you; I would like to slowly pull this twig from your strong wing. I gathered freshwater from down by the steam after praying to the water that this may heal mister and remove my fear from those big black eyes. We drank the water he and I became relaxed. I prayed that mister would be okay and have a speedy recovery. I also prayed that I wouldn't hurt him. Slowly and carefully approaching mister's hurting wing, I can see the pain in his eyes as I politely pull this twig out. Mister screeched for 8 seconds, but between you and me, that screech was so loud I could've sworn it lasted longer than 8 seconds by the ringing in my ears. The energy around us shifted almost instantly. I felt mister being so relieved that he was no longer attached to the twig that kept him bound. I packed mister in my oversized Madewell cotton T-shirt, and I walked us back to my cozy log cabin, where I had a variety of items needed to assist with giving mister the required proper transition. We make it back to my comfortable little cottage that smells like fresh vanilla and lavender essential oils eight minutes later. Opening my shirt, I notice mister is sleeping sound. I place mister on my soft knit scarves made by my first cousin setting the intentions that he feels the same love intended for me to have within. I proceed to place out whatever I could find in the fridge for when he wakes up. I then take care of myself, grabbing a sweet orange candle. Turning on the shower outdoors, rinsing off the Mud between my toes, preparing for a nice soak to reflect on many adversities mister, and I accomplished and how mister reminded me of myself and how mister allowed me to be a genuine human and help us both heal. Mentally I'm just in awe mister has to be the most relaxed owl I've ever met. considering mister is the only owl I've ever allowed to meet me. While running my water adding sea salt, I decided to pull out my apple iPhone doing more research on mister and how I could be of assistance during this time. I discovered that mister is a barn owl who is a silent predator of the night, who consumes songbirds and ground-dwelling. I immediately sit down as I am engaged in where my findings lead me. I found that barn owls abandon their eggs, and I shed a tear, thinking to myself, oh no, that mister was all alone, and I wanted to shut him out due to fear I was horrible. After that, I put my phone down and spoke out loud. I release any feeling of fear, and this emotion leaves me as soon as I step foot in this water. after my soak, I drifted off to sleep on the couch near mister, letting him feel that I wouldn't leave him.
By Lane’s Legacy5 years ago in Petlife
12:03 AM
Start 12:03 AM. This is a predator. Something is watching, and stalking just outside view. Long, fingered leaves blot the otherwise unobstructed Moon, and high grass provides exquisite concealment. For this prey is observant, and only perfect camouflage will allow success in the hunt. A slight wisp in breathing or twitch of an ear could alert the whole land, and expose cover. But this hunter is perfect. Thousands upon thousands of generations have lived all nine lives, just for the instance of now. Coiled legs and thorn-sharp eyes, a cat in the night is unrivaled as the pinnacle of creation. The apex of the garden, this cat is untempted by the millions of senses tripping every wire of perception. In the far corner behind, next to the largest fencepost, a frog bathes in groundwater. At the base of the house rainpipe, two mice reach to sip the collected moisture, then scurry back around the corner and underground. Upstairs, the family dogs toss legs in dreamful speed. The local barn owl, second only to feline majesty at nocturnal excellence, turns head one way, and then another. A single wingbeat is all even the cat hears, as the mutually respected entity seeks fulfilment in the night. But none of these matter, for the prize is dead ahead. The cat has observed such a figure for days now, always careful to gather times of rising, yet never to tip-off the ultimate end: a clash, in which the child of tigers would surely triumph! Invisible, the air breathes over such a vast garden. A leaf slips hold from some branch far above, twirling, dancing, toward the grassy audience ever nearing. Expecting and confident, one paw times with the pale-green setdown, and the cat is closer to apex. It is only a matter of waiting, and with prowess of every lord from deserts to jungles, this feline warrior has time. A crack! The moment is arrived! A tail lashes without sound. One pounce, and claws will meet their prey. Yet even a creature so magnificent must be careful, for though a battle is to be won, a precision strike would best serve to end the struggle quickly, or else the target can still fight. There! Arising from a den of noir, the Backyard Beast rears a head as if to subjugate the garden. Defense of home and honor flaring, the pride of evolution holds no longer: the cat charges! Fiendish hissing strikes back like lightning, but Garden Guardian is unphased. Launching a tackle on the monster, it holds fast, spitting cold fury to retaliate! In a heartbeat rebound, the feline warrior hits low. Fangs glance off dark armor, but leveraged hindclaws rip at the crackling intruder! Frigid moisture spurts from the head- the only side not shielded by thick, slippery hide. The victim spins, reaching narrow body higher still. At once, the long, rounded enemy blasts the cat with icy mist! The last chance is here. A jaguar, diving into the river, a single bound must kill the prey! Legs dug in place, shoulders hoisting, sharp jaws rip one final time! Snap! Rock-hard skin broken, the fighting monster skids and falls limp. Freezing water gushing from the den where it had lie, the warrior cat growls in triumphant notice for all to hear, and witness. Nature has borne the cardinal virtue of excellence, and lives to stalk the garden once more.
By Ryan Barrett5 years ago in Petlife
Pangolins
Introduction Pangolins are the only mammals to have scales. The scales of pangolins are very strong; when they are threatened pangolins curl into a ball to protect themselves and can withstand an attack from a lion or tiger. There are 8 species of pangolins, 4 in Africa and 4 in Asia. There are pangolins in rainforests, woodlands, swamps and savannas. Pangolins are sometimes referred to as “scaly anteaters” or “walking pinecones.” All species of pangolins are endangered.
By Buck Hardcastle5 years ago in Petlife
The Owl
The Owl Living on a farm you can see the most fascinating events while walking in nature. You see there is a very thick woods near our property. I am so happy that we live in the country and by this amazing stretch of wooded area. I have this small farm where my family grow vegetables for the farmer’s market in town. We have fun doing this and the kids love their sheep and horses that they received as Christmas gifts. My wife and I have five children between the ages of 7 to 17. Ben our oldest will start college next year and he wants to be a lawyer, his inspiration is Abraham Lincoln. Diana our second child is a sophomore and does not know what she wants to be. There is Chad, who is in middle school and is on the football team, he wants to go pro. Sally and Steven the twins, they are in grade school. They love their lambs that they receive for their birthday. Life is hard on the farm, but it is so rewarding.
By Walter Murphy5 years ago in Petlife
I was adopted by a cat....
So I was adopted by a cat. It was the winter of 2019...a simpler time before the chaos of 2020 and my dad spotted a small gray cat in our backyard. He said that she was as feral as could be, a stray that was only a few months old. Six or seven months at best.
By Liv Atterson5 years ago in Petlife
Alvia's journey: A Moon and a Half Ago
Alvia was sitting on a thick branch of a tall tree somewhere near the middle of the forest. She had been tirelessly feeding her chicks all night and it wasn't over yet. She had laid six eggs a full moon and a half ago and to her surprise, they'd all hatched, and now she had six hungry owlets to feed.
By Jamie Jackson5 years ago in Petlife
Just a Dog
Bulldogs. My father loved bulldogs. I’m not sure where this love came from, perhaps one of my siblings can enlighten me, but it has influenced me. I won’t say no to any dog, I love them all, but I have a particular affinity to the sad flat-nosed breeds known for all the horrible health issues. One of my most loved dogs was a pug.
By Frank Shaw5 years ago in Petlife
