White Owl Island

I spotted this owl on a recent visit to White Owl island.

It’s a collage made from torn newspaper.

Path of the Feather

“Viriginia, Oodgeroo, Emily” the Old Man in the Green Turban called the three writing owls that I had known back when I lived on my island. I placed my two wings in the palm of my hand. The feathers tickled and made me giggle- but then my giggle changed into a “tuwhoo tuwhoo” and I was an owl myself.

The Old Man in the Green Turban had turned into a giant tree and the three owls were seated on his branches. The tree whispered “fly” – I hesitated the tree boomed “fly” and so I flew and saw with Owl’s Eyes.

Above it all – I saw with the Owl’s Eyes- patterns made by rivers and lakes, mountains rising to peaks, orange soil sown for the coming crops, fields full of sleeping goats- and I felt my tummy rumble- and instinct kick in.

I saw a lighthouse and it was then that Viriginia the Owl flew down and I followed. I felt a bit off balance as we swooped down to the lighthouse. Flying and looking, flying and looking until I became the thing I looked at and I was looking at a tasty mouse- trying to break into the lighthouse. I swooped and grabbed and was satisfied with my feed.

I looked into the house and saw the ghost of a lady with a green shawl staring out at me – lost in her beauty and her sadness. I put my head to one side. Virginia and I perched on the tree as the lady with the green shawl came out to sit with us. Together we saw light, darkness, povery, wealth, wings, dust, leaves, and wind- it all swirled around us.

I was flying again, “tuwhoo, farewell Viriginia” this time I followed Oodgeroo- she took me to a place of stories dreaming the landscape. We followed the caterpillar in the mountains, taking flight into blue butterfly- we stopped and danced with the brolga. For a moment I became a human seeking to understand the story of how I became an owl- I danced an owl dance, and danced the owl into the landscape.

I listened to the landscape with Oodgeroo and reread her poems – and her lifestory. Grass roots solutions, education, how wise she was, before her time. No outside of time. I saw her flying with her son.

They were gone and I was now flying to the Ferry with Emily- Emily pouring hope into my feathers, and urging me to fly on to the wharf where the ferry waited. She sang her songs, her poems – and we swooped and settled back onto the tree man, the green turbaned old man, and my wings appeared back on my hand.

I stood at the base of the tree, for now the green turbaned man was gone, back into the soul of the island.

The Tree Man

(c) June Perkins all rights reserved.

For more of this adventure head to Unity’s Cabin

I decided at breakfast this morning that I would make a pilgrimage to see the renowned white owls that give the island its name.  I dug out some comfortable shoes, my sunhat and sunnies; made sure I had my walnut shell in my pocket, and set off.

I wandered towards the village and asked a few people for directions.  One young lady gave me a white feather.  ‘Just tune-in to this,’ she said, ‘and you can’t go wrong.  When you’re pointing in the right direction, it will vibrate slightly.’  I took it from her.  ‘Now, face that way,’ she said, pointing …………. Feel it?’  There was a very mild buzzing sensation in my fingers.  I smiled, ‘Yes, I can!  Thank you so much.’  After that I found my way quite easily.

I wandered through the village and made my way along a cobblestone path which rose gently as it left the dwellings behind.  As I progressed, the path got gradually steeper and the stones became larger in size.  It was becoming quite an ordeal, and I was getting thirsty.  I’d no sooner had the thought about a drink when I heard water tinkling, and was quite glad I’d been to the loo before I left.  There’s nothing like running water to set you off!!

I headed towards the sound and found a beautiful little rock pool full of crystal-clear, sparkling water.  The water was entering the pool from the beak of an owl that had been carved into a rock.  An inscription had been engraved into the rocks edging the pool, too.  It read:  Seekers of Wisdom must first drink from the fount of knowledge, and all shall be revealed. Hmm, I found that quite intriguing and I was also very thirsty so I cupped my hands and drank deep.  Nothing!  Nothing happened, so I sat there for a few minutes and took in the view.  I could see the ship at the dock and all the people looked like ants.

I took one last look at the pool before getting up and was amazed to see that the water had turned the colour of ink and was perfectly still.  ‘Magic!’ I thought, ‘how can you have still water with a fountain?’  I gazed into its depths and gazing back at me were the faces of three women.  The foremost one spoke, ‘We are the guardians of the owls.  What is your purpose?’
‘As a visitor to the island, I would like to see the magnificent birds that give it its name, and pay my respects.’
‘Look deep into my eyes,’ she said, ‘that I may see into your soul.’
So I did as I was told and she said, ‘Yes, your intentions are true, and your search for knowledge is endless.  You may continue on your quest.’  Then the faces disappeared and it was just a rock pool again.  I picked up my feather and turned around until it vibrated, then set off in that direction.

At the top of the next rise I looked down into a small valley.  There were a few flowering shrubs and one very large tree covered in white blossoms.  My feather seemed to be dancing in my fingers, so I headed into the valley.  As I got closer to the tree I could see that the blooms were not blooms at all, but white owls.  Hundreds of them, in various sizes.

In front of the tree was a large, flat rock and I sat myself down on it to study the tree and the owls.  Three of the largest owls swooped down and stood before me.  The middle one spoke, in a very upper-crust, haughty voice. (Under normal circumstances I would have found this rather disturbing, but I’ve decided to accept whatever this cruise has to offer).
‘Greetings, and welcome to our Parliament.’
‘Oh, is that what it is?’
‘Certainly!  What did you think it was?’
‘An Owlery?’
‘No, no!  You’re confusing us with rooks.  Rooks are nasty, black, noisy birds, not pristine like our goodselves.  No, this is a Parliament of Owls and I am the Prime Owlister.  My name is Sage.  My assistants here,’ he said, pointing with his wing at the other two, ‘are Sagacious and Perspicacity.  Why are you here?’
‘I don’t really know, except that I have always been a seeker of wisdom and, as the owl has always represented wisdom, I thought I would like to pay you homage.’
‘We know there have always been owls in your life – not live ones like us, but always images and ornaments, since you were small.’
‘Yes.  My father believed that having an owl in the house encouraged wisdom and learning.  We always had one on the mantlepiece.’
‘A very wise man, indeed!’
‘Yes, he was.’
‘Is there something you want from us?’
‘No.  I just wanted to see you for myself, and express my appreciation of your powers in the bestowing of wisdom.’
‘Well, thank you for taking the time to seek us out.  Go now, in peace and knowledge.’
‘Thank you.  I will leave this special feather in your keeping.’  I placed it on the rock; bowed low to the trio, and started on my journey back to the ship.  It’s funny how the journey home always seems much quicker than the one out. I seemed to be back in the village in no time at all.

When I reached the village I was dragged by the nostrils, and the smell of food, into a small cafe, where I dined royally on local seafood and a bottle of sparkling wine.  I hadn’t realised how hungry I was.  I chatted to the villagers as I ate my meal.  Everyone I’ve met has been so cheerful and kind.  I’m sure there will be another adventure waiting for me tomorrow.

A few years ago, I was faced with a major business decision about an opportunity that appeared on the surface to be very real. However, my gut felt a little tight with no explanation.

The night before the signing of the contract, I was invited to a friend’s house for dinner. She lived deep in the woods with a rough, narrow road leading to her place which was about 2 miles in from the main road. I loved going to her place — all the walls on the back side of the house were glass from floor to ceiling and faced a stream about 3ft wide. You had a strong feeling of being with the woods in the open floor plan and all the glass. It was like bringing the outside in and the inside out.

Though it was only 5 pm, it was dark already and there was hard, cold rain and biting winds. I turned left onto the road to begin the long journey through muddy and rough terrain to her house. With the rain, I was only able to drive about 5 miles an hour since I could barely see anything in front of the car.

The other thing I should mention about Jane’s house. She was a strong Earth activist and bought the house because she wanted to be surrounded by woods and to be near the wildlife sanctuary about 1/8 mile from the place. Books on nature, medicine wheels, Native American culture, new age and spiritual symbolism lined her shelves. As an Earth activist, it was the perfect living environment.

When I mentioned her road was narrow, I meant “really” narrow. It was an old dirt road, mostly mud. You can imagine then what it would be like driving on it during a torrential downpour. I just kept my eyes focused on what was in front of me and continued telling myself I would be okay (a self-talk approach I take when in uncomfortable situations).

Looking ahead, I thought I saw a white cat in the distance sitting in Jane’s driveway. It was one large cat! What the heck was it doing in the road — in the pouring rain?

Without warning, without time for any driving errors, my eyes were playing tricks. I thought I saw the cat flying away from the ground.

As I veered closer, something flew toward me as I pulled onto her driveway. Crud! I couldn’t make out what it was, but it appeared to be white as it headed straight for my windshield. Reaching my elbow up, I tried wiping the car window hoping to get a better view.

Jane stepped out the door onto her porch holding two umbrellas (in case I didn’t have one with me).

She must have seen what was flying towards the car because she moved out further onto the sidewalk. While watching Jane, I heard a sound and turned my head quickly back towards the front of the car window. Smack right in front of me was a large white owl with its wings spread wide and making the loudest sound. I thought I was going to hit it or that it was going to slam into the window.

Right before what could have been a tragic event, the white owl flew upwards and off towards Jane. It flew by the side of the house and into the woods. It all happened so fast!

Jane came running all the way out to greet me. Her umbrella was one of those golfing umbrellas so I opted to jump out of the car. Under cover, we ran to her door and entered.

Immediately, we both jabbered a mile a minute about what we witnessed. Jane ran over to her book shelf and grabbed one of her medicine books to look up white owl. We heated water for tea and sat down to read.

“White owls are messengers responsible for carrying wisdom,” it read. Further reading, it stated, “possess an uncanny ability to penetrate beyond the masks, untruths, white lies, and deceits of others in order to see to the truth of the matter, individual or experience.”

While sipping tea and listening to rain pounding the glass windows, we discussed what this could mean. Jane felt it was a protective warning. At that moment, I couldn’t imagine why I would need a protective warning. Eventually, we ate our dinner and spent the evening chatting about other things.

The next day, I woke up with that “in the pit of the stomach feeling” as I dressed for the meeting where I would sign a one year consulting contract offering a fat paycheck. I kept having flashbacks of the previous night — the white owl and what we read in the animal totem book.

Arriving a few minutes early, the receptionist felt it was okay to go ahead and sit me in the conference room. She left the door open. From where I sat, you could see an office door across the hall. I got myself a bottle of water and sat back down. Glancing out the door, I noticed two men standing there in conversation.

I wasn’t interested in hearing anything they were saying — was just making observations. A few moments into their conversation, one of them spoke a little louder. It was obvious that neither man was aware the conference door was opened or that I was sitting inside. I recognized one of them as the VP who was hiring me. I hadn’t met the other on any of the previous visits. He was the one who started raising his voice loud enough that I could make it what he was saying.

“Look, we’ll hire her now to get through this merger. If she doesn’t play by our rules and isn’t willing to cut corners we’ll figure a way to get rid of her and out of the contract with no loss to us.”

I sat there shaking in disbelief. The mind was racing, “Should I get up and leave now?” No. I waited. 10 minutes later, four men walked into the conference room and sat down. As they put the contract and an ink pen in front of me, I looked at all four men and in particular, the man who spoke in the hall.

Slowly, I stood up, thanked the men, declined the contract and walked out leaving them stunned and speechless. I didn’t owe any explanation. The white owl knew and appeared before me carrying wisdom. I’m glad I was protected from this company.

Thanks to the receptionist who, by the way, was wearing white.

Two weeks later, Jane called to tell me a white owl had gotten loose from the wildlife place the night of the rain and about the time I arrived to her house. She said they found the bird only 10 minutes after it had disappeared. He was found sitting on a tree limb outside the sanctuary.

Here on White Owl Island, I treasure the experience of other’s words and images. And, I shall always remember my experience of white owl’s wisdom.

– genece hamby, contemporary artist & poet