I heard the owl call my name

      "The Hunter,," 6 x 6 acrylic on gallery-wrapped canvas

Owls have called my name.

 There's an old Northwest Native American  legend that if you hear an owl call your name, get ready to die. There's a wonderful book by that title about a missionary to the Northwest  who that happens to.

For me, though, the sound of an owl is life-giving.  Maybe they weren't calling my name?

Most recently, I heard what I thought was an owl on an afternoon walk in Hafer park. I hope it was not a person's fake technology.

More importantly to me now that ever is try daughter Falls Bell's Burrowing Owl Bookstores in Canyon and Amarillo, where you can find dozens, literally, of different owl images and c creations, and of course, books.

Before that though, I loved the sound of owls when camping out, or in even Oklahoma City, hearing them outside the window with my love.

I've read about them many times, about their sounds, their biologics, their behaviors, their interactions with us...always remind us that they are creatures of prey, of wonderment, of questions.

Thus today's acrylic, at Edmond Vibes next Thursday and thereafter at In Your Eye Studio and Gallery. 

Have you heard them call your name?