Graycloak
The road is dark as we speed through curves, eyes trained far ahead of the high beams, expectantly waiting for the glowing eyes of deer, coyote, and jackrabbits to indicate our need to slow. But itās something else that causes us to brake and let out gasps ofĀ āwhoa!ā in perfect unison: A gray boulder in the middle of the road, which seems to grow larger as we grow nearer, the headlights from Thomasā Jeep illuminating the scene so suddenly that our eyes take a moment to adjust.Ā We come to an abrupt halt. The boulder suddenly shudders. A massive great-horned owl turns to face us, his gray feathers stirring like a sweeping cloak as he shuffles forward in persuit of something else on the road.Ā Itās a snake; small but quick, and the owl - torn between the need to feed and the want to flee - makes a split-second decision as Thomas and I watch in stunned silence. Graycloak lashes out with one booted foot to hold the snake down, then strikes a killing blow with his beak. The snake writhes and twists like a coiled rope released from its tension, but its dramatic throes do little to dissuade its feathered killer. The owl glances up at us, eyes flashing with an otherworldly blue-white light, and I feel as though thereās meaning to his gaze. Before I can begin to fathom what it may be, Graycloak suddenly unfurs his sturdy wings and takes flight, falling away from the starkly-lit scene with the same grace and permanence as a dream touched by dawn.Ā There is no sign of the life-and-death drama left in his wake. We take a moment to remember to breathe again, then slowly roll on. Ā Ā The road is empty now. Just as had been for miles before, and will be for miles ahead.











