Did you ever wake up and think, today there will be a rare bird typically known to live in the Arctic who will be perched on a suburban roof in Orange County, California, thousands of miles away from her usual habitat?
Me neither. And yet, this bizarre occurrence happened just at the tail end of 2022. When my cousin Bethany (whose master’s thesis happened to focus on the songs of hummingbirds) saw the news that a snowy owl had taken up residence in a nearby Orange County neighborhood a mere 30 minutes away from us, we began scheming. We planned to get her kids up the next morning around 7:30, pile into the van, and set out to see the marvel for ourselves. The bird’s appearance was truly a mystery, but whatever was happening, we wanted to be a part of it.
On the way there, Wade, Bethany’s husband, saw a street sign for “Wild Goose St.” “Uh oh, bad sign,” he shook his head. He was no stranger to birding adventures with Bethany, sometimes landing right in the middle of yes, wild goose chases. In the back, Benjamin, Peter, and Eleanor and I held out hope this wasn’t true, but we steeled ourselves.
And then … to our relief and delight, as we rounded the corner of a street in a Cypress neighborhood, Bethany exclaimed, “There it is!” Perched elegantly on a roof was the now famed snowy owl. In fact, no wild geese were involved.
After parking, we trekked over, and stood on the sidewalk with about 40 others, most with tripods and cameras sporting massive lenses. A hush seemed to ripple within the crowd, aware we were seeing something we had never anticipated. We took pictures and video, and we peered through our binoculars for a closer look. Listening to the quiet chatter of the group, we caught the fact that this was a female bird. We were captivated. The gathered group didn’t appear to know one another, but there was an invisible connection running throughout the crowd, perhaps due to that feathery, magical link of the snowy owl. One resident commented that being in the presence of the owl was like a spiritual experience.
Later, as I reflected on the mystery and wonder of that drizzly southern California day, I discovered a small gem that seems important for 2023. What if we made the decision to step into each day with a radical anticipation of good things happening? Maybe even unexpected joy and wonder.
I’m fed up with fear and expecting bad news. There are difficulties, yes, And sad things. The breaking down of relationships. The loss of those dear to us. But I’ve found I have a choice in how much control I give to worry and stress, and worry is a waste of energy. There’s also that tendency we know all too well — the tendency to get offended. What a wonderful thing if I decided I won’t get caught in the traffic jam of offense. To let go of offense the minute I’m aware of its creeping shadow.
Instead, I could devote more energy to anticipating glorious surprises and appreciating simple joys. Like the snowy owl. Like the comfort of good friends who stop by for a cup of tea or call for a book recommendation. Like being able to write this column for the next year — now that sets 2023 apart for me as a winner immediately.
There’s good advice in one of the children’s books I focused on for my doctoral work in children’s literature, “The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane” by Kate DiCamillo: “You must be filled with expectancy. You must be awash in hope. You must wonder who will love you, whom you will love next.”
The flight path of the snowy owl landed her in a place far from home, and it remains a mystery how she arrived there. As of several days ago, the owl has vanished from the neighborhood, maybe journeying back to the Arctic or to some other destination.
Perhaps the year’s conclusion with the snowy owl was meant to position me for my own marvelous journey in 2023 — that even in the midst of difficulties and sadness, there’s a trail of expectation for more of the wonder, the awe, yes, even the miraculous, on the flight path ahead.
You can reach Katie Posey at teachingbeyondthebooks@gmail.com
