Owls are impressive birds. They're viewed as fascinating and intelligent.
They instill respect and sometimes fear. In some cultures they're viewed as harbingers
of sorcery, ill omen or even death; it is thought an owl shrieking on someone's
roof means someone in that house will die soon. But, occasional morbid
reputation aside, most people think highly of them. They’re an icon of wisdom.
Their big heads and big eyes are considered signs of superior intelligence. In
stories they're often depicting old, wise characters. Their hypnotic but kind
eyes, low voice and aura of mystery gain people's trust and respect for their
judgment, which they often seek at times of doubt or grief. Nocturnal and
solitary, they're not accessible to the non-initiated.
On top of their wisdom, some species are stunning specimens. Sometimes silvery or snow-white, their majestic plumage and aristocratic posture are a treat for any eye lucky to catch a glimpse. There is something almost magical about them, either in mid-flight or while dozing serenely on a branch, deep in the heart of the woods.
Most of them are grey and plain, though. And ugly. Their posture is forced and distorted and it’s there only to impress the weak. Their big eyes leave a little room for a little brain that can be only bothered with menial tasks like not knocking their big head against a tree while flapping around and looking for the occasional rodent to feast upon. They're vile and savage like a cheap predator. If any human feeling were to be wasted on them, it would be contempt or embarrassed pity. On more careful observation it's not hard to notice the cheap and fake shiny image, the shallowness behind the magniloquent talk and pompous feathers, the obsessed fixation on a fat juicy victim, the aggressive way they yell at their shiny cells in the office, in the restaurant or in the car. You see all the loud talk is only to cover the fear of missing the (quarterly) target, of seeing that juicy victim running away, of the fat percentage escaping from their talons in another salesperson's pocket.
Well, I say salespeople; I was thinking of owls. I know, I know, if you read again... But still, hmmm, what a strange coincidence!
Disclaimer: no sales people were harmed during the writing of this story. But on the other hand, when have they ever been on time for anything?
On top of their wisdom, some species are stunning specimens. Sometimes silvery or snow-white, their majestic plumage and aristocratic posture are a treat for any eye lucky to catch a glimpse. There is something almost magical about them, either in mid-flight or while dozing serenely on a branch, deep in the heart of the woods.
Most of them are grey and plain, though. And ugly. Their posture is forced and distorted and it’s there only to impress the weak. Their big eyes leave a little room for a little brain that can be only bothered with menial tasks like not knocking their big head against a tree while flapping around and looking for the occasional rodent to feast upon. They're vile and savage like a cheap predator. If any human feeling were to be wasted on them, it would be contempt or embarrassed pity. On more careful observation it's not hard to notice the cheap and fake shiny image, the shallowness behind the magniloquent talk and pompous feathers, the obsessed fixation on a fat juicy victim, the aggressive way they yell at their shiny cells in the office, in the restaurant or in the car. You see all the loud talk is only to cover the fear of missing the (quarterly) target, of seeing that juicy victim running away, of the fat percentage escaping from their talons in another salesperson's pocket.
Well, I say salespeople; I was thinking of owls. I know, I know, if you read again... But still, hmmm, what a strange coincidence!
Disclaimer: no sales people were harmed during the writing of this story. But on the other hand, when have they ever been on time for anything?
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