|When you got the proper glove on but it lands on your arm instead|
I feel like this should be a somewhat poetic post or something that resonates with you but really I just wanted to write a post about how much I love owls. I could pretend to be a better blogger by then delving deep into the philosophy behind this feeling; Is it because I love the way their soft feathers brush against my skin even though I cannot myself touch them? Or does it go even deeper and draws a connection with how I love the moonlight and how mysterious it can be?
Nope, I just love owls because they’re stupid.
|Barn owl – second time lucky!|
|Super cute but funny looking owl who’s species escapes me|
Whoever came up with the idea of the “wise old owl” was definitely high because I’m pretty sure that isn’t the case. Take this tawny owl, for example. The one that looks slightly grumpy on my hand. It couldn’t be bothered to fly to its post so it decided to walk instead. It was kind of cute the way it hopped over but it was supposed to shake its feathery wings and fly.
The other owls were slightly better although the hawk owl (or was it eagle owl?) did manage to go chasing after a bee and couldn’t figure out how to get to the other portal- I mean, the other side of the fence. The owl keeper was frantically waving her arms and calling its name but it didn’t figure it out until at least 10 minutes later where it decided to use its wings and fly over.
I wasn’t any more intelligent, though, for I decided to be in a black dress with black tights in black boots and a hoodie in summer. Who knew that Britain was actually warm that day? Soon I was sweltering and wishing that I had worn something lightweight. But I was a true (fake) goth, and withstood the unbearable heat to the point where I spent the rest of the day in the same clothes.
Go figure. I’m just a dumb human owl.