Yesterday, Mr. P and I went hiking at the Blue Hills Reservation south of Boston. It was our first hike since last October, and the 400-foot “hills” seemed like a gentle way to reacquaint our rock-stepping muscles before heading back to the 4,000-foot Whites. I babbled nonstop as we trotted over the rocky terrain. It was a perfect day—abundant sunshine, tempered by a cool breeze. About a mile and a half into our six-mile loop, we were descending a hill when we reached a steep, smooth rock slab.
I stepped past Mr. P to scout my route down—when:
“HISSSSSSSS!”
A harsh, guttural sound erupted inches from my left ear—like a snake crossed with a demon cat. My body locked in instant panic. I spun toward the noise and found myself less than a foot from a pair of huge, furious eyes, boring straight into mine.
I screamed.
Not a cute gasp. A full-throated, primal scream. And if you think you wouldn’t have, you’re lying to yourself.
I staggered backward, arms flailing, expecting to be mauled by whatever this face-ripping creature was. Mr. P, equally alarmed, assumed it was a rabid raccoon. I was convinced we’d just pissed off a badger.
But no.
It was an owl.
A large, furious, unblinking owl. It stood its ground, clicking its beak and bobbing its whole body in a hypnotic display of warning. Its wings spread and rotated forward in a wide defensive arc, and every feather on its body was puffed out in a threatening halo. Honestly? Majestic. And terrifying.
Mr. P immediately began taking photos. I stood off to the side, bent over, trying to reassemble my nervous system.
The owl may have been guarding a nest, though I find it hard to believe any bird would set up camp directly on a busy hiking trail. If this is how she greets every passerby, she must live in a state of near-constant existential crisis.
As a devoted Twin Peaks fan, I can’t ignore the deeper implications. In Twin Peaks lore, owls are not what they seem. Which means my body is now likely marked for spiritual possession. Should I begin dancing compulsively or my hair turn white overnight, someone needs to call the FBI. Immediately.
