Teig Saying "Goodbye"

"It's an owl!" said my friend, the driver.

"It's a hawk!" I said, unable to see its head.

While driving to Cabot last night, we encountered a bird in the middle of Danville Hill Road. My friend had only just warned me that he simply could not stand the thought of killing a living creature with his car, that he even swerves for insects.

Stopping immediately, headlights on, I was expecting whatever it was to move off quickly when we pulled up. But it sat there. Finally, it turned its big head as if looking straight into my eyes.

"It's an owl," I agreed.

Neither of us had ever seen one before, at least not in the middle of a dirt road. Up high up in a tree, maybe, but not on the ground.

"It's caught something," I said.

As we pulled the car around the bird, it finally lifted off, relaxing its grip as it did. A single poplar tree leaf fluttered to the dirt.

There began a discussion in the car of what an impressive moment that had been, one that others assign great meaning to — since the time of the Greeks and Romans.

The owl was carrying a message.

Could it be my friend Teig Hogan saying "goodbye"? They'd just gathered down in Virginia for an informal memorial the day before. I'd sent best regards along with a link to some images of him, hoping to participate remotely.

I knew he didn't have long, but I'd missed that last call — phone upstairs when I was downstairs kind of a thing. Of course, I wish I'd called him back.

Goodbye, Teig. We'll play more trivia when I get there.

October 8, 2018