It all began in this grove when the other grovegirl and I found an owl late last spring. We didn't expect to see one but we'd hoped to. She said, "Let's look for owls after lunch." Sure. All those trees and how do you look for owls, anyway? But we heard one and stuffed our lunch sacks and headed for the grove. "Just start at the bottom of each tree and look up slowly and carefully for something that doesn't look like 'tree' but looks like 'owl.'"

Right. I did a 180. No owl in the tree behind me. Back to the spot of origin and up, up, up. What's that? Looks like a teddy bear! "Hey, Sister, look at that! Looks like some sort of teddy bear up there." "OHMYGOD. . .it's (squinted her eyes) an OWL BABY (stretched her neck and squinted as if to project her sight better)! SHHHHHHH. We can't disturb it! And I think its parent is around. . .hear that hooting?
Stay here. Don't lose sight of this tree. I'm going back for my binoculars and camera!!!!" And clomp, swish, clomp, swish-she headed for the car and the gear.

I watched. I waited. My eyes burned and watered from watching, scared that I'd lose sight of this chancy find. I pulled my eyes down to the bottom of the tree to ease the watering and saw lots of bird poop. I knew I wouldn't lose the tree. When she came back, I gestured to the owl poop and she gave me the thumbs up sign. click. a photo. click. another. click and click and click. several more.

Parent owl began warning hoots and drew the baby away. We let them go without following because we needed to dance and jump and cavort out some of our happiness and excitement.

The adventure had begun.