My brother Ken is the 14 time world champion of Footbag, aka Hacky Sack. He’s a highly respected, sought after global expert in SEO. He’s an introvert, a comedian, an athlete, devoted husband, great dad. He’s also one of those rare humans who quietly masters what he chooses to practice. This has been true since he was tiny. Most normal toddlers bounce from one thing to another, but not Ken. He played with blocks and balls for hours, undistracted, laser focused until his goal was reached. He’s not “normal.” He possesses a savant-like quality without the awkward. He’s a master of the random, anti-mainstream hobby. Maybe the ability to master lies in the choice of passions few care to partake in, but I don’t think so. He is special.
The current passion lies in owl photography. Whenever I’m home, I make sure to tag along on his almost daily quests for the perfect shot of these quietly fierce forest residents. Watching owls is super cool for sure. They are amazing. I don’t go to watch the owls through really. I go to watch my brother.
There is something about bearing witness to this level of passion and brilliance. He’s trained his brain to be the owl. He has no background in ornithology. He’s never taken a photography class. He is self taught in his chosen medium with shots worthy of a National Geographic cover. He’ll walk 4 miles in the snow at night after a full day of work at the off chance of catching just a glimpse. Oregon Field Guide did a piece on him 2 years ago called “Ghosts Of The Forest”: The Elusive Great Grey Owl.” Be sure to keep watching until he finds the nest. You’ll see what I’m talking about –it’s not about the owls. It’s about him.
On this trip to Portland, I happened to land at owl fledgling time. Owls mate once/yr. and there’s a 24 hour period Ken refers to as the “Muppet Invasion” when the chicks are almost ready to test their wings. These fluffy cartoon-esque characters perch on the edge of the nest, bobbing and weaving with hysterically goofy anticipation of the big leap. Mom and dad are close by, calling, hunting, feeding, encouraging. During one 24 hour period, on one day a year the nest is a hub of fluff ball excitement. I happened to land in Portland at the perfect time for the Muppet Show.
I sat with my binoculars for an hour watching in awe as mom and dad brought various treats to their eager chicks. I’ve been sworn to secrecy as to the nest location of these Western Screech Owls. Ken shares his passion through his photos, but he doesn’t share where they live. He’s an avian steward, a fierce protector, a keeper of wise secrets.
The streets of Portland were shut down by an 8:00 curfew. We stayed till 9:00 – owl-baby curfew-breaking rebels we were. I pepper him with questions and he knows all the answers. Every tiny sign delivered through calls of other birds, fresh droppings, frequented roosts – he knows. “How do you know that?” I ask. He grins knowingly, “This is what I do.” To get to see this rare moment of fluffy goodness was delightful. The real gift lies in time spent watching passion personified – my brother, the owl whisperer.
https://www.instagram.com/owlpurist/
