I am a person of little faith, apparently. I was sitting outside thinking there must not be an owlet this year, because by this point, if there were an owlet I’d expect to see someone babysitting the nest, and there are no owls at all.

Except that the voyage is in having new eyes. The owls are there whether I see them or not.

Daphne knew where *I* was the whole time.


Daphne groomed herself. And then, in a magic moment straight out of Forrest Gump, this piece of leg fluff drifted out of her tree, across the yard, and literally straight into my hand.

For reference. (Hi res so you can zoom and sort of see her.)