I once hit an owl with a bottle of Pepto-Bismol
You read that title correctly. I once hit an owl with a bottle of Pepto-Bismol.
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The last two months have been Health Hell. I am eternally grateful that I have a roof over my head and a comfy bed to rest in. There was a period in my life where I was homeless. Being homeless with a "period" is horrific.
I learned about the reason behind the pain shortly after my total hysterectomy.
It wasn't until afterward that I learned the reason behind the excruciating monthly pain: the lining of my uterus grew into the organ itself. That's why I had full-on contractions every month. That's why I went through a 12 hour overnight pad in an hour, and why I was weak and anemic. My body wasn't just shedding the lining. It was shredding the uterus.
Homeless, I drove my old Nova to a bit of land that served as a church summer retreat. It was in the middle of nowhere and in the middle of the coldest winter since the 70s. They didn't have a gate. I avoided the empty lodge except to grab water from the outside faucet, and found a campsite surrounded by firs instead. I could cook on the campsite's pit (after stealing both meat and charcoal from Safeway). I made it into a home of sorts. But it was still rough living.
And then I had the monthly visitor in the middle of the night. Jesus Christ! Better Half can describe my writhing and moans. But I didn't have him back then. Only nature would hear me. And, once my (prescribed!) meds kicked in, I only heard nature. And froze my ass off because those prescribed opioids reduce your body's ability to shiver.
I had the window open so I could smoke. The glowing coals mixed with burning wood gave the air a good scent. I decided to just sleep after the pain subsided. I had nearly dozed off... and then I heard it: a low-pitched series of resonating "woots" that last for 6–8 seconds. There were squeaks and wails tucked in as well.
"The fuck is that?"
The only creature with a similar sound would be a chimpanzee hooting before the wailing began. You won't find any chimps in the wild Rockies in the middle of winter. I let my imagination run wild. I didn't have much of a choice considering the pain medication. The creature sounded very close, and just slightly above me, tucked in the trees.
I searched for some sort of weapon while trying to be absolutely quiet. My potty kit was somewhere on the floor near my makeshift bed on the back seat. I groped, then froze and held my breath. Was it closer? Was it further away? I did this a few times. The occasional "woot" didn't sound any closer, until it did!
Something big landed on the branch where my leftovers hung. The bag swayed but remained tightly fastened. And then... nothing. The creature made a few more "woots" before going absolutely quiet. The minutes ticked away. I'd start to doze, but then "WOOT!" This shit went on for at least a half hour. My fear was creeping towards annoyed. That annoyance turned to anger. This dark shadow refused to go away. I sat up and peered out the window.
"WOOT!"
Enough was enough. I grabbed the first thing that was handy. It was a bottle. I opened the door, took aim, and flung that motherfucker as hard as I could.
"WO-"
SLAM!
THUD!
Okay, I was not expecting it to fall off the branch. It landed just shy of the clearing. No further noises came from it.
The early birds' shrill tweets woke me just before dawn. I crawled out of the car and visited my toilet hole. I had a quick field bath. My water jugs were running low. I had just returned from the lodge, and spotted a weird grey hump just behind the log I used as a seat to cook. I bought the jugs to my water area, and then crept towards the mysterious thing.
It was like a ball of feathers, with no distinction to it. I spotted my makeshift weapon nearby: Pepto-Bismol. Did I kill a bird? More-so, was it edible? Was it even dead? It was during this contemplation that the ball popped open. Oh. My. God. The bird looked enormous. The wing span was more than just impressive. And, sadly, it didn't look so well. It's not that it was hit by the bottle. It's as though it hadn't enjoyed a meal in a while.
I don't like owls. Even to this day, I'll go out of my way to avoid them. The entire species outranks my disdain for certain thrushes. Now I found myself in an asinine predicament. Do I kill it to put it out of its misery, and can you even eat owls? Was it legal to kills this particular kind of owl?
Its wings opened. It flapped a bit, then came to rest against the log. Yeah, this wasn't good. It needed help. One good dead? It put up no protest when I shuffled around it to throw a blanket on top. We struggle a while, but I eventually got the wings tucked against its body. Fully wrapped (and tied with heavy twine), I put it in the backseat and left the campground. A ranger station wasn't too far away.
I suppose he spotted me long before I spotted him. He had already descended to the ground, and was waiting for me when I pulled up. It was probably the most bizarre thing he ever encountered. Here was this straggly punk chick babbling on about Pepto-Bismol bottles and birds. He didn't believe a thing until he looked in my backseat.
I don't remember much after that. He took the bird with him, and I drove back to camp, took some more meds to thwart an increase in pain, and drifted off to sleep. He scared the fuck outta me when he woke me by tapping on my window. I suppose he followed my tire tracks.
He wanted to see where I found the bird, because that particular owl species should not be this far south. He explained that these owls sometimes fly along the Rockies when a harsh winter makes food scarce. He said the owl was nearly starved to death.
Of course, our talk turned to me trespassing on private land to camp without permission in the middle of winter. I remember that it had begun to snow. I had to leave but, having nowhere to go, I ended up parked at the base of the tower. He was kind, and I had a few really good meals here before heading back to Colorado.
I only know the bird's species because of an envelope tucked near the car's ashtray. It read something like, "Thank you for saving me. Here's a gift. From the Great Gray Owl." He had tucked close to $500 in that envelope. That was more than enough for gas and grub along the way.