During my morning walks on Stones River Greenway Trail that runs north along the usually still waters, I meet up with wildlife for sometimes over two hours. They welcome me back each time I visit their home as if they know me by name. My favorite hosts are the trees, plants, flowers, deer, squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits, an occasional hawk or eagle. Others include black vultures, small colorful birds of nearly every kind, larger birds unfamiliar to me, ducks, turtles, and an owl who has been perched on two occasions near the one mile marker taking notice of me from above. On the first occasion, I stopped and the owl swiveled its head in my direction effortlessly giving me time to snap a quick pic with my phone.

Today, I smell the remnants of a nocturnal creature at times wanting me to know that this is its home, too. Before now, I never knew the scent of a skunk, or saw one, for that matter, until I moved from Chicago to this neck of the woods in Nashville. Medium-size snakes crossing from one side of the woods to the other have made me pause, but I cautiously pass them without either of us causing a scene.

As my mind shares space with the song “Feeling Good” by Nina Simone on repeat via ear buds, I return to thoughts of the owl enjoying life. On this morning from up above, I see its big eyes looking directly at me. I ponder if this is the same owl as before. Whispers in my head from the owl to me say, “You, too, can fly.”

This bird, often written about in fiction by some as a symbol of wisdom, represents so much more to me, so I decide to name the owl Sage (peaceful, calm, and wise) and give it the pronouns she/her. I yearn to learn and know all of her secrets. Sage’s ability to sit still upon a sturdy branch, observe, belong in the spaces she chooses to be for long lengths of time, and not be unsettled by the things going on around her with humans coming and going fascinates me. Sage is untethered to the business of others.

I imagine myself sitting alongside Sage high up in that tree with a bird’s eye view of the bikers, joggers, and walkers with their dogs on and off leash. We are silent together, taking in the conversations and laughter with no judgment of all of these creatures. I want to learn something and Sage is my teacher. Another whisper in my head from her, “You must always remember what you know.”

For these precious moments, I pretend I’m Sage, or, at least, that we’re birds of a feather, though I remain featherless. She reminds me of many things like the joy of solitude, quiet times, being interested in people, breaths of fresh air, the wonder of nature and spreading my wings as I take off from one place to another when it’s time to take flight. I visualize spending several hours with Sage.

In my mind, morning has turned into late afternoon when Sage looks over at me and suggests with her serious, yet soft, stare, “You can always trust yourself.” I turn to her and imply without words that if anyone thinks different, “I won’t give a hoot.” Sage blinks those big eyes three times, swivels her head away from me, and begins her ascent from our spot. She demonstrates her huge wingspan as the clear blue sky becomes her lovely backdrop. She disappears out of my sight.

I’m down from the tree now to finish my six-mile walk when a fellow walker catches up with me. I’ve seen him a time or two out here walking alone. He seems to take in with awe life’s beauty in much the same way that I do. We exchange our usual cordial greetings and he asks, “Did you see that owl back there? That’s the first time I’ve ever seen one out here.” He’s quite excited, so I’m pleased to smile, nod my head, and respond, “Yes, yes, yes, I did.”