Jeff versus Owls

Someone's dream of owls reminded me:

Once, years ago, on leaving a woman's house in the wee hours just before dawn, I walked to where I had parked my (convertible) car. There, perched on the steering wheel, was a small black owl, more or less the size and shape of a coke can.

I paused in the deserted street and watched it for a moment.

I slunk closer and closer, gripping my keys in my fist to prevent their jangling.

When I drew near enough that a lunge could have allowed me to touch it, it fluttered away into an overhanging tree. I watched for a moment and then pulled myself into my car, drowsy and anxious to get home to sleep away the day.

Just as I was shoving the key into the ignition I was smacked in the head by what I was sure was a rudely thrown pinecone.

But, as evidenced by the muffled flutter of wings in the branches above me, I had, in fact, been divebombed by an owl.

Another owl. Perhaps the mate of the one who had been sitting on my steering wheel. In any case, I lept out of my car and stood in slack-jawed shock in the middle of the road.

When I felt sure the little owls were going to stay put, I sauntered back to the car. This time I saw it coming and ducked.

One of the little, yellow-eyed terrors just clutched at the hairs on top of my head as it went past. I screamed or laughed (or both at the same time). I ran back to the girl's front door and knocked until she answered, already half asleep and now in only her underwear.

After a minute of convincing her that I was in earnest, she followed me into the street while I tried to find the owls in the tree. We must have stood there for three or four minutes, me gesticulating wildly and shouting in the now pinkish dawn, her in her panties and t-shirt, clutching herself underneath her breasts from the cold. Eventually, she assured me that she believed me, but begged off witnessing anything in favor of bed. Reluctantly, I let her go, sure that she thought I was exaggerating at best and lying at worst.

Just as she turned to go - pinecone to the back of the head.

I shout. Girl turns. Girl sees owl flying back into tree, away from the general area of my cranium. Girl sees self-satisfied Jeff, thrilled to have provided evidence of mad owl instead of owl madness.

She ended up standing there, jumping up and down and waving her arms - distracting the vicious things - long enough for me to jump in my car and speed away.

I often think about those stupid owls. What did they want with my car?