“Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened.” – Anatole France.

It’s clear to me now; the owl came to us with a message. He also came to us to die. He came to guide us to something. Once again, the call to adventure, to step out of ourselves and into another space.

Maria found him around 1 p.m. By 2:30, we were pulling into Trish’s driveway in Saratoga.

Trish is a Wildlife Rehabilitator we called when the Eastern Screech Owl appeared outside Maria’s studio window and was sitting still in the snow.

She went out and picked him up, held him in her hand.

The owl sat comfortably and peacefully on both of our hands, he wrapped his claws around our fingers and stared at us with curiosity. It seemed that this was where he meant to go, wanted to go. It seemed he had been waiting for her.

He was cute, yes, but more than that. He had the bearing of a spirit animal.

He seemed affectionate and somewhat stunned. He turned his head and looked carefully at both of us; he seemed to be in shock; he probably was. We only knew he was there because Fate saw him through Maria’s studio window and barked in alarm.

But where he landed was right outside of Maria’s window. It was his last flight.

Maria and I have been through so many crises and challenges together. We’re like one of those seasoned police partners you see on the cop shows.

They each have a role; they each know what to do.

She put the cardboard box together, I got the tape, and then she held the owl, and I headed for the phone. She’s the loving rescuer, and I’m the 911 operator.

She’s the inside one, and I’m the outside one.

I called our vet and got the Saratoga Animal Wildlife Rehabilitation number. Country vets used to treat wounded wildlife but not any longer.

Sigrid answered the phone, asked me what was happening, and I told her about the owl. She asked me to send a photo on my phone, and I did.

She told me it was an Eastern Screech Owl.

She said she would contact a volunteer; the nearest was in Saratoga Springs. She told me to get the owl into a box, line it with fleece, not to feed him, and to keep him in a warm, dark and quiet space.

Trisch called in minutes, and she asked if we could bring the owl to her. I had the feeling she was surprised when we said yes. Saratoga is about 45 minutes from us.

I told Maria it was interesting to know these were the things we knew to do with injured animals we came across around the farm and all around us in the country.

Our instincts were good by now. Soon, we will learn more.

When I lived in big cities and New Jersey, I never came near a wild animal, sick or otherwise. I see them almost every day in this life. There is nothing on the earth more dangerous to wildlife than humans.

This was far from our first encounter with injured wildlife, from a bear hit by a truck in front of our house to rabid skunks and possums and baby birds fallen from their nests to our own sick farm animals.

911 is many minutes away here, you just have to learn to think for yourself.

The protocols for treating pets and wild animals are often similar.  Get them confined in a warm and dark space. Call somebody for more information.

Maria is very open in her love of animals and in her healing instincts. I have always been more guarded, but this owl opened me up, as has life with Maria.

There was something about the owl that drew love, the sense that he was talking to me, that he had a mission.

Maria looked so natural as if she had done this a million times.

We got the owl – he was like a plush toy in some ways, soft and round with big eyes –  into a box and lined the bottom with a soft cloth.

There was no resistance, he was accepting. His claws did not want to let go of my hand.

We both got into my rental SUV and drove right away to Saratoga Springs, scrapping our work and our plans. When we got to Saratoga, we pulled into Trish’s house and she came out to meet us.

The owl was still in his box in the back seat.

I got out to introduce myself to Trish, and I heard Maria’s sad voice from the other side of the car. “He’s dead,” she said with resignation. Are you sure? I asked.

She nodded, “he’s dead. I’m sure.”

Trish recognized me from the blog  – “I thought it was you” – and Maria said she wanted to bring the owl back to the farm and bury him near her favorite tree in her Orphaned Woods.

We drove back home. He delivered his message, I thought.

Maria was sad, and so was I. The car was unnaturally somber and quiet. We were low.

It was then I had this flash, this feeling. It was in my brain, my heart, my chess. It was a call to adventure.

I knew it well, it brought me upstate, then to a cottage on a hill, then to a farm, then to another farm, and a life with animals, then to a life with Maria.

As long as we have been together, we have lived with animals, and I have seen both of us grow in our love and connection with them, from dogs to cats to donkeys,  cows, two horses, sheep, and chickens.

My heart was stirring.

I asked Maria: “Have you ever considered being a Wild Animal Rehabilitator?” She shook her head. No, she said, I don’t have time; it could interfere with my work.”

But I could tell the idea pulled her; she didn’t seem sure at first.

Then I thought this was something perhaps the two of us could do together. I love my life with animals, and I know Maria loves hers.

“What if we do it together. One of us can always step in if the other is busy.” I surprised myself by saying, “I would love to do this, and I think you would be wonderful at it.”

At first, Maria balked. She wasn’t sure. Was there time?

But then, something shifted in her, as well as me.  I remembered that on the hero journey, there is always a refusal at first to the call. But it just seemed right to me.

The idea lit up both of us at the same time.

It was one of those ideas that just felt better and better every minute I thought about it. “I think I would like to do it, ” she said, “I think it would be a wonderful thing to do.”

We both came together at the same moment. We love animals, I said, let’s give something back to them. You already do this every chance you get. Wouldn’t it be great to learn more about how to do it?”

She smiled. “You’d love to write about it on the blog, wouldn’t you?” I nodded. “I really would. So, I bet, would you.” She smiled; she agreed. It would be good for us, for animals, for other people who want to help them.

What a wonderful thing for us to share, I said. We keep our work lives very separate, but this would be a beautiful thing for us to do together.

I recognized it right away, it was a call to adventure. I knew this story.

The call to adventure begins when the hero leaves his safe and ordinary place for the world beyond. The adventure begins when he receives a call to action, disrupting the rhythm and comfort of the ordinary world, and presents a challenge or quest that must be undertaken.

There is always, at first, a refusal of the call – second thoughts, doubts, fear of the unknown.

Then he or she meets the mentor,  hero, lover, partner, or friend, who reassures the hero, dispels their doubts, and gives them the courage to begin the quest.

The hero begins the quest, is ready to act, to do something he or she has always wanted to do. Out of his comfort zone, he or she is confronted with hurdles, many that thwart progress. There are challenges to overcome.

Maria and I know this story, it is, in so many ways, our story.

After defeating his fears and overcoming his obstacles, the hero emerges as a stronger person and often with a prize – love, meaning, learning, or pride. The final reward that they obtain may be literal or metaphoric, self-realization, joy, peace, love,  and the wonder of doing good.

Things will not be the same again.

The owl is a messenger, say the shamans. Our owl came to us with a message. Help the animals, save the world.

To me, the appearance of the owl and his death was a powerful example of how the call to adventure comes. The merest encounter, the most unexpected chance, reveals an unsuspected world, and the human being is drawn into a relationship with forces that are not immediately understood.

Stumbles and blunders, said Freud, are not chance. They are the result of suppressed desires and conflicts. They are ripples on the surface of life, produced by unseen and unsuspected springs. These stumbles may be very deep, as deep as the soul itself.

I told Maria this was just like belly dancing, this is who you really are, this is natural. For me, it was different, another chapter in my long struggle to open up. Maria has been teaching me how.

The blunder, the odd happening may sometimes amount to the opening of one’s destiny.  We are where we were meant to be, we go where we are meant to go.

In the long and rich history of myth, animals have always been the symbols, the messengers, the guides.

Give the animals their due, wrote Joseph Campbell. At night, when they see a light, they will approach it to know what it is.

“That’s the beginning,” he says. “In their next incarnation, they’re going to be on the human level. This is the awakening of awe.”