The night was dark, oppressive and foreboding as heavily overcast nights seem to be. The moon was near to rebirth, a time of blackness as pure as ink. It seemed to suggest the loss of the little light of hope that she usually gives us in the evening time.

I was riding along the highway with a good friend of mine. The day had been pleasant, meeting with old friends not seen in a while. We were speaking of the oddity of coincidences and how often those small `chance' happenings might really be there for some other reason.

As is often the case along the highway, we were travelling quickly, as fast as is allowable. I was lost in my own thoughts for a moment thinking of how wonderful the day had been, and how fortunate it was that I had decided to go to the gathering, for most often I refrain from these particular meetings. In my minds travels, I looked out at the tunnels that the headlights bored through the mystical darkness.

Out of the night's magic, illuminated by the lights of our vehicle, stood a great owl, a hunter of the dark. He waited there in the road directly before me and was not hunched over a kill, for there was nothing at his feet or otherwise around him. His grand form appeared to be rather like that of a wise old man, who knows much that others do not.

The next instants are almost like clockwork in my head. We see him, he is gazing off to my right. He is poised like a statue, his stance powerful, reminding me of a god captured in stone. He glances over his right shoulder at us, calmly. I realize what he is. He cocks his body as one might a fine weapon and spreads his wings.

As he launches himself, we hit him. The great owl has a momentary shudder, then his wings flop loosely. I gently reach over and moved the steering wheel to the right, for my friend is crying. We slow and move out of the road.

His body was held upon the radiator, intact. For some reason I had the thought that even though death could take him, it would only be on his terms. It felt as if he had given himself, a powerful self-sacrifice, to us. As respectfully and caringly as was possible, I wrapped his magnificent body in a bag and laid him in the back of the car.

In the days that followed, I thought much about this visitor. There was no doubt in my mind that he had been waiting for us, and as horrible as it seemed, I could not find fault with the encounter. I resolved to remember the great night-hunter and respect his power, rather then try to deny the event and the possibility of learning what he had given so much to teach.

For if nothing else, the owl is wise, and he knows what should happen. His great golden eyes, burning like suns in the night, showing him all he needs to know. When man fumbles in fear of what he does not know, of what is out there waiting in the darkness of his soul, the owl still observes all. His poise being kingly and sure, he is not inhibited by such fears, he can see through them to the truth behind it all. We have nothing to fear but the fear we make for ourselves, and the owl's fierce sight penetrates such illusions.

There is a place we go, a place where mankind goes, and he tries to forget all the `ugly' and negligent things we have done. I see it reflected in such small things as dead animals on the side of the road. We look, and then we look away, and we keep driving on, making ourselves blissfully ignorant, and living in our `good' fantasy worlds.

It happened earlier that night, when my friend accidentally ran over a dead woodchuck. It was already dead, you see. I put it out of my mind, for it wasn't `our' fault. Of course, even if it had been alive, we wouldn't have been able to avoid it at the speed we were travelling. Did we slow down and think of what further damage our actions might bring? No. And it took the death of a beautiful owl to make us listen to life and slow down.

One woodchuck, one squirrel, one owl, one deer... small things in the fate of the world,supposedly. It has been said many times and many ways, `Life is but a Mirror of Itself' and, `As big, so small.' We speed along in our cars, looking out the windows, and see the dead bodies of others on the side of the road. In our physical cars, and in the great vehicle of life, they are but reflections of each other.

We buried the owl, respectfully. We thanked its spirit for honoring us. I hope that I will never forget what it has brought, and what it continues to teach me, for on that day which I do, I will become but another dead animal on the side of the road.