Talking to Owls

 When I go out on our back deck (if Bern isn't there to talk to) I talk to Owls.

They aren't real owls. They are plastic and supposed to scare away something--squirrels? chipmunks? who knows?.

One has been on our deck for years. The other used to be down at the end of the back yard with wings and on a pole. The wings fell off and she fell off the pole so now she is in a huge pot with him on our deck.

I assigned them gender. The wingless one is a girl named Olivia and the sitting one is a male named Oliver.

Clever names, huh?

I don't talk about serious things with them--the weather, the time of day and time of year. Stuff like that.

I don't talk to real owls, though I saw one in one of the trees on our side yard and few weeks ago and tried to strike up a conversation.

None of the owls--plastic or real--talk back.

I could be talking to nothing, just to hear my voice.

But I prefer talking to owls.

Try it out. You'll see what I mean.