Essay by Charles Finn
Wildlife – January 2007 – Colorado Central Magazine
ONE BY ONE as the afternoon shadows stretched across the winter fields north of Pablo, in the Flathead Valley of western Montana, a parliament of snowy owls began to fly up to sit on the neighboring fence posts.
Along the dirt roads circling the fields, cars were pulled over and spotting scopes set up; thermoses of coffee balanced on hoods like ornaments and bird guides felt the familiar ruffle of thumbs. That afternoon I had driven 100 miles to see the owls because I know beauty like this can make you catch your breath. It can break your heart. It can hurt so badly, sting so sweetly, that it becomes addictive.