.forest park.

i thought owls were nocturnal. they hunt at night, and during the daytime they just hide or sleep or something.

yesterday morning i went for a walk in forest park, portland's magnificent urban wilderness. i go for a lot of walks in forest park because it's close to home, densely wooded, and populated with a lot of hip families with bounding dogs. going for a walk seems like a dignified and purposeful activity on a saturday morning when i don't know what to do with myself. which is every saturday morning.

i love hiking because even on a blindingly sunny day, the forest is damp and dark and dappled. it's not even bright enough to take a clear picture. even the dog shit is covered in mold and has the appearance of powdered doughnuts decorating the side of the path. everything smells like decomposition and has the color of camouflage. i love that my palms end up dirty because i can't resist touching tree trunks and picking up leaves. i also love not having to talk to anyone.

i hear a lot of snippets of conversation on my way up the hill. lots of couples - two women friends, husbands and wives - always deliberating on the challenges and frustrations of relationships. "i always feel like i'm being taken advantage of," is all i hear one woman say. but i know exactly what she's talking about.

i'm meandering back down the hill to my car, and thank god i'm not starving because i had the forethought to actually eat breakfast, and i'm stopping to look at banana slugs and yellow leaves and mushrooms growing on logs and i'm taking a long time for a short walk. i have just picked up the pace when i stop suddenly at the sight of what appears to be big kitty flying across the stream. it was a goddamn owl, huge and brown and just like in the harry potter movies. i've never seen anything like it in real life. over the course of the next ten minutes it stalks fish in the stream with the quick and alert expression of my cat hunting spiders in the bathroom. it swoops down with spread wings and clutches a fish in its talons, swings back up to perch on a tree branch, and feeds itself fish like a fat sports fan eats potato chips.