First Impressions

I became a strigidaphile (<--neologism (you're welcome))in 1986 when mother read me Farley Mowat's "Owls in the Family." I was six or seven years old. The book, published in 1961, is a creative nonfiction work about two owls Mowat rescued when he was a child and kept as pets. The owls, Wol and Weeps, were great horned owls. Mowat fondly recounts his memories of their time together in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan.



Two and a half decades later, I've left the barred owls and hoot owls of New England for the burrow owls and pygmy owls of the great Sonoran Desert. Somewhere between Worcester, MA and Tucson, AZ there's a vegan dude with a great wife and couple of cats looking for a lit PhD, writing some stories and taking some pictures. That's me, of course, Eric and I compiled this menagerie with the close moral support of my cat and co-conspirator, Ishmael. Ishmael and I thank you for reading and hope you enjoy.