A mammoth of an eerily silent great horned owl swooped down in front of us while driving down a small winding road towards my house the other night. It was a ghost of a creature floating in front of us for a few seconds, giant and mysterious, until it angled up effortlessly to the top of a nearby pine tree.

I could not tell you for the life of me what either of us had been nattering on about when we saw it, but it stopped our noise in its tracks. Even now, thinking about it, I can see its eye as it turned its head slightly, just to catch us by the corner, before it looked away again.  I can feel the dead quiet awe that came over me, bringing a veil of calm.