I heard once, when I was a 12-year-old, that a farmer in our area had crucified a tawny owl on his door to ward off some imaginary evil, obscure remnant of ancient tales. On that day, I realized that fear and ignorance are reason enough for men to be cruel.
In those early years, I listen expectantly for your cry in the center of the night. I tracked you, inscrutable visitant of the silence, in the small dens of a stone barn. I even spotted you for a season in the cavity of a plane tree on the path of the schoolchildren. Did you give me your ageless blessing every morning as I walked to class? I found you at last on the high beam of a timeworn pigeon tower, side by side with one of your kind, like Siamese brothers.
– From Whisperings of the Protogenos by Yves Cadoux
Susan Gräfin zu Bentheim, Boy With Owl, 2015, source: http://www.SusanGrafinzuBentheim.com
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