“Largely Unrelated To Songs About Buildings and Food
For those of you who know me, you likely know that I’ve been trying to go abroad for a long time now. First, I was supposed to study abroad for a semester in Greece with my sibling, and then COVID canceled that. Then, I was supposed to go to India on a Fulbright scholarship. They did not accept me, much to my disappointment. Now, this fall, I’m hoping to go to graduate school in Europe. Things are looking pretty bright this time around, since there are no global pandemics on the horizon (hopefully), and I’m optimistic that the collapse of the United States can hold off until I get back. Plus, even if I don’t go to graduate school in Europe, I am going to Europe. One way or another, I will be there. For a long time. Starting this fall. Maybe WWOOFing or as an au pair or something. And nothing is going to get in my way. [*freeze frame, record scratch, jump cut to tragic car accident that flattens my penis and forces me into intensive penis unflattening therapy*] NOTHING will stop me now.
Suffice it for now to say that this is one of two big things in my future that I’m excited about right now, the other one being the “big announcement” I mentioned a few weeks ago that has since been delayed. I’ll talk more about both of these things, the school in Europe and the other thing, in due course. But in the meantime, the upshot of all this is that I have also now alerted my job and my apartment building that I will be leaving Minnesota in May of this year. More, of course, on all this later. Expect a sentimental reflection on my time as a historical interpreter sometime around May, I suppose. But the upshot’s upshot is that, because of this, I somehow now get to work extra shifts! Which, believe it or not, is a good thing, because I’m still hourly and I get paid for them! So this is really just a long, roundabout way of saying that I’m tired this weekend and all I want to do is kick back and show you pictures of a bunch of animals I saw. Which is probably a much better alternative for my regular readers of my family and Cheyenne’s Dad’s friend Matt than what I was initially planning, a full-length diatribe on Artificial Intelligence in writing and art, and also something about weather balloons probably. But those damn balloons are old news now.
The main place I saw all those animals was at the International Festival of Owls! Which is totally a real thing and not something I just made up! It’s an annual festival in Houston, Minnesota (it’s literally nowhere, there’s a reason you haven’t heard of it), and apparently, it is the United State’s only entirely-owl festival. Which kind of surprised me, actually. I mean, owls play such a huge role in popular culture in the US and the world at large. They’re mascots, they’re cartoon characters, they’re in tons of movies and tv shows. Everyone loves owls! But maybe because of my single-minded love for the Strigiforme family, I was ironically blinded to the truth that most people don’t care about owls. I mean, if you believe me that every single cabin was booked at the Sax Zim bog from January until March, and we got people coming all the way up from Puerto Rico to look for the damn things, then you’d think that there would be a much bigger audience for a festival of owls! But no, I guess not, which is why there’s only this one festival and it’s in rinky-dink Houston, MN. Because that’s where the International Owl Center is, in their rinky-dink little building. Sad. But they’re upgrading soon, so that’s cool!
This trip to the owl festival was not a rip-roaring adventure like the Sax Zim bog was, to be clear. I went down for the day to see the owls and the festivities that they had going on, and I came back to my apartment that same night, satisfied I had seen almost everything I wanted to see. If I was literally so close to a festival of owls, I figured I had to go. How could I not? I’m Owlmanandy. I’ve been the owl guy since I was eighteen months old. So, as an avid owl lover and conservationist, I can say that, sadly, the owls deserve better. This festival is not big enough, and neither is the owl center. I want more owls. I mean, bears and wolves get enormous, state-of-the-art centers up near Ely (their websites are literally www.bear.org and www.wolf.org, how did they do that?), and there’s a national Eagle center that I haven’t been to but hear is cool, but owls get relegated to the shell of an old bank in the middle of nowhere? Lame. I want more OWLS!
There is other owl stuff around the world, there’s an international owl conference that’s a big deal for researchers, I guess, but I want something like the North American Bear center, but for owls, and a festival that takes up an entire week and draws tens of thousands of people and shuts down a town. Ok, maybe not that much, but this festival now is already pulling more than a thousand folks in! Imagine what they could do if they were somewhere that wasn’t Houston, Minnesota? Or, otherwise, if you could make people go to Houston, Minnesota? Apparently, this International Owl Center is already doing some legitimate owl research. Did you know that an owl’s hoot pattern is innately known, not taught? They helped prove that! Imagine what they could do with gobs of money! Breed more owls, probably. Let’s get this bird! More owls!
Alright, enough complaining, I haven’t even told you what I did at the festival yet. It was neat, overall. They had events all weekend, and a food truck and a pancake breakfast, and a guy from Sweden that I didn’t see. What I did see was the live owl presentation put on by the Illinois Raptor Center (in Decatur, Illinois, by the way, where I’ve spent an unhealthy amount of time considering it is Decatur, one of the many uncomfortable cities that dot central Illinois. Sorry, Cheyenne. It’s still better than Peoria, though. Sorry, Cole. You’ve got Bloomington-Normal beat, though. I’m not sorry to Bloomington Normal or anyone who lives there. Fuck you. Fuck Blo-No. Fuck ISU. Fuck that town.). I got to see a barred owl, a great-horned owl, a snowy owl, and an eastern screech owl, and I learned a little bit about them! I even got pictures with the screech owl, and let me tell you, in the moment I was next to that bird, I haven’t felt that much pure joy in, like, a decade. Something came over me, I swear, I was so fucking happy next to that damn bird. It was weird. I was literally warm in the chest because I was so happy to look at this stupid little bird. I felt like I was going crazy. I was so happy. Now I intend to chase that high by getting my own owl and training them to help me hunt rats, moles, and FBI informants.
After the owl presentation, I wandered around in the high school where most of the festival was held. The walls of the school were covered, and I mean that quite literally, by owl artwork submitted by children from around the world. I don’t know how they did it, but somehow this festival pulled artwork submissions not just from, like, every state, but places as far away as Turkey, Ukraine, Hong Kong, Poland, and more that I didn’t read. They must have some ambassador school programs or something, though, because there were a whole bunch of weird hot-spots of submissions. But it was super cool! And some of those kids were super talented, too! Far better artists at 8 than I ever will be. So that was neat to see.
I also stumbled upon a build-your-own owl nest box, run by the local Boy Scout troop, of all people. Which was wild for me to see, because that was literally my Eagle Scout project. I don’t talk about it a lot (except for Philmont, of course) because the politics around scouting is weird and I’m not a fan of the organization as a whole for a handful of reasons, but I am an Eagle Scout and I really, really enjoyed my time in scouting. Between Philmont, becoming an Eagle Scout, and troop activities as a whole, tons of formative experiences of mine came from Boy Scouts. I certainly don’t regret it, though I don’t know if I’d want my own kids joining it in the future. I’d probably rather just get them and a bunch of their friends and take them camping on their own. But that’s a story for another time. It was just kind of heartwarming and a little bit weird to see a bunch of scouts building nest boxes, just like I did, but they’re all children still and I’m, well, it’s been almost ten years since I got my Eagle Scout honors. November of 2015, so still some time, but it was a sweet and also sobering moment on the whole. Except they were gonna charge me $55 bucks to build the boxes. Motherfucker, I built them for free, and I’d do it again.
After leaving the high school, I drove all of three blocks to get to the International Owl Center, which, like I said, is in the old brick shell of what was once a bank or storefront. It was really just a gift shop, small exhibit space of taxidermied owls, and a presentation room. They do have off-site stuff where they keep their own research and breeding owls, I think, and they are building a brand new center, but it was a little weird. It was also weird that they were selling the artwork that all the children had submitted. Strange, but ok, and I wanted to buy one. What was frustrating was that I wanted to buy one of the winning pieces. They told me no. Sure, in retrospect that makes sense, they want to keep the winning ones for their new exhibit or whatever, but nowhere did it say that on any of the “buy the kids’ art” signs so I made a fool of myself in front of this huge line of gift shop people. It was downright embarrassing. At least, though, I could go back to the back of the building and look at the owls. This does make up for the embarrassment.
They had a great-horned owl, a barn owl, a burrowing owl, and some other small owl that was hiding in a little box and I couldn’t quite see. But I got to get up real close to the owls and look at them, and the great-horned owl snapped at me in annoyance, so that was cool! The barn owl was even nesting, which was really neat. She’d laid some infertile eggs, for some reason, and she’d stand up in her little box from time to time to turn the eggs over, but she was real cute sitting in there. I thoroughly enjoyed having a chance to see all sorts of different owls, especially since I only saw one (1) owl at the bog. So the owl festival did end up being worth it to me, even with the two and a half hour drive, because I saw nine (?) owls. That’s a lot of owls! That’s fifteen minutes of driving per owls! I spent like ten-plus hours driving just to see one owl before! This is a steal! I did feel a little bad seeing the owls caged up, but, like the vast majority of educational animals, I know they’re hurt or permanently disabled in some way and can’t be safely released back into the wild anyway. But their fancy new exhibit includes expanded fly space, so that’s neat!
In another moment of taking an unexpected walk down memory lane, they also had a map of the world and how different languages say “owl.” And on there was the Czech/Slovak word for owl, sova. Which is exactly how I named Sova Productions way back when I tried to start a vlog! What a neat callback. Nice continuity there. Real fun fan service. I was not anticipating or prepared for being forced to involuntarily reflect on my past successes, failures, and the uncertain realities of my future at this fun day of owls. And yet here I was, twice in one day, pushed back down the roads of memory. Isn’t it weird how little things like that can trigger a bunch of weird emotions? Isn’t it great how it’s entirely unbidden and uncontrolled? Memory is fun. I sure hope I never lose mine.
After poking around the owl center for a little bit, I checked the calendar of events for the festival and kind of decided that I had seen everything I really wanted to see, at least compared to what I had time to do that day. I had plans for the evening, so I had to be home anyway, and it was a long drive. I’d say it was still a successful time, though! I’m glad that I went to the festival! I’m glad I saw all the owls! I look forward to going again, when they have their brand new state-of-the-art owl center and it doesn’t feel like someone had just vacated the old general store. I did, in fact, enjoy my time at the International Festival of Owls. I just didn’t expect how much emotional distress it would put me through. So I left after lunch and had a brief visit to the town’s nature center. They had a rattlesnake skin. Neat!
After the owl festival, since I had some extra time, I hiked around at Carley state park, about an hour north of Houston, Minnesota. Still in the middle of nowhere, still much smaller than it ought to be, but still a nice time, just like the festival. Carley’s neat, even if it’s only like two hundred acres of land in the middle of corn. It’s got this cool river valley that’s braced on all sides by stone outcroppings that eventually curve into the rest of the land beyond, so it’s like a big bowl in the middle of some fields. And they have some stands of white pine, which is pretty rare in southern Minnesota in this day and age since they were mostly all logged out in the 19th century. I was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the park! And unpleasantly surprised by how slick the trail was! I should have known better. I should have been better prepared. I am an Eagle Scout, after all, it’s literally the motto. Be prepared. But instead of having crampons or hiking sticks, I scrambled up some icy trails by grabbing at trees and then gorilla-knuckled and slid my way back down, sideways, bent over in half like I was preparing to forward somersault off the cliff. Not that I was ever in any danger, there were no “steep” falls on any of the trails, but I’ve broken a collar bone by falling from two feet off the ground. You never can be too careful.
Later on that weekend, I also hung out with a friend, because I do have friends here, believe it or not! We went for a walk, and the snow was absolutely heavy. It stuck to everything, and it was that wet, clingy stuff that just covers every available surface but only on the windward side. We made our way over to the park I live near, and walked out on the frozen lake to poke around on the islands. Besides my apartment and my work, this park is probably where I have been the most in Minnesota. Scratch that, it definitely is where I’ve been the most. It is my third most spent-time location in the state, after home and work, probably by a country mile. So we took a walk there in the snow and just chatted, and it was a nice end to the weekend. And I got some cool pictures. Minnesota in March, everyone.
Alright, I’ve made you wait long enough, let’s finally get to these cat pictures. That’s what everyone is here for, right? That’s what my mom is here for, I’m sure. I love these cats. They have really grown accustomed to me, and Alex (the black one) now follows me pretty much everywhere I go. Besides waking me up at 7am every day on the dot to feed him, he also comes and sleeps in my bed, or sits behind me on the floor as I work. But even Julius (the orange one) has come out of his kitty PTSD-induced shell. He still stares into the dark corners behind the bookshelf and screams at the abyss, and seems to have a hard time making eye contact, but he’s very social now! He even comes up to me, on his own, and asks me to pet him. It’s great.
That same friend that I took that snowy walk with also came by my apartment for the express purpose of playing with Alex and Julius. She had previously watched them over Thanksgiving break, since it didn’t make sense to drive them all the way to Chicago for four days, so she already knew them and they kind-of-sort-of new her. At least they probably recognized her smell, unless Julius forgot it in his kitty-dementia-addled brain. They adored her attention, of course. But we discovered that Julius also might be partially blind as well as being partially deaf, since, when she tried to feed him some treats out of her hand, he kept nuzzling the underside of her hand and missing the treats. Like he… couldn’t see them, I guess? Not sure what that was about. Don’t worry, he got them all eventually. So did Alex. Alex, it turns out, also like pepperoni. So he can have them sometimes, as a snack. Julius does not like pepperoni.
The sad part of all of this is that I can’t take them to Europe with me. I would love to, but I imagine that, if I’m in grad school, I’ll be gone most weekdays and probably a lot of weekends, too. You know, traveling around Europe. Plus, I don’t think they would survive the plane ride, and I couldn’t in good conscience subject the entire rest of the plane to their constant meows and guaranteed shits in the carrier. Luckily, my dad has agreed to watch them for an indeterminate amount of time until I get back, but at that point, he’ll have had them far longer than I even have now, so won’t they really be his cats then? I don’t know. We’ll figure it out when we get there. It’s rough knowing that I’ll have to leave them and they won’t understand why. To a certain degree, I’m the only security they’ve really known ever since my grandmother began her slow, decade-plus-long deterioration. My dad will take great care of them, and I know they’ll warm up to him just as they’ve warmed up to me, and they’ll have plenty of company from him, but I hate the thought of them being confused and sad and wondering why they’re in this new place and when I get back. And I never do. They’re my little buddies! I love them! But, alas, this is just one of the many sacrifices I am making to pursue this other kind of a dream. If you’ll allow me a brief dip into some more melancholy, it seems, at times, that I leave only sadness and despair in my wake. I bear a certain amount of self-appointed guilt in these globe-trotting endeavors that I take on, and Alex and Julius are just one part of it.
That’s enough of that, though. No need to dwell on that any longer! I’ve got better things that I could be doing, and so do you, so let’s wrap this up. This is the last one for the week, and I saved it for last because it’s my favorite. Look at how cute they are! They’re cuddling! They love each other! It’s fucking adorable! They’re the easiest cats in the world and I love them. And I will be very sad to leave them when I go to Europe. So this is a bit bittersweet for me. But look at them and rejoice; they are happy together.
Thanks for stopping by to look at my Instagram page.
As a brief aside, I was recently forced to upgrade from my decades-old middle school Microsoft Word license that I had previously using on my desktop, and in doing so, I found that the only option I had to access the Microsoft Office suite was through a yearly subscription service! I was so pissed, because I’m pretty sure I bought a copy of Microsoft Word that I had installed on my computer. Nope! I guess not! So as the tech world moves inexorably towards subscription-services-everything as their primary mode of wringing every drop of profit out of us, I was forced to upgrade and get a fancy new copy of the Microsoft Office suite.
The good news about this is that it came with Microsoft Publisher! And I have now seen the light; after working with the Poor Man’s Photoshop that is a Microsoft Word-and-Microsoft Paint combo, I have realized the power of Microsoft Publisher. Well, you know, compared to Microsoft Word, anyway, which I had been genuinely using to produce my face-filled header images for, uh, more than a decade (what the hell, when did I get old? THIS IS THE THIRD TIME TODAY!), even since the YouTube days. And now that I’ve tasted that forbidden fruit, I can never go back to my old Microsoft Word days. You see this? This thing below? It took me like five minutes, and it wasn’t half as frustrating as good ol’ Word would have been! I always wondered what happened to the classic wavy Word Art fonts I used to title my papers in 3rd grade. It turns out that proper Word Art never even left us; it just migrated to Publisher. And now, so have I.
Happy reading, and may Funky Kong bless your week as he has blessed mine.
I’m glad you have gotten so attached to the cats! They will adjust & love dad. And will love you again when you come back. ❤️❤️