Part of a poem that was shared in the article:
"The owl doesn't make a sound.... She is still.
She watches us. What is the consciousness of a
spotted owl? There she perches perceiving us, and
here we sit perceiving her. We exchange the long,
slow, interspecies stare - no fear, no threat, only
the confusing mystery of the other. Perhaps she
thinks we are owls. We do not look like owls. But we
do, briefly, behave like owls, catching and offering
prey, being still, and turning our eyes to the forest"
She watches us. What is the consciousness of a
spotted owl? There she perches perceiving us, and
here we sit perceiving her. We exchange the long,
slow, interspecies stare - no fear, no threat, only
the confusing mystery of the other. Perhaps she
thinks we are owls. We do not look like owls. But we
do, briefly, behave like owls, catching and offering
prey, being still, and turning our eyes to the forest"
From: The Owl, Spotted (2006, On Earth) A. Deming