Great Gray Owl

I stood in the bitter cold of a late September Yellowstone dusk for hours, waiting with bated breath at the Bridge Bay Marina for any sign of the elusive owl. Finally, to my utter disbelief, an apparition appeared at the far end of the lake. As the sky roared with the fading colors of sunset triumphant, the phantom Great Gray Owl made its way towards me as it hunted. When I looked into its yellow eyes, I could sense the fierce wild that was Yellowstone burning in the spirit of this bird. I will never forget the way it seemed to command and channel the twilight, melding into and out of the shadows, the Phantom of Yellowstone.

Christina Baal 2017