In a Blink, Pinfeathers.

(The owlet kind.) A GIVEAWAY, too—Leif Enger's PEACE LIKE A RIVER

Friends,

I’d heard she was sitting her eggs, so on March 25, I stopped by, snapped the first pics below with my iPhone, and cheered her on. I know, it’s fuzzy. The forest was dark, my zoom digital, and she’s up there a ways in that old-growth cedar she likes—but you get the idea. She squinted at me . . .

Then kept on snoozing.

I wasn’t sure when she’d started brooding, but since a Great Horned Owl sits her eggs for about 33 days, I returned April 18. This time I found her perched higher, still at her nest but off to the side.

In the time I’d been away, those eggs had hatched.

I couldn’t see babies yet, but she wasn’t mantling (covering them with loose, easy wings), so I guessed they’d already grown fuzz and could thermoregulate. Here she’s guarding, but no longer warming her nestlings—at least on that mild day.

And maybe she’s waiting for her mate? He fed her while she brooded, and since she’ll stay either on the nest or near it for the first two weeks post-hatching, he’ll bring meals to both her and the chicks.

I had things to do, so days passed without a visit. But on April 23, a friend alerted me: she’d seen the owlets above the nest rim—two of them.

I arrived to find these little guys, downy and oblivious, with no idea what lay beyond their cedar-framed world or how they’d fit into it. I'd been away five days—a blink, in the grand scheme—and here they were, half-grown. From eggs to pinfeathers in a matter of weeks.

Wondrous.

A touch of breakfast under her bill.

And how about those pinfeathers? Another month or so, and they’ll give new wings a try.

As all kids do, eventually. Mama knows.

How’s egg season in your world? I’d love to hear.

***

A book-in-process is an egg of sorts, and many of you have asked how All Her Wild Foxes (my current working title) is incubating. Thanks a million for asking and caring. It sure means a lot to me.

I do see a beak in the story. And bones. And, because it’s a twisty, turny historical novel, I have a detailed plot layout. And character sketches. And all sorts of thematic layouts and epigraphs. While I’ve tossed more pages than I did for any of my previous books combined, I currently have three parallel options in the works, all in different POVs (points of view): first person, past tense; third person, present tense; and third person, past tense.

Each benefits the book in different ways, but each also affects the “voice” of the tale, and as many of you already know, voice makes or breaks a narrative. Writing all three is a good exercise, and I’m learning a lot, but if I want this baby to hatch, I have to decide.

Somebody asked me why I don’t try first person present. Though first-first seems to be a trend these days, I ditched it pretty quickly. Works for others, but for this story, it felt gimmicky and wrong.

Any thoughts on all that?

***
Finally, from my BOOKERY 📙📙📙, a WINNER and a new GIVEAWAY!

Congratulations to SILVA EMERIAN! You won a set of my first two novels: Sugar Birds and Leaning on Air ! Please reply with your snail mail address, and I’ll send the books right off to you.

***
MAY’S GIVEAWAY will be for Leif Enger’s classic Peace Like a River. Ever read it? A lyrical, memorable story, my old copy remains on my shelf as an all-time favorite. I have a new copy for one of you!

Here’s the gist from the publisher:

A “reminder of why we read fiction to begin with” (San Francisco Chronicle), Peace Like a River is Leif Enger’s extraordinary debut novel—a heroic quest, a tragedy, a love story, and a haunting meditation on the possibility of magic in the everyday world—with over one million copies sold

Raised on tales of cowboys and pirates, eleven-year-old Reuben Land has little doubt that miracles happen all around us, and that it’s up to us to “make of it what we will.” Reuben was born with no air in his lungs, and it was only when his father, Jeremiah, picked him up and commanded him to breathe that his lungs filled. Reuben struggles with debilitating asthma from then on, making him a boy who knows firsthand that life is a gift, and also one who suspects that his father is touched by God and can overturn the laws of nature.

The quiet Midwestern life of the Lands is upended when Davy, the oldest son, kills two marauders who have come to harm the family; unlike his father, he is not content to leave all matters of justice in God’s hands. The morning of his sentencing, Davy–a hero to some, a cold-blooded murderer to others–escapes from his cell, and the Lands set out in search of him. Their journey is touched by serendipity and the kindness of strangers–among them a free spirit named Roxanna, who offers them a place to stay during a blizzard and winds up providing them with something far more permanent. Meanwhile, a federal agent is trailing the Lands, convinced they know of Davy’s whereabouts.

With Jeremiah at the helm, the family covers territory far more extraordinary than even the Badlands where they search for Davy from their Airstream trailer. Sprinkled with playful nods to biblical tales, beloved classics such as Huckleberry Finn, the adventure stories of Robert Louis Stevenson, and the westerns of Zane Grey, Peace Like a River unfolds like a revelation.

To enter, simply reply with PEACE in your subject line (or in the comments here, if you’re a brand new subscriber) by May 31 and I’ll drop your name in my garden basket for the end-of-the-month drawing.

Thanks for reading.

Now, back to my foxes. . .

Love,

Cheryl