Educated Psychic: Bird Omens I

I loved my aunt Doris, Uncle Charlie’s wife. I was maybe ten and followed her around like a puppy dog, and she let me. She was kind. I was a happy boy when I found out that she and Uncle Charlie were going to have a baby. I couldn’t wait to hold my new little cousin in my lap. My aunt Doris was beautiful! I always thought she looked like Susan Hayward in the movies.

Summer of ’47 came round and Aunt Doris had a huge belly. She wore a lift on one shoe and walked with a limp because of polio when young. That was before the Salk vaccine. Uncle Charlie built a garage house on the acre next to our place on the edge of Grandpa’s farm. Later they planned to build the big house up front. But poor lame beautiful Aunt Doris never lived to see it. My father and I, both psychic, sensed a storm brewing, that something bad was about to happen, but we didn’t know what at the time.

Three nights running that summer, the owls came hooting down on the roof of their small cottage and refused to leave. Uncle Charlie shot his .16 gauge in the air, but

they still clung and hooted. Hoo, hoo, hoo. That eerie sound chilled me to the bone. A psychic foreboding and dread haunted me. Soon after, Death came and took her.

An ambulance pulled up, sirens screaming in the sweet country air, and I saw Aunt Doris carried out on a stretcher looking like a huge mound under the white cover. Later that day she died. A brewing storm lit up the sky. The air was a sick yellow pink, thick and electric. Something terrible must be happening. I was right. Even as a kid I was very psychic and attuned to bad vibrations.

Thunder roared and lightening flashed the day my lovely Aunt Doris died. Her and the baby inside her tummy, a child severely deformed and retarded as it turned out. Nothing in poor Aunt Doris’ life had ever gone right, and my poor uncle Charlie was devastated. I watched him sob and cry over her still body laying in the casket clad in her pure white wedding dress, the baby inside her, to be buried together, mother and afflicted daughter.

Doris’ mother, a Scottish woman from Nova Scotia, when told about the owls just shook her head. “Had I ‘av known ‘bout the owls comin’ three nights in a row like that, I’d’ve known my Doris would die. An old Scottish legend, and true. When the owls coome an’ make their visit three in a row, someone in that house will surely die. My poor sweet daughter, a fine girl she was. No malice in her heart, she was pure as spring water.”

Forever after when I’d hear owls hooting off in the tree-line not far from my bedroom window, I’d shiver and quake. Fear and dread would flood my body, and I couldn’t sleep. Owls as omens played ever after in my mind. And not only owls. Other birds as well. Birds, harbingers of death, apparently are spirit possessed or somehow psychic, at least when it comes to things tragic.

Richard Lee Van Der Voort, M.A.  Please see my website that includes books, blogs and services at http://psychicconsultingbyemail.com and more blogs at blogster.com.psychicexcellence  For information my e-mail address is psychicmind.vandervoort231@gmail.com