How Fares the Snowy Owl?

Writing from the studio as I watch the snow sift down, lifting the big rig every few minutes or seconds to fire away at jays, robins, sparrows and towhees in the snow, I'm keenly aware of my self-assumed role, shrugged on once again, of Press Agent to a Beloved Animal. I know everyone wants an update, and now! I've got some humans here, me being one of them, who need attention in that odd,