My Dearest Callias,
I find myself once again compelled to share with you a narrative gathered during my sojourns among the Pelasgians. One night, as we were seated around the camp fire, an owl began to hoot somewhere off in the darkness, which inspired one of my Pelasgian friends to tell the story of why the Owl is a creature who, though beautiful, is ashamed to come out in the day, and why the other birds – the sparrows, robins, finches and such – shun her company at all costs, though the eagle is not afraid of her.
In the days of the Early Race, when the boundaries between humanity and the natural world were fluid and animals had not yet lost their personhood, a youth was born to a cruel woman. In the customs of their tribe, only the mother could name the child, provide him with hunting weapons, and grant consent to his marriage. This mother, however, withheld these privileges from her son. Unyielding to the entreaties of her kin, she refused to bestow a name upon the boy, depriving him of his rightful place in the tribe.
Undeterred, the boy’s uncle, a sorcerer of great cunning named Dendrogenes, devised a plan to circumvent the mother’s obstinacy. He disguised himself and the young boy as strangers and they then visited the cruel woman, awaiting the moment when she would inadvertently name the boy. Fate intervened during a passing hunt when the boy skilfully struck the quarry with a stone that he picked up and threw. The mother, in awe of his dexterity, exclaimed Kalokopos (“good shot”), unknowingly bestowing a name upon her son.
This cunning sorcerer continued his ruse, magically disguising himself and Kalakopos again to visit the cruel mother. This time, Dendrogenes sought by stealth to cause her to provide the boy with hunting weapons. During their encounter, he brought down an enchantment upon the camp, making it seem that it was being attacked by lions. The sorcerer offered to aid in the defence if the mother could supply them with spears. She did so, and the enchantment dissipated, revealing that she had unwittingly granted her son the coveted hunting weapons.
But Dendrogenes’s endeavours did not end there. He implored the cruel mother to allow Kalakopos, now grown to manhood, to take a wife, yet her heart remained unyielding. “He may marry no woman born of a man or woman,” she proclaimed. Undeterred, Dendrogenes, skilled in the arts of magic, fashioned a wife for the young man from beautiful, sweet-smelling flowers. Thus, beautiful Antholepra became the wife of the youth. But while Dendrogenes had included all the ingredients necessary to make her beautiful, he omitted to include those that would ensure her strength of character.
Antholepra’s loyalty proved fickle, as she succumbed to the temptations of an affair with another man, then, what was far worse, she plotted to kill Kalakopos. Seeking to uncover her husband’s vulnerability, she cunningly tricked him into revealing the one way he could be harmed. He revealed that his Achilles’ heel, as it were, was that he could only be hurt if he was attacked while standing with one foot on a tub and the other on a goat’s back by the river.
Surprised by the strange nature of this vulnerability, Antholepra expressed disbelief that such a condition would ever naturally come about, and that he could therefore rest assured of his invulnerability. However, she conspired to exploit this invulnerability along with her lover. She pretended not to understand, so as to convince him to demonstrate the peculiar stance. So Kalakops set up a tub by the river and brought a goat and then demonstrated the stance that would make him vulnerable.
Exploiting this vulnerability, the other man, hiding on the other side of the river, hurled a spear at him, causing a grievous wound. The wounded Kalakopos transformed into an eagle and ascended into the sky, escaping the pain below. Dendrogenes, with his mystical abilities, then restored the wounded eagle to human form. However, Antholepra’s fate was sealed. In retribution for her betrayal, the sorcerer transformed her into a bird. Feathers grew all over her, and though she retained her beauty, out of shame at what she had done she would from that moment on only emerge under the cover of night. Shunned by the other birds for her unfaithfulness, she moaned through the darkness, a haunting lament for the choices that had forever altered her destiny. And this is why owls still behave in this way to this day.
And so, Callias, I present to you this tale of love, betrayal, and transformation, a story whispered by the wind through the ancient trees of the Pelasgian lands. May it serve as a reminder of the intricate threads woven into the fabric of existence and the consequences that accompany the choices we make.
She stands beneath the Moon's soft gleam,
A flower maid, a spectral dream.
A wondrous sight, a face so fair,
A fragrant bloom beyond compare.
Yet through the night, her mournful cries,
Still echo through the starlit skies.
A tragic tale, now veiled in night,
She goes in shame in feathered flight.
Until the next letter, my esteemed friend.
Warm regards,
Pseudohesiod
ROCK ART 4 REWILDING 