Still, the owl form appears—a laughable skeuomorph idling on fence posts and decrepit walls, a cheap mimicry that betrays the adaptive strategies of these noble creatures.  Like a small maple syrup jug with non-functional handle, these false idols are scattered about the countryside, dismissed by would be prey, gaudy deterrence machines all told.  Yes, yes– these regionally iterative trompe l’oeil reveal in reverse the mutant outgrowth of what was once called the picturesque.  Or, in other words, they reek of an inadequate ability to reset the sleep/wake cycle in response to info-environmental time cues, i.e. history is spatial: technocultural jet-lag.