Barn Owl

I was stuck. In between a rock and a ridged place. I was prey to great eyes that scanned my environment. Writhing to peel myself away from my plight. Lungs burning from exertion. Above, she lurked. I could hear the scratching on the beam about me as she paced. Those eyes. I knew those huge dark eyes would be watching. I knew she would be listening for my breath, for my squirm.

I stop wriggling, inhaled deep. The tick tick tick of her claws stopped. I knew I was spotted. With one last supreme effort I pushed myself out of my entanglement. Pain roared through my legs when blood was pumped into them once more. I registered it only for a moment before I heard the diving rush of her attack. I was off running. Skittering this way and that, trying to break an obvious path of escape. Talons lashed at my tail and hide. I was close now to my home, the safe spot. With a crash I raced into my hole so quickly I slammed into the end of my home. Her claw pushed through the entrance and searched for me. Retreated, then her eye came down to peer at me. She watched me for a few seconds, and took off. Her wings beating like war drums in the deep.

Being a mouse isn’t anything like it’s made out to be. I don’t get to sit atop a chef’s head and pull his hair to make delicate cuisine. In fact, is pretty terrible being of this nature. Everything on this farm is trying to kill me. From snakes to dogs, traps, cats and the mother owl. She knew this farm from every nook to every stone. Her eyes forever watching for movement. For as long as I had been here, she had been hunting me.

My life hadn’t always been terrifying survival. I was once king of a place. Regent of a great department store. Friends and family surrounded me and together we would feast day and night. The only risk of the job was traps and exterminators sent for our demise. But we were cleaver in numbers. Devising tricks, we would scratch at corners far away from our homes. Or use our unfortunate deceased to set off snap traps. It was a brutal way to send off our loved ones. But everyone knew sacrificing your body once you had departed for the colony was the noble thing to do.

One afternoon I was frolicking in a warm bag of corn with a half a dozen of my cousins. When suddenly the opening of the heshen bag was sealed shut. We felt the movement of the bag being lifted and carried, then we were thrown against the sides. For hours we were stuck in that heshen bag until at long last we had arrived at this horrid place. We were lifted once again and all the contents slapped onto the ground. They were upon us immediately. Sharp teeth, gnashing jaws and furious eyes. Farmers stamped at us while dogs grabbed us and shook us to death. I squealed for my comrades. Infront of my eyes they were being slaughtered.

I ran, like a coward I ran and ran and ran. I didn’t look back until I couldn’t hear their screams any longer. Until my eyes were blind with tears. It was in the barn where it was quietest, she spotted me. When I had thought myself safe, or safe enough to think. The beating of her wings echoed through my body. I again ran, and managed to find my home. A crack in the side of a horse stall.

I’ve been hungry ever since. I can still smell my comrades’ blood; I can still hear their screams. If not want for reprieve from this consuming hunger, I would choose to stay hidden. But still, I venture out to hopefully find something. To dodge shadows and sunlight alike. To wince every time I see movement. To camouflage forever away from the barn owl.