Singing To The Barn Owl

Singing To The Barn Owl; A New Beginning

I inherited a country estate, which consisted of a house, a barn, and five and a half acres where two horses had been kept. I’d been longing for a place in the countryside where I didn’t have to listen to traffic noises and barking dogs. Well, now I could get dogs if I wanted them, and I figured I could tolerate their barks since they were family. The house seemed in reasonable shape. It needed a good cleaning, but so did my house in the city. Walking toward the barn, I noticed one of the windows was open. I hoped the exposure to the elements hadn’t damaged what was inside. I saw no signs of deterioration when I entered. I saw no mold or fungi, although I didn’t know if I’d recognize those elements if they were present. The barn had two horse stalls, plus a common area where I imagined hay had been kept. I saw small dung pellets scattered on the floor. I guessed they were from one or more owls. I looked up at the rafters. I didn’t see any owls or other birds. Perhaps the owl or owls only came in at night, after they’d hunted during the day for mice or whatever else was on their diet.

I left the window open as I exited. “Hello, owl or owls,” I said. “You’re family now.”

In the next few days I read up about horses. They can be skittish. Well, I could be that way as well. I would need a horse trailer to take them to a vet. The care and maintenance involving them might take hours each day. Help! I decided to at least defer the possibility of owning them.

I also perused the literature about owls. They weren’t high maintenance. In fact, they required no maintenance at all, provided they weren’t in a cage and could come and go as they pleased. During that reading, I learned about feather picking in birds. It’s a complex phenomenon which can result from many different causes, each of which, I guessed, would cause the bird to be unhappy. I didn’t want my family, non-human or human, to be unhappy. I didn’t have a human family at the present time. Well, maybe that would change.

I felt optimistic that next week. Hired a cleaning company tor the house I’d inherited, worked at my job with a song in my heart, went to the gym while looking forward to getting my exercise in the countryside once I’d moved, and finally hired a van to transport some belongings to the Pastoral Estate which now was mine.

On the third night of being there it occurred to me that something was missing. “Everything is fine,” I said to myself. “The 17.7 miles of commuting to and from work isn’t a burden. The breezes have a refreshing nature to them which I’d never noticed in the city. I hadn’t realized I’d been on edge in the city, but I was and I’m no longer that way. Bless you, Aunt Jenny and Uncle Bill. Thank you for this inheritance.” But nevertheless…

I decided to go to the barn and check if any owls were there. Taking a flashlight, I made my way carefully over the uneven path in which some pebbles lurked. But once inside the barn, I decided not to shine the flashlight upwards. The light might startle what was up there. I didn’t want any bird to be alarmed. I listened carefully, the flashlight aimed toward the floor. I heard no whir of wings or any other bird-like sounds. Based on what I didn’t hear, I guessed there was only one owl present, if indeed it was there. “Hello,” I said to it while lifting my face up. “I am not a mouse. I am a human. Think of me as family.” After a minute or so I said, “I’ll be back tomorrow evening. Thank you for your company.” I closed the barn door softly.

The following night, inside the barn, I had an inspiration. “If you’re there,” I said, “I would like to sing to you.” What should I sing? Nothing occurred to me. “This is the owl song.” I began a wordless humming which varied across the lows and highs my voice was capable of. The highs were more of a screech than a humming, but I hoped the owl wouldn’t mind. Somehow I had the spontaneity to continue that song for almost five minutes. It was a release. It was something I’d needed. The owl, by listening, was doing me a good deed.

The following evening, I said to it before beginning a new song, “Once you get used to me, I’ll shine the flashlight in your direction. Don’t be afraid. I’m a creature, but I’m harmless. I won’t take your mice from you. I won’t seize you in my jaws and take you to my lair. I’m your friend, now and always.” The words surprised me. Apparently I had some inner depths which I hadn’t been aware of at my usual conscious level.

“You look different,” a woman said to me at work the next day. We’d scarcely talked before. Her name was Grace, and she had unimposing features which some people might consider plain, but now I realized she was really quite attractive, in a kind sort of way.

“Thank you, Grace,” I said. “In fact, I’ve been having some new experiences.”

“How interesting.” Her smile was gentle, just like her face.

I ventured, “Maybe someday I could tell you about them.”

“I’d like that.” She continued to smile.

I wondered if the barn owl sooner or later would have two humans to sing to it.