The Owl In The Barn

She sits outside in the cold, pondering what to do. Her mother and fellow chicks have left her. Alone. With no knowledge of how to survive. The obnoxious winter sun shines down on her delicate feathers. She keeps her eyes closed, as the bright sun is far too powerful for her delicate corneas to handle. A chill rests in the air above the snow. The sun shines on it, giving the usually dull, dark forest an unfathomable, insufferable glow.

Another creature makes the sound she does. The creature coos and hoos, high above her rest spot in the timber. Her eyes fly open. She is not sure how, but she knows. She knows this…other will kill her.

She waits. For the creature to sound again. Her feathers ruffle softly, and she stretches her small, limber legs in order to prepare to soar away from the tree. The creature calls again. Closer. She takes flight. A soft, yet brittle winter wind throws her off as she attempts to fly away. She hears a similar, familiar sound as to when she ruffles her own feathers behind her. She flies as fast as possible, cutting through the air like a knife, but it is not enough.

The creature is upon her. She catches a glimpse of it as it swerves in front of her path, sending her down. He looks much like she does. Graceful. Beautiful. But there are differences. He is large. His color is different, white and gleaming, as if he was only hatched to blend in with the snow surrounding her. His talons and beak are sharp. And he is ravenous. Hungry beyond her wildest imagination. Hungry…for her.

She is small next to him. His dark, cruel eyes flit around their surroundings. She has landed fine, not being killed on impact, able to catch herself slightly before making contact with the ground. He inches closer to her ominously, waiting for her to try and flee. She backs up slightly, but knows it will do no good. And yet she had a plan. Something is coming, tramping through the snow at a speed far too fast. It will soon be upon the two of them. But his insatiable hunger blinds him from what she already knows. And it is there. Fangs dripping with foam, shaggy fur tangled with branches, eyes with a cruelty and hunger far more great than his ever were. And he is gone. The beast is now full with the creature that was ever so hungry. And it was not her loss that stained the snow red. Not this time.

She has taken to the air. She did when the beast arrived, knowing it could not follow. And now she soars, wondering where to go. She cannot return to the timber that was her home for so long. His family could be waiting, and even if not, more of his kind could be. She flies for a long while, passing over large vast fields and other small forests she has never known. Twice she chases a field mouse when she has the opportunity, and twice, they burrow into the snow. She continues to fly, but begins to understand the other owl, and the other creature’s hunger. Though she refuses to stoop that low.

She grows weaker the longer she flies, lowering herself to the ground every little while. She could have stopped by now, but none of the dozens of places she has passed feel like…home. Home for the ever wandering, light, carefree, spirited creature. She wants to settle. Sort of. But she must come to a rest soon. And then she sees it. Old wood planks, once a beautiful red, carefully hold together the large structure. A strong roof with few weak points rests on top of it all. It is perfect.

She finds a small hole in the roof and dives in. A light musty smell wafts over her as she enters. The space seems bigger on the inside. The perfectly intact rafters stretch high above her as she now lands on the soft wood platform. She clicks her beak, wondering if others like her have made this place their home. Dozens of small owls, just of her size, just of her appearance stick their heads out, returning her call. They are not like the one who had tried to kill her. They are like her mother and fellow chicks, what little she saw of them. They look just the same. She lifts off the ground and lands on a rafter next to a few smaller chicks. It is a stretch for her petite mind to comprehend that she used to look just as they do. She rotates her head around to take it all in. Dozens of pairs, owls alone, and small chicks rest, feast, and chirp, all living up here.

She has found it. The perfect home. No one will hurt her here. She will find an owl to complete a pair. She will rest. She will eat. She shall stay in this place. She longs for her timber and yet prefers this. She shall become one. She shall finally feel an owl now that she knows what the owl from the forest saw. She shall stay. Here. As an owl of many in this barn.