A Mother's Flight

Athena was no stranger to loss. As the mirror of her husband’s eyes closed on her for the final time, she cursed the obtusity of the human race. Rat poison! Her white, heart shaped face betrayed the red rage of her anger, and her feathers ruffled and shivered at the memory of his last desperate breath. With Merlin gone, and her clutch having flown the nest, Athena found herself alone.

As a barn owl, it was now Athena’s job to defend her territory and await the arrival of a new mate. The sense of injustice was too much for her to even think about. She had plenty of time to mourn and mull things over. The nights were lonely without Merlin, and the days stretched, endless, ahead of her. She began spending time atop the branches of a particular silver birch. The position of the tree allowed her prime viewing through the windows of Little Forest Women’s Hospital, where new life entered the world. From the calm of Twilight Nature Reserve, she devoured the hum and buzz of events inside.

Portly nurses with friendly faces marched around with a sense of duty. They offered reassuring smiles and cooling hands to the foreheads of exhausted women as they laboured and groaned. Athena listened intently to the gasps when tiny heads and bodies emerged, screaming and bloody from their mothers. She noticed how often their young were delightfully dropped into the waiting arms of their mothers. The immediate swaddle of love was familiar to her. Her eyes widened as white shock arose in the faces of mothers whose babies were whipped away to have their tiny lungs inflated with life.

So full of love for one and other, she wondered how their species could so thoughtlessly kill her own. Day after day, Athena felt compelled to return to her perch. Perhaps it helped her through her own grief, watching the sadness and cheer of others come and go on the hospital’s conveyor belt, whilst all the while, the world continued to turn.

On one particularly low Thursday, Athena arrived at her perch before sunrise. She noticed a young woman waddling around her ward, massaging her swollen belly The labour was long, Athena observed, but the birth was quick, and quiet compared to the others she had witnessed. Athena waited for the father to come ambling in as usual, all proud jaw and swinging arms. No family arrived either. Alone with her baby now, the woman held a quiet sort of triumph. She cradled her newborn in her arms before surrendering to exhaustion. Athena remembered her own experience of laying eggs, feathering her nest, and the exhilaration as they finally hatched.

She recognised the joy of the woman when she held her baby girl for the first time. Bravely, and before making her flight home, Athena decided to move in for a closer look. Perched upon the sill of the window, and as pair slept, Athena narrowed her eyes, focusing on the baby, peaceful in the cot at her mother’s side.

Athena noticed a card above the baby’s head. She wondered what it said. Athena tried to breathe in some of the sweet-smelling serenity before her. Taking flight, she ventured deep into the forest where home was, feeling a little lighter than she had before.

The next day, Athena returned as usual to her perch. She noticed the lonely mother packing her belongings and readying herself for departure. After a final check around the bed and cabinet, the woman moved over to the cot. “Never wake a sleeping baby!” thought Athena. Instead, the woman bent down, kissed her baby on the forehead, and, with a heavy sigh, left without her. Athena’s tiny heart began to race. She refused to believe the new mother was abandoning her young.

Athena spread her wings. In silence, she whizzed past endless rows of wards and offices, sluices and cleaning cupboards, all boxed within the concrete conveyor belt of life. Maternity, gynaecology, neonatal, fertility. Hundreds of doctors sat in hundreds of offices filling in paperwork, dictating letters, reading reports. Little did they know the disaster that was unfolding before them – a motherless child!

Frantic, Athena perched on a lamppost. Her head bobbed and swayed, examining each face which emerged from the entranceway. After what seemed like an endless wait, the young woman emerged, and plopped herself on to a bench. Her head looked heavy in her hands, propped up by a pair of skinny wrists. Her belly now empty, her face was filled with despair. After a few minutes, the woman got up, wiped her tears on to her jeans, and stalked off to catch a bus. Athena considered what a lonely figure she cut as she departed the scene. Athena thought about following her, but what good would that do?

“Aww, she’s lovely!” cried the first nurse.

“Beautiful!” the second whispered.

Returning to roost on her silver birch, Athena watched the nurses cooing and bottle feeding the baby. Everything seemed perfectly calm and alright. The adrenaline having subsided, Athena still felt confused. As her belly rumbled, she realised she hadn’t eaten all day. Reassured that the child was being cared for in some shape or form, Athena made the lonely flight home. Her own young had been ready to leave home after a matter of months. Athena knew that this child was too young to be released. The strange events of today had piqued her interest, and she decided to observe the unfolding events. Perhaps the woman would come back for her baby.

Sodden and dripping, Athena squeezed into her homely cavity, high in an oak tree, deep in the forest. With a great shake, Athena expelled as much water as she could from her feathers. “Urgh!” Athena whirled around to find Hermes already inside, waiting for her.

“What are you doing here?” she exclaimed.

“Nice to see you too, Athena” he said with a grim glare, “Rhea sent me. We’ve noticed how much time you’ve been spending away from your territory… out at that… hospital. We’re worried about you.”

Athena felt her body stiffen, cut to the quick by his disapproval. Puffing out her chest, “I’m fine” she told him curtly.

“There are few of us left in the forest as it is!” Hermes cried, “You need to accept a new mate and bring a new clutch into the fold!”

With a sigh escaping her lungs, Athena turned away, eyes stinging with shame. Hermes felt he had overstayed his welcome, and she heard him push his way out and away.

A few days later, Athena once again found a comfortable branch with a decent view of the nursery. Babies didn’t spend too long here before heading home, but this baby had become something of a permanent fixture. Athena watched official looking people with folders, clipboards, wearing lanyards and badges, peering over the child, examining her, making notes. Athena began to wonder if the infant was due to go home or if she was about to be carted off to the Highland Show to compete for a prize.

Around a week later, Athena observed a couple visiting the baby in the nursery. Where they had thick, dark hair, the baby had a fine covering of fair. Where their eyes were dark pools, the baby gazed through a pair which were translucent. Something felt wrong to Athena. It was like the head of a wolf trying to squeeze its head through her tiny home. It didn’t fit.

They were smiling. Athena felt herself lean in closer to get a better look at the car seat which rested at their feet. Without much ado, the couple bundled her into the carrier and made off, their gait purposeful and jolly. The child’s screams pierced the glass, the air, and all that it touched. Athena felt a familiar racing in her chest. Powerless, she done all that she could do, and let out a short, sharp scream.

Although Athena was a different species, the fear of the human baby needing its mother was as palpable to her as it was to every nurse who smiled as they waved the trio goodbye.