Guardian

I was a young child when I first heard the call of the barn owl. Most people are startled by the haunting screech, but for some reason I always found it comforting. I would look for him every day, sometimes getting lucky and seeing him gliding high above me. Every night at sunset as I went inside for dinner, I would hear him calling, as if he was bidding goodnight.

One gloomy afternoon I was climbing a tree and I noticed that from this height I could see down the lane to where an abandoned house stood. My mother told me once that the owl lived there. "You might not see him," she said, "but you know he is there by the dropped feathers and rodent bones." I remember her finding a mouse skull once and bringing it home for me to see. An odd treasure for sure.

The decrepit house was an old turn-of-the-century farmhouse that had been deserted when the homeowner died. It sat empty for years, slowly rotting away like a dropped apple in the orchard. The roof had deteriorated to the point where a sizeable hole opened into the attic space. From my lookout in the tree I could see a broken and dusty rocking chair tucked in a corner. On the seat of this chair I saw a pile of forest debris; old leaves, some twigs and strips of faded fabric that most likely belonged to my wind-torn kite that I abandoned in the thicket last summer. It was late afternoon, so I knew the owl was not out hunting prey just yet. I grew excited at the prospect of seeing my feathered friend as more than just a speck in the sky. I climbed up another branch, straining my neck, intently searching for any sign of him when I heard a loud crack. Then everything went dark.

I woke up on the ground, looking up at the sky. I blinked a few times trying to get my bearings. I turned my head to the left and saw the broken tree limb next to me. I don't know how long I was laying in the damp grass, but the sun was getting close to the horizon. My senses slowly started to return and I realized I felt a sharp pain in my ankle. I sat up and gave a little whimper realizing the seriousness of my predicament. The gray skies were getting darker and I felt a slight drizzle tickle my nose. My mother didn't know I was this far from the house and wouldn't hear me if I called for her.

I started to panic when suddenly I heard soft chattering above me. I squinted into the canopy and tried locating the source of the sound. A flash of white moved through the branches. "Could it be?", I wondered. I swung my head around and around trying to follow the blur of feathers circling the top of the tree. The owl made his way closer to me, gliding on his outstretched wings, keen eyes glinting with each turn of his head. I watched him dance with the wind for a few more minutes until he touched down on the fallen branch beside me.

Eyes wide, I looked at this beautiful predator next to me. His perfectly framed heart-shaped face was the purest white. His intense black eyes were a stark contrast to his plumage. He cocked his head as if to ask, "What are you doing here?" I felt obligated to answer.

"Oh Mister Owl, I am in so much trouble. I was climbing the tree and fell out when the branch broke. My mom doesn't know I'm here and I think I hurt my ankle." I rushed the story out in one breath, hoping he didn't startle and fly away mid-sentence.

He stayed still, silently observing me before letting out a quick screech as if to say, "Silly girl, you should be more careful climbing these old trees."

I started to shiver as the drizzle turned to a light rain. The owl hopped the length of the branch closer to me. He tilted his head and studied my face. I wanted to run my fingers over his silky feathers and pet his head like I would my dog. I slowly reached my hand forward and he took off in flight. Disappointed and scared, I started to cry. I had no idea if anyone would find me before nightfall. I was cold and hurt and hungry. I laid flat on my back and let the rain mix with my tears.

As I lay crying, I heard the owl screeching off in the distance. I looked skyward to see if he would pass overhead, but he did not. I took a deep breath and gave what I thought was my best owl screech, trying to call him back. I laid in silence for a few minutes and tried again. This time I heard him call back. He swooped back down, a small rodent in his talons. I crinkled my nose, "I'm not THAT hungry". The owl blinked then bent down and began devouring his snack with his hooked little beak. I watched, half fascinated and half queasy. He finished most of his kill and flew off with the rest. Alone again, I laid on the ground trying to think warm thoughts.

Suddenly, I heard a bark in the distance. It sounded like my dog Gertie, but I wasn't sure. I whistled and shouted her name, trying to get her attention. The barking got louder and louder until Gertie plowed through the brush and landed just next to my head, barking in delight. She lowered her head and covered my face in dog kisses, excited to see me. "How did you get out, girl?" I knew mom kept her inside on rainy days or else Gertie would leave giant muddy prints all over the house. Gertie looked up and back towards the brush as if to answer that question.

"Gertie! Come back, girl!", someone shouted. I felt my heart explode- it was my mother!

"MOM!" I shouted so hard I thought my lungs would burst.

My mother came through the bushes following the path that Gertie had trampled just previously. "Wait, what are you doing here?" She then noticed the tree limb on the ground. Slight exasperation turned to intense parental concern, "Oh my baby! Are you alright?" She scooped me up off the ground.

"I was climbing the tree and fell and my ankle hurts", I pouted.

She took off her sweater and wrapped me in it. "Let's go home and clean you up and call the doctor. You're lucky Gertie escaped when I took out the trash, otherwise who knows how long you'd have been alone out here."

"I wasn't alone, mom", I told her the tale of my visit with the barn owl. "He stayed and made sure I was ok."

My mom smiled at my youthful imagination and hugged me tight as she navigated through the brush back to the road. I was wrapped around her like a baby monkey, legs dangling at her waist and arms around her neck. As we neared the house, I heard a familiar screech. The owl was floating in the sky above us, darting in and out of the clouds. I waved and whispered "thank you" as he followed us to the edge of our yard. His mission complete, he spun back towards the crumbling farmhouse and the rest of his dinner.