Of Owl and Man

***THE FOREST***

“Will you tell us a bedtime story?” the little ones asked.

“Of course I will, my darlings. What kind of story would you like to hear this time?” their mother replied in a loving tone.

“Tell us a special story!”

“I see. Let me then tell you a truly extraordinary one indeed: the story of your grandpa and how he once befriended a man. Would you like to hear it?”

The little ones jumped in their beds and clapped in excitement. “Yes!” they shouted in unison. Then they lied down, slipped under their covers and became all ears.

“Once upon a time…”

***THE HOUSE***

As the children were getting ready for bed, through the window they spotted an owl sitting on a branch of an old oak tree.

“Look, mommy! There is an owl there!” one of them cried excitedly. “Tell us a bedtime story about owls!”

Their mom looked out the window and indeed, a barn owl was perched there. It seemed to be curiously watching and studying them. She smiled at it nostalgically and turned to her kids again.

“A story about owls, you say? All right. I’ll tell you a story about one special owl and one special man: your grandpa and his companion owl. Are you ready?” she said as nostalgia continued to grow in her.

“Whoa, yes!”

“Your grandpa—my father—was an extraordinary man. You surely don’t remember him, as you were then too little, but he still lived here with us after you were born. He was particularly known for his passion for owls and his deep connection with them. He used to know everything about them. Most of his old books are still here. Tomorrow I’ll look for them and show them to you if you want. They are beautifully illustrated.

“One day, when I was just a little older than you, during one of his long walks in the forest, he stumbled upon a very young and sick owl. ‘It must have strayed too far from home and got lost. Normally, you don’t see owls in this part of the forest,’ he said to us when he brought it home. ‘One of its wings is badly broken. It is starving, too.’

“He took great care of that little owl. He fed it and he tended to its broken wing; he knew precisely what to do. The owl soon made a full recovery and your grandpa wanted to release it back into the wild. Yet the owl refused it. Every time it would follow him back into the house. And so, even if he thought its place is among its kin in the forest, he eventually accepted the owl’s wish to stay with him. Actually, I’m pretty sure that he secretly loved the idea of having a companion owl of his own and that he was more than happy about this turn of events.

“Very soon they became best friends. The owl proved to be a pretty smart and playful animal, and so your grandpa decided to try something extraordinary. He had read some stories about it in one of his books, but back then he considered them to be just that: stories. Or maybe he didn’t? Nonetheless, he wanted to give it a go. And so began his adventure with trying to teach his owl some magic tricks.

“To the amazement of us all, his attempts were successful. The owl was curious and eager to learn. It was clearly having fun, too. After a while, he and his owl became quite an attraction. They would travel around to different fairs and perform tricks for the audience’s amusement. Sometimes he would take me with him. It was quite a show! People had never seen an owl perform magic tricks before.

“This was a very happy time for all of us. Everybody at home loved the owl and the owl surely loved us back. It must have been endlessly grateful to your grandpa for having saved its life.

“As time went by, they grew closer and closer. He even claimed that he could speak with the owl—and with other owls, too. Of course, we all laughed at it and we thought it was just a joke; it was too silly to be true. Teaching an animal tricks is one thing; speaking with it is another. Yet sometimes I think he truly believed he could do that.”

She paused for a while and looked out the window again. The owl was still there, watching. Perhaps listening, too. A tear formed in her eye and started flowing down her cheek, as the story would now take a dark turn. Without a doubt, the details had to be omitted when telling it to the children.

The dark time began when her father’s dementia started setting in and—slowly but surely—depriving him of memories and identity. He began getting confused about who he and the people around him were. She’ll never forget the first time he failed to recognize her as his daughter. “And who are you, beautiful lady? You have such marvelous eyes. I must introduce you to my nephew,” he told her on that occasion. She was heartbroken.

There were better days and worse days, but the disease was surely and inevitably progressing. Every once in a while, he would leave the house and be gone for hours, but he would always return. Naturally, they could have kept him under lock and key forever, but they just didn’t have the heart to do that. He loved the forest so much; it was a second home for him. They just couldn’t take that away from him. Besides, the owl was always by his side. They entrusted it with his safety—and indeed with his life. It was his guardian: they trusted it would protect him and help him find his way back. After all, they had walked the forest paths together countless times. He was safe.

She wiped the tear away and turned once again to the kids. They were on the verge of falling asleep. She continued: “One day, we woke up and your grandpa wasn’t at home. The owl was gone, too. It wasn’t unusual, as they loved going for long walks together. He would often joke that they had secret owl meetings to attend. Daddy and I decided to look for them, but we couldn’t find them. They must have gone to a very important and very secret owl meeting indeed,” she said as a forced smile appeared on her face.

“Where is grandpa now, mommy?” one of the children asked, half asleep at that point.

“Oh, he must have decided to stay and live among the owls, somewhere in the forest. He always liked it there. I’m sure he has a lot to talk about with them, and they too are happy to have him among them,” she replied in a dreamy and wishful tone.

The children were now fast asleep. She kissed their little foreheads goodnight, turned off the bedside lamp and left the room. She felt like she needed some fresh air, so she put on her jacket and stepped outside the house. Memories of the desperate yet fruitless search for her father started coming back to her. He was never found and was officially considered missing.

At first she blamed herself for it, but deep inside she knew she had done the right thing. Keeping him locked in the house and away from the forest until his very last day would have been for him a worse fate. He didn’t deserve that. Despite his progressing illness, he was at least able to do what he loved most until the end.

She took a deep breath and sighed. Suddenly, she noticed that the owl was still there, studying her carefully. What she did not notice, however, was the tear flowing down the owl’s cheek. “He lives among the owls now,” she said quietly to herself and she smiled melancholically. “If only this were true.”

***THE FOREST***

“From then on, the two of them began living together in the forest. But the man never truly forgot his family. There were days when he remembered and he missed them deeply. Yet he knew that he had made the right decision, for he was mostly lost as a man and for the world of men. There was no point in going back.

“Every now and then, in his moments of clarity, he would send your grandpa to watch his family and bring him the news. This way—indirectly and from hiding—he could continue to witness the life of his beloved daughter and his grandchildren. It warmed his tired and largely confused heart. Naturally, your grandpa fulfilled this duty with pleasure. After all, they were his family, too.

“One day, when the man knew the end was near, he had a final moment of clarity. He wanted to see his family for the last time, but he was too weak to make the trip home. He asked your grandpa for a final favor: to once again visit his family, but this time perform some old tricks for them. He could only hope that his daughter would recognize them and would follow his best friend back through the forest to find him and to meet him. Without delay, your grandpa departed.”

***THE HOUSE***

“Mommy, the owl is here again! It’s doing magic tricks! I think it’s grandpa’s owl. Come and see!” one of the children shouted from the garden.

The mother shook her head and smiled, admiring the children’s imagination. She rinsed the plate, placed it on the drainer, dried her hands with a cloth and left the house.

Once outside, she looked at the old oak tree and she saw the owl there. Already from a distance she remarked its unusual behavior. She frowned briefly and started making her way towards the kids. She was genuinely intrigued.

“See, mommy? I told you!” a child said, excited. They watched the owl together for a while.

“Let’s try to get a little closer, shall we? But silently and slowly; we don’t want to scare it away,” she said quietly and they began their approach.

The owl was not afraid. It dutifully continued doing what had been asked of it: performing magic tricks. Barely a meter separated them now.

Suddenly it struck her: it wasn’t just the children’s imagination. It truly was her father’s owl doing the same magic tricks that had amused her so much in the past. She was dumbfounded.

“Is this grandpa’s owl, mommy?”

“Yes, it is,” she replied matter-of-factly. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “But how—”

“Whoa!” the children screamed in unison and opened their eyes wide. “What is it doing here? Did it come to visit us?”

Before she could reply, the owl took to the air, turned its head towards the forest, flapped its wings intensely and screeched.

“It wants us to follow it!” one of the children cried excitedly. The owl spun around and screeched again. “Mommy, can we follow it? Please!”

She found herself suddenly overwhelmed by a confusing mix of nostalgic disbelief and melancholy, but also love and renewed hope. She was drowning in it and she was trembling. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath; she had to collect herself.

“Let’s go,” she finally said. The owl spun around again, screeched and started slowly flying towards the forest. It turned around just once to make sure that the humans followed. And follow they did: the children, mesmerized by an owl from a fairy tale, and their mother, clinging to some irrational hope of perchance discovering what had become of her long-lost father.

***THE FOREST***

After a somewhat lengthy journey through the forest, they arrived at an old tree house, pretty low to the ground. It was of significant size and, despite its age, it looked rather well-maintained. The door was left ajar. The owl invited them in with a spin and a screech. They entered the house: first the mother, then the children and finally the owl.

Once inside, they saw a bed-ridden old man. He looked extremely weak and frail. He seemed to have recognized the woman immediately, and she too recognized him. There was no mistake: it was her long-lost father. Tears of joy appeared in their eyes and smiles on their faces. She rushed for the bed and took the man in her arms.

“Father!” she cried.

“My child,” he replied in a very faint voice.

The reunited father and daughter’s embrace was long and strong and their tears of joy were countless.

“I love you,” the old man whispered into her ear. “I’m so sorry.”

Alas, their happiness did not last long. As they were holding each other tight and weeping, she suddenly felt all his muscles relax and his breath stop.

“No!” she screamed. “No! No! No!” And then she sobbed like never before. Still holding her father’s now lifeless body in her arms, she recognized immediately there was nothing she could do: it was her father’s will to die like this, there and then.

“What happened, mommy?” a child asked.

She could barely contain her utter grief and the tears that had been so quick to change from those of joy to those of misery. She finally let go of the embrace and laid the old man’s body on the bed in such a way that it resembled that of a sleeping man. She tried extremely hard to regain her composure.

“Nothing, my dear,” she replied. “Grandpa is just very old and tired. He needs rest and he simply fell asleep. Let’s go home now, we will visit him another day.”

The owl, which had been quietly sitting on a table all this time, suddenly took to the air. Holding something in its paws, it made its way towards the woman and dropped the item onto her lap; it was a letter. She didn’t have the strength for this; she simply folded it and placed it in a pocket.

Before she managed to get up, the owl sat down on her lap. It looked her right in the eyes and shrieked mournfully; tears were flowing down its face.

“I’m so sorry,” the woman said and she stroked the owl’s head gently. “I’m so sorry.”

The owl shrieked once more, sadly and loudly, and flew outside through the open door. The woman got up, took a final look at her father’s lifeless body and then at her kids. She sniffled and wiped the tears off her cheeks.

“Let’s go,” she said. “We’ll come back another day.”

They left the house. The owl was nowhere to be seen. She decided to take a closer look at the building and suddenly it dawned on her: it was the secret tree house her father had built for her when she was little and where they had spent countless joyful hours together. At some point—for a reason she could not recall—they just stopped going there altogether. She had since completely forgotten about its existence. But now she remembered, and she finally began to understand.

***THE HOUSE***

When they came back from the forest, her husband had already returned from work and he greeted them on the porch.

“Hello, my darlings!” he exclaimed cheerfully as he crouched and kissed each of the children on the forehead. Then he got up, smiled and embraced his wife. “Hello, love.”

“Daddy! Daddy! You won’t believe what happened today!” one of the kids screamed.

“Could you take the kids somewhere for an hour or two? Please. I’ll explain everything later,” she whispered into his ear in a very serious tone.

“Is everything alright? You’re shaking,” he whispered back, worried.

“I’ll explain later. Please.”

“All right,” he said and kissed her on the cheek.

“Daddy! You’re not listening!” the other kid screamed impatiently.

“I’m listening! I’m listening! Who wants to go for a ride to the city? A little bird told me they have some new flavors of ice cream! You will tell me everything on the way, okay?”

“Yay!” the kids cried in unison and they ran straight to the car.

Their father followed them right away. The engine started and the woman watched the car as it disappeared in the distance. She then entered the house and headed to the bedroom. She sat on the bed, took the letter out of her pocket and unfolded it. She immediately recognized her father’s handwriting. The letter was short, yet she couldn’t help but notice just how much effort it had required of the sick old man to write it.

My dear child, please forgive my sudden disappearance. As I was slowly but surely losing myself in my illness, I realized it was the best thing to do. I didn’t want you to witness my mind inevitably disintegrate; I didn’t want to be a burden.

It was without doubt the hardest decision in my life, and I know it carried with it an immense amount of pain for everyone concerned. I missed you dearly during my moments of clarity and I suffered terribly. Yet I knew that this pain, even if sudden and sharper at first, would be better than the drawn-out struggle of having to nurse a sick old man who could barely recognize himself and his loved ones anymore. You, who are young and who have such a wonderful family of your own, shouldn’t be burdened with this. I simply wanted you to be able to focus on your beautiful life together.

I hope one day you will understand and you will forgive me. I love you.

P.S. Do you now believe that I could truly speak with owls?

Tears of love and grief flooded her eyes. With the letter still in her trembling hands, she wept hard and long, until it was no more physically possible for her to weep. She wept until all the anger and grief were purged and there was only love left inside of her.

“I believe you, father,” she whispered and sniffled. “I believed you all along. And I forgive you.”

She got up, placed the tear-stained letter on the bedside table and she went to the living room. She sat down by the phone, opened the phone book, picked up the handset and she started making funeral arrangements.

*** THE CEMETERY***

The day of the funeral was extraordinary. Dozens upon dozens of owls came to witness it; there was no tree on the cemetery without an owl perched on it. When the ceremony was about to end, they all suddenly took to the sky. Then, one by one, they flew over the old man’s grave and each of them shed a feather onto it, thereby honoring and paying respect to the one who was once their dear friend. The human attendees were stunned.

But it was only after the last of the owls had paid its last respects that something truly remarkable happened. All the owls took to the sky once again and burst into a marvelous dance. In perfect synchronicity, they performed fantastic figures against the blue summer sky, all the while screeching rhythmically and melodically. The show was mesmerizing and seemed almost otherworldly; everyone was astonished by this unprecedented, exquisite choreography. Truly, the owls knew how to bid their human friend farewell in style.

***THE FOREST***

“Once the owls finished their dance, they all flew back to the forest and lived happily ever after,” the mother owl said to the little ones. “I have since taken it upon myself to be the human family’s guardian owl. I continue my father’s duty. Every once in a while, I visit them and watch them from a branch of the old oak tree. If you want, one day I will take you with me, my sweet little ones.”

The baby owls did not reply, for they were already fast asleep, dreaming about the beautiful dance of the owls against the blue summer sky.