Return Of the Night Owl

A route. Traveled many times in her life with her mate following close behind. Tonight, with the light of a full moon and the stars to help guild the way. The route planted firmly in her mind she flies alone. The air crisp, cool and heavy with the smells of the coming spring. She doesn't let this deter or sway her from her flight. She has caught a current headed in her direction and she lets it carry her onward. She's tired and her route seems as if it has gotten longer as she studies the ground for any movement. Eyes sharp, ears alert for any minor sound below. She has flown over the trees that has laid open fields ahead of her flight. The faithful air current now gone she restarts her flight. She hears a sound down below she turns with a flick of her tail. Flying lower, just about the tall grass she hears the sound again. She knows where it is as she ready's herself for the swope down, and with her talons she easily captures the rat. The rat dies instantly as she tears into the flesh with her sharp hooked bills. This meal will help give her the strength and refresh her energy for the journey ahead. She takes to the air and without even trying she is back on her route. The open fields soon open up to lights and sounds she has come to know well. Horns honking somewhere in the distance, sounds of crowds gather together, laughter and doors slamming. She flies on. Soon the city is behind her, and open fields lay ahead. The moon now has lowered in the night sky. It still helps guild her onward and closer to where she needs to be. There, up ahead in the distance she sees what she has been longing for. It's an old barn. Sitting out in a bare field with nothing around it for miles. It's a peaceful place but has been neglected. The red paint long gone exposing the wood to the elements. The barn leaning sideways from years of strong winds blowing. The roof nearly gone, the rust eating through the tin in places. One of the barn doors is laying on the ground outside the barn while the other door is barely hanging onto its hinge at the top. When the wind blows the door sways slightly. Years of seasons hasn't been good to the place she calls home. She flies through the open space where the door is laying on the ground and comes to rest on the dirt floor. She ruffles her feathers, shaking off her long flight and comes to a rest. She takes in the sight, the same sight she has seen many times. The times when her mate was with her. She takes a step forward, her eyes seeing and her ears hearing she takes another step. The old familiar barn with nothing left inside but the loft above. There, up there in that loft her mate beside her raising their owlets. She fly's up to the loft and lands softly as dust flies up in the air around her. Once the dust settled, she slowly walks to her old nest. Stepping into the nest she steps around making the nest more comfortable she starts to bring up pellets she adds to her nest. Satisfied with what she has done she settles in. The night moon now at the horizon slowly slipping away, the sky turning blue she glances around her home once more. The time has come for her as she closes her eyes. You see, this is the story of a barn owl that was lucky enough to make it to old age. She passed away in the early morning hours just before she was able to think of her life.