Return of the Night Owl

Return of the Night Owl

Kyle R. Yonker

The moonlit night, so cold and dark, yet eerily beautiful, with the taste of winter present in the air, looming once more. All the woodland beasts would be preparing, each in their way. The mighty bears resting in hibernation, the wise wolves hunting ever more frequently, the cunning fox saving strength, and the many birds fleeing south to warmer weather.

The beautiful white Owl, however, would be doing no such thing. To the Owl, winter was of little danger. He had his home in the old abandoned barn, a warm nest that would provide sanctuary when needed. There was plenty of prey for one with the eyes of an Owl.

Even now, while resting his wings in the safety of the barn, the Owl could see all. He could see the little rustles of movement, the parting of weeds and grass, and the normal signs that something small was scurrying across the land near the barn.

There are other things that stalk at night as well. The Owl can see the biggest hunter in the woods. The Owl was old; he has traveled from other woods, other lands, and this hunter is the strongest he has ever seen.

He does not fear this great hunter, for he has learned it does not hunt his kind. Unlike most animals of the wood, this hunter is very particular about what it wants. For this, the Owl feels a sort of relief, in his way.

The great hunter is bigger than even the mighty bears, but can still move so softly that even the Owl can miss its approach. It is fast too, much faster than the deer that dance through the forest floor with grace. The great hunter reminds the Owl of a deer sometimes. The antlers are likely what gives this effect. The great hunter has some of its own, though they are larger and sharper than any deer.

The Owl has often thought how easy it would be to impale his prey on the great hunter’s horned crown, but his feelings towards the creature stop such action. All animals have a feeling to them, the Owl has learned. The bears are calm and confident, while the field mice are frightened and skittish. The great hunter though only ever feels one way: hungry.

It is not the same hunger the Owl feels, rather, it is a deeper hunger – a more desperate hunger. Strangely the Owl has noticed that the creature acts much like the bear, though in reverse. While the bear rests in the winter and hunts in the summer, the great hunter seems to rest in the summer and hunts in the winter.

The Owl’s head jerked to the side – there was movement. He had been watching the same place for nearly a day now. A little field mouse has been hiding, only now braving to peek its little head out.

The feeling of the little creature’s warm insides could be felt even now. The Owl had to dig his talons into the wood of the barn to keep himself from reacting too early. He had to wait, so he did. He waited and he watched. As he did, he noticed that the great hunter had also seemed to catch the scent of its own prey. It was now disappearing into the dark of the trees, blending with the shadows, moving silently.

Even the Owl felt a chill that did not come from the cold. Such concerns were not for him, though. Stretching out his white feathered wings, he shook the cold from himself and leaped into the air. The wings of the Owl caught the air silently, lifting him higher and higher.

For a brief moment, the moonlight crashed upon the Owl, framing it beautifully against the clear night sky. The moment ended and the bird was hidden from view. Soaring high the Owl watched the little mouse. It could not see the danger. Another sight caught the Owl’s attention. A human, small, long-haired, and young; the Owl could not always tell with their kind but this time he was confident in his knowledge.

He could see the great hunter following her. Like the little mouse whose head was inching ever farther out, she did not see the danger. The Owl flew lower circling above, its silent wings gently carrying him closer to his prey. A little ways off, he could see the girl making her way towards the barn. Silently, the great hunter followed.

The bird could see fear in the girl, the same fear the mouse had. They could not see, smell, or hear the danger, but somehow part of them knew. The mouse knew, the girl knew, in this moment instinct had told them the truth: they were prey… they were the hunted.

The little mouse crawled completely out ready to look for food – the girl left the safety off the crowded woods to get to the safety of the barn. The Owl dropped; the great hunter bolted.

Plummeting in a dive that almost could not be controlled, the Owl opened his talons and broke his fall at the last moment, flying just above the ground at breakneck speed rather than crashing. His talons now clutched the screaming mouse. At the same time another scream could be heard, a louder scream.

Landing back where he had started the Owl grips his prize and feels its fear. The Owl loves this feeling; this is the feeling of prey that has been caught. Looking down, the Owl can see the girl running from the great hunter.

She does not know that it is already over, that the hunter is no longer hunting – it has caught her. Now it is enjoying the fear, the same fear that the Owl is enjoying from the mouse.

The fate of prey has never concerned the Owl, like the great hunter the Owl feels hunger and satisfies it with the mouse. There is a difference though, something the Owl doesn’t truly understand but can feel. Despite the fear it causes in the mouse, the Owl is… right. It is the way it was always intended, natural that he is the hunter and the mouse prey.

The great hunter though is not. It is wrong, it is wicked. The Owl, however, does not concern himself with right and wrong. As the girl falls, she looks up. She sees the snow-white owl covered in the pale moonlight, watching her with indifference. Then she feels the hot breath on her back and the warm drool that drips onto her.

Her screams echo through the night, but the Owl has stopped watching. His mouse had tried to escape, and now he focuses on filling his stomach with the captured prize.