The Life of Gus the Barn Owl

The Life and Times of Gus the Barn Owl

By John Sherrer

January 25, 2022

Gus soared through the dark night on silent, outstretched amber wings, his white heart-shaped face scanning the leafy forest floor for anything edible. He is a barn owl who lived in an abandoned house deep in the Cherokee National Forest in East Tennessee. Night had fallen and he took to the air in an ancient quest for food. He soundlessly swooped on an oak branch to nibble an itch in his golden feathers dappled with black specks.

He stopped grooming when he heard the soft crackling sounds of four mammalian feet walking in the dried leaves on the forest floor. As if on ball bearings, his head swiveled in the direction of the sound and saw a wretch of a coyote, mangy and thin. Gus watched with indifference, knowing that he was well out of reach of the predatory coyote. The coyote moved with purpose, his ears swiveling in the darkness, alert for both danger and for opportunities for catching prey of any kind. He is not above taking sun ripened road kill, which makes his species one of the most successful wild mammals on earth. The coyote paused to sniff at the trunk of a distant tree and lifted a hind leg before trotting off on his unknown adventure —probably to check out the hen house about half a mile from where Gus perched. Although Gus smugly watched the coyote from his perch, he knew that the varmint would kill him given a chance, and was grateful for the saving power of his wings.

Gus bent down to preen his chest feathers when a familiar sound struck sheer terror in his heart. It was Hook, a Great Horned Owl. Great Horned Owls are one of the main archenemies of the smaller barn owls, and Gus would do well to stay clear of them. Hook was named after his deadly hook of a beak that mercilessly ripped apart his foes with the help of his powerful feather-covered talons that were almost as big as a man’s hands. Hook’s yellow eyes were blazing with fury as he sailed toward Gus on huge wings. “Gus, I’ve warned you not to come back here!” Hook hooted angrily. ‘I’ll finish you!”

Gus took off in the air as fast as his wings can carry him, dodging branches and trees in the forest in pure, unbridled terror. The chase continued for almost a quarter of a mile through the sleeping forest, with Hook steadily gaining on Gus. He pivoted around a large mountain laurel bush, hoping to throw Hook off. It worked. Hook landed on a tree branch, winded from the chase and watched Gus disappear into the forest. He was angry that he wasn’t able to kill Gus, but satisfied that his point was made clear: stay out of Hook’s patch of the woods or else.

Gus was shaken by the chase and decided to call it a night and went home. He flew gratefully through the rotted doorway of his abandoned house and perched on his favorite rafter up in the ceiling which sheltered him from many a storm. His heart was still hammering in his chest, and he remembered his brother Sam, who went against Gus’ warning not to taunt Hook. Sam did it in the most stupid, obnoxious ways possible. His youth arrogance cost him dearly, having underestimated Hook’s speed and power. Gus closed his eyes and shivered at the sound of Sam’s screams that still ripped in through his mind as Hook tore into him.

He remembered how terrifying Hook looked — the feather tuffs on the opposite sides of his head gave him an almost demonic look, his cold yellow eyes indifferent to the unfortunate Sam’s cries as he ripped him apart with his deadly hooked beak. Most of Sam’s feathers were soon in a scattered pile of death. Gus never heard his brother’s voice again. It was an experience Gus would never quite get over. He would watch where he hunts in the dark from now on, meaning to steer clear of Hook’s boundaries. Gus shivered again and stayed on his perch for the rest of the night and following day. He was too traumatized to catch the plump rat nosing around on the floor just a few yards away.

The next night, Gus felt better. He stretched his wings and lit out into the night. The night was clear and cool, the black sky covered with innumerable pin lights of stars. A breeze sighed tiredly, the trees an eerie silhouette in the starlit night sky as Gus soundlessly sailed through the air. He caught a flying squirrel in mid flight and quickly ate it from a branch; he was hungry. When he finished, he tilted his head from side to side as he listened to a field mouse carelessly scampering through the fallen forest leaves. Gus swooped down on silent wings, caught and devoured the mouse. His hunting prowess was at full peak, and the hunting was good. Still, he warily checked around to be sure he was well out of Hook’s domain.

“Gus? Is that you?” An obviously female barn owl purred. Gus was instantly filled with a powerful, primal urging — like a teenaged boy in the presence of a pretty girl. Gus turned his head to the purr and saw it was Liza, a beautiful barn owl of his acquaintance from last year. He became silly, flying around in comical circles, saying “Hey, good to see you!” Liza joined him in the nocturnal flying dances. “Come on over to my place!” Gus said.

Liza liked his house and immediately moved in. Soon, Gus stood by as Liza laid three white eggs in the rafter corner over a period of a few days. “Hold tight, Liza”, Gus said. “I’ll fetch you a mouse or a squirrel.”

“Thank you, Gus!” She carefully rolled her precious eggs under her chest with her beak and warmed them under her breast. She sighed contentedly. She thought about Gus’ late brother’s tragic death; a rabbit friend had told her about it. News spread fast in the woods. Liza decided not to bring it up in a future conversation unless Gus brought it up. Sam was dead, and that was that. There was no point in rehashing sadness and grief.

Gus was an owl of his word: he brought Liza several freshly killed mice and one rat. Liza ate well and happily.

Soon, three chicks hatched and grew rapidly under their parents’ dedicated care during the early summer months. They grew fat, fluffy and white, fussing with each other for the best pieces of rodent offered by their doting parents. All was well in this family. Everyone was happy. Life was good. However, late one night during a summer thunderstorm, the chicks were sleeping under their mother’s wings when they were not alone. Unbeknownst to Gus and Liza, a dangerous guest joined this happy household: an assassin.

This assassin was dreaded by many in the animal kingdom especially among rabbits, rodents, baby birds and occasionally domestic baby chickens. The cold blooded guest deftly crept up toward the owl’s nest from a broken window with hardly a sound, its lidless, emotionless eyes fixed on the owl chicks with sinister intent, its forked tongue flicking in the air. It was a seven-foot Black Rat Snake, still wet from the thunderstorm and very hungry. The owl chicks would be a welcome change from rats and mice.

Liza spied the snake as it raised its head about three feet away. “SCRAM!” Liza shrieked angrily. Gus jumped between Liza and the dreadful reptile and slammed it with his wings as a warning to back off. The white flashing of lightning opened up the room in bright relief, making the snake frighteningly close for an instant. “GIT! NOW! GET AWAY FROM HERE!” Gus yelled. But Gus was unaware of the fact that snakes are totally deaf and thus, the snake was undeterred by Gus’s verbal threats. As such, snakes do not speak; Gus, Liza, rabbits and other kinds of owls speak mostly English, but snake kill, eat, mate, and live their lives in total silence unless threatened by predators of their own, at which they hiss or rattle. Their deathly, non speaking silence is what creatures find the most unnerving.

The snake stopped, its long body in loops over the rafter, sizing up Gus. The snake defiantly crept closer to the chicks, its tongue flicking with excitement and anticipation. Gus, in his fury, seized the snake in his talons and both fell on the floor rolling and wings flapping. The snake was experienced and strong; he looped his coils at lightning speed around Gus’ neck and body, meaning to kill him. He bore down on tightening the coils, prompting Gus to cry for Liza’s help. He knew to grab the snake by its head, to kill it by cracking his skull in his beak, but in his fury and panic, he grabbed him in the middle of his body, giving the advantage to the reptile. The snake sneered in Gus’ face as he wheezed for Liza’s help, the coils tightening down without pity, slowly cutting off his oxygen.

Liza was instantly on the snake, seizing him by the neck and ripped his head off with her beak on her second try. The snake relaxed his coils around Gus and died. Gus laid on the floor in the loose coils of the snake, catching his breath, his feathers ruffled from the battle. Liza gently pulled the snake off her mate, and looked at him and sighed. All was well. They butchered the snake and fed the pieces to their chicks.

The owl chicks grew into handsome tawny adults and learned to avoid the territories of Great Horned Owls. They were the pride and joy of both Gus and Liza. They took to the skies and glided silently through the night and eventually found homes of their own, two of which found barns that sheltered cattle and sheep and housed an abundant of tasty rats that lived in barn hay lofts. The farmer was delighted to have the owls move into the barn and even installed a barn owl house for them to build a nest in comfort and safety. The third sibling found a hollow tree with a hole just the right size to claim a home in.

The nocturnal lives of Gus’ family continue on through new generations of barn owls helping keep Nature in balance between predator and prey, bringing a purpose to all life in its own individual niches. The night compels barn owls to soar through the starlit skies. Seasons come and go, moving from fall to winter, spring to summer, the barn owls continue to take to the night air, open to more adventures life brings to them.