Barn Owl

One snowy night, I relaxed near the fireplace coloring a page peacefully. As the evening grew into night, I expectantly began to hear sounds from the barn nearby. As I had been noisily about my business by day, the barn owl began its nightly rituals. We have occasionally met each other’s acquaintance when I was either up very early or late. I have infrequently seen my friend peer into my window from a nearby tree. I might find myself wandering outside some evenings to release an intruding field mouse into the yard to serve as prey for my barn visitor. Understandably, I did not think much of it when the sounds I heard that evening became unfamiliar. I simply retired for a peaceful night’s sleep.

Certainly, I was curious the next day about why the sounds seemed somewhat different. I was curious as to whether or not my friend left for me any evidence as to what may have caused the strange noises of late. I went out to check the barn to see if any strange happening had occurred to my unofficial pet. Much to my alarm, I found near my secluded dwelling human footprints in the newly fallen snow. The footprints came near to my home but veered away toward the barn. I could only imagine that someone peered into my window and decided instead to take refuge in the barn. Was there an attack to be planned or some sort of surveillance? Perhaps someone just needed shelter and did not want to disturb me. I imagine that if some ill will were to befall me, it would have taken place already.

Anxious and indignant, I returned to the house to arm myself with a cellphone and a pistol. Would I meet someone in need or someone desiring to upset my tranquil routine? I would be well-equipped for either fate.

I gingerly tracked along the path of the footprints leading up the barn. My heart, pounding with anticipation, seemed so loud to me that it was certain to expose my position though my desire was to approach the barn undetected. I listened for any sound that might betray the events of the previous evening. Only an eerie silence prevailed from inside the barn while all of nature's normalcy sounded without. I pleaded with all that was within me and without not to crack a snow-covered twig or crunch too loudly the snow beneath my feet. I cocked the pistol in my hand ready to fire at will as I slowly opened the barn door. I suddenly remembered my mother’s concern about her little girl living alone so far into seclusion. I then recalled my strength and resolve to live as I pleased with its risks rather than live moderately with different risks no less dangerous. With renewed resolve and one deep breath, I prepared for the unknown. In one foolhardy move, I sprang in front of the open barn door aiming my pistol at what I could not anticipate. My owl friend was already perched on a high platform in a position of high alert while oddly looking perturbed as if to be irritated by being awakened. I immediately put my pistol away. That action along with my familiarity put the owl at ease. It escaped away into the nearby woods. The owl's absence alleviated my distress in wondering if my attention to the unexpected intruder would cause the barn owl to turn on me also.

I cannot imagine what a struggle might have occurred throughout the night. I only knew that the badly wounded, unconscious man on my barn floor would much more benefit from my using the cellphone rather than the pistol.