Why Can't They Hear the Screech?

Juneau, Alaska – 1995

Aiden was pacing back and forth with his hands over his ears. He was trying as hard as he could to block it out – the sound that had haunted him for over a decade...the screech of the barn owl. His pace mimicked the waves beside him; they moved upon the shore and then recoiled. Though the darkness hid it, his face was red and his eyes were wet with tears. The horrific screech grew louder causing Aiden to drop to his knees. He pounded on the gritty sand beneath him and let out a scream. A scream that he thought only the waves could hear...

Portland, Oregon – 1982

My father and I were hidden in the tall grass waiting for the buck to return. We’d been tracking it for hours. My father had the opportunity to take a shot, but I scared the animal away. I didn’t mean to...but I had to shift my body around. So here we were, waiting in the grass.

Whilst kneeling in that tall grass, my mind recalled the smell of the food my father cooked us the night before. I could smell the campfire and the food my father prepared. Kneeling in the dirt and grass for what felt like an eternity was unbearable and I did all I could to hold onto that memory of the night before – my father and I laughing, eating, and staring up at the night sky. The memory however, was interrupted when my father gripped my shoulder and got close to my ear.

“Don’t make a sound”, my father whispered, “better not make us lose it again”.

I remember how much his words hurt. They were so angry and...condemning. How would I know that breaking a few twigs underneath me was going to alert the buck? How was a 12 year old kid supposed to keep still for that long?

I nodded silently and stared ahead at the large creature who had finally returned to us. I could hear my father raising his rifle and loading the bullet into the chamber. It was a Remington Model 700 rifle with .308 caliber bullets – he wouldn’t stop talking about the brand new rifle. Sound itself seemed to dissipate while I watched the buck. It was just eating and minding its own business.

My ears began to ring and when I saw the cloudy mist of blood emit from the buck, I knew what had just occurred. The large animal dropped to the ground. Ever so faintly, I could hear my father cheering and calling out to me, but I couldn’t move. My eyes were fixated on the carcass.

My father called out to me. “Wasn’t that a great shot?!”

I was silent and frozen – unable to move. My eyes panned across the buck’s lifeless body. My father’s figure moved into my view as he walked to his kill. I watched him as he knelt down and took off his backpack. He unzipped the main pocket and pulled out his Polaroid camera. I can still remember the odd feeling that coursed through me when I witnessed my father stand up and aim his camera at the buck. Just like he did with the trigger of his rifle, he squeezed the button on the camera and shot the buck.

A part of me snapped as the camera emitted its photo developing noise. My knees ached from kneeling for so long, but I ignored the pain and rose up. Without thinking, I walked quickly to my father with my fists clenched.

Juneau, Alaska – 1995

The barn owl’s screech grew quiet. Aiden took off his shoes and jacket and tossed them aside. He watched as the waves began to steady themselves. They shimmered in the moonlight. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. Unfolding the knife was difficult in the cold, especially considering how rusted the joint was. The blade shimmered in front of him. Aiden heard a voice call out to him.

“Hello?...Are you okay friend?” the voice said.

Portland, Oregon – 1982

“Why’d you take a picture of it?” I asked my father.

My father was taken aback and turned his head towards me, “I needed to mark the occasion son.”

“It feels wrong. Y-you just killed it!”

“You watch your tone,” he said with a quiet anger.

I stood there shaking and struggling to hold back tears. He shoved the camera into my chest and he walked behind the buck, lifting it aggressively to position it – desiring to make it “camera-ready”.

“Take the picture,” my father demanded.

Without hesitation I let out a – “yes sir.”

The camera let out its noise and I watched as my father stood up and pulled his knife out of his pocket, unfolded it, and knelt down beside his kill.

“Now you watch me, so you can do it next time,” my father commanded.

My eyes widened as he plunged his serrated blade into the buck’s underbelly and slid it across its skin with relative ease. Sometimes, I wonder if I was really there at that moment, or if I was on another plane of existence. I watched as he skinned the formerly majestic creature that laid before us. I can remember how “perfect” the bullet hole looked; clean and circular. However, I can’t remember how I felt in that moment. It was as if my soul left my body and hid itself as my eyes were forced to watch the horror in front of them.

Juneau, Alaska – 1995

Aiden looked at the man in front of him. He wore a heavy coat with a hooded sweatshirt underneath that obscured his face.

“I’m fine,” Aiden uttered.

“Are you sure about that?” The man walked towards Aiden. “What are you doing out here?”

The screech was returning. As it grew louder, Aiden’s head began to hurt and he tried to muffle the sound with his hands.

“What’s wrong friend?” then man asked Aiden.

“What do you mean what’s wrong?! Can’t you hear it?! Why am I the only one that hears it?” Aiden dropped to the ground and cried out. “Damned barn owl won’t stop screeching!”

The man rushed to Aiden’s side. “Barn owl? There aren’t any barn owls in these parts my friend.”

The man held Aiden’s shaking body close. The man took off his coat and placed it over Aiden.

Aiden opened his eyes and looked at the man’s face. “Who are you?”

“My name is Pana.” He pulled Aiden up from the cold sand. “Come, you need to get warm.”

Pana guided Aiden up the ridge and into the darkness.

Portland, Oregon – 1982

After skinning the buck, my father set up a makeshift camp for the night. He took its meat and portioned it out as I watched. He then showed me how to remove the flesh from the pelt with a long knife. Hours later, my father and I were sitting around the new campfire. My father was eating the venison and drinking beer as I watched the flames.

“You didn’t eat your venison,” my father commented.

I turned my head to look at him. “I don’t want any.”

My father stood up and moved towards me. “You’ve been talking back a lot today boy!” With a swift movement, he smacked me across the face. “Now eat your goddamn food!”

Tears streamed down my face, but I wouldn’t dare cry out. I took the meat from my plate and put it into my mouth. I remained silent. I ate as I focused my attention on the flames. After I finished eating, I just sat there... I watched my father as he got up and set up the hammock that he had been carrying in his backpack. He laid down on it and fell asleep almost instantly.

I could taste blood in my mouth...my tooth was loose now. I hated him. Without thinking, I stood up and walked to my father’s gun bag. I unzipped it and pulled out the rifle. I loaded the bullet into the chamber and walked over to my father. I aimed it at him...just like he taught me.

Just as I was about to squeeze the trigger, a terrifyingly loud screech echoed through the trees. My father’s eyes opened wide and I squeezed the trigger.

Juneau, Alaska – 1995

“What happened after that?”, Pana asked.

Aiden looked up at Pana who was sitting across the small fire.

“I squeezed the trigger and my father got up out of the hammock, pulled the rifle away, and pushed me to the ground...and started kicking me.” Aiden grimaced.

“Oh my god…” Pana shook his head.

“There were things about my father that no 12 year old could possibly understand. He had been abused as a child and served in the military. He just reacted. Heard a gunshot, saw a gun, and took down the attacker.”

“That and the fact that he seemed to be an angry drunk wasn’t the best combination.”

“Apparently, my mother had been talking about getting a divorce and asking for full custody. So, you could say that my father had quite a bit on his mind.”

Portland, Oregon – 1982

My father ordered me to stay on the ground as he started pacing back and forth with his rifle. My mother would tell me later about how ashamed he was over what happened. Maybe that was why he was pacing? Anyway, he started to pack up the makeshift camp as I was curled up on the ground. My body ached as the time passed.

My father hovered over me. “Aiden, get up. I need you to carry a few things.”

“Y-yes sir…” I said quivering.

After seeing me struggle, my father lifted me up and handed me my backpack. He gathered up as much as he could and he instructed me to follow him.

“We’re going back to the truck – we’re going home.”

We started walking to the car when I saw an animal carcass on the ground. It was a bird. I stopped beside it. My father noticed that I had stopped walking.

“What’s the matter?” my father asked quietly.

With my eyes wide I asked, “what happened to it?”

“You shot it. Better him than me.”

“I-I….didn’t mean to do that…” I stammered.

“It’s a barn owl – the animal that gave out that screech.”

I stared at the barn owl. It was mostly white with brown plumage. It was coated with fresh blood.

Juneau, Alaska – 1995

“We headed for the truck and went home after that.” Aiden continued, “My mother divorced my father, and I hadn’t seen him again for several years.”

“The barn owl…is that the screech that you still hear today? The screech of the one you killed?” asked Pana.

“Did you know they mate for life? And the males are responsible for getting food for the female and their babies? By killing him, I killed his family.”

“You have to forgive yourself Aiden…it was an accident. You’ve punished yourself long enough. I know why you came to the shore. You don’t have to do that...your life is precious.”

Aiden started getting choked up. It was as if Pana was absolving him of his sin. The sin that had haunted him for so long. That hunt changed Aiden’s life forever, to the extent that he closed himself off from others almost completely.

The pair saw the sun rising and they walked back down the ridge together to the shore. The sun rise was beautiful. Pana sat down on the sand and gestured for Aiden to join him.

“Hey Pana, what’s your name mean?” Aiden asked.

“Pana was an Inuit god who cared for the spirits in the underworld.” Pana gestured toward the water.

The pair watched the waves.

Pana turned to Aiden, “do you still hear the barn owl?”

“No...and I have you to thank for that…” Aiden glanced at Pana.

“Thank me for what?”

“Saving me from the underworld.”