Little Owl

“What’s in this box, Aunt E?”

“Nothing little bird, just something very old.”

“Is it as old as you?”

“It is much, much older than that, all the way back to your great grandma. If you promise to be careful, I will let you take it out and look at it.”

With a rustle, her little hands slowly emerged from the box holding a delicate porcelain owl. With big eyes of wonderment and her little voice in a whisper, she admired the little owl.

“She is the prettiest thing I have ever seen in my whole entire life.”

“I used to think so too.”

“But you don’t anymore?”

“Well, when you look closely you can see all the ways Little Owl has been damaged over the years. Nicks, scratches, even cracks.”

“Is that why you keep Little Owl put away in the box now and don’t let her sit on a shelf?”

“Well, she is a bit beat up now, so I think it’s best to keep her put away.”

“Was Little Owl perfect when your mama gave her to you?”

“No, but she was still so beautiful back then.”

“Did you keep her in a box back then too?”

“No, I kept Little Owl on the shelf for a long time to show her off to everyone. Over time though, she collected more nicks and scrapes. I became scared that one day she would shatter completely and be gone forever, so I finally put her away safe in a box.”

“You were scared to lose her, so you hid her away so no one would see her at all?”

“Well, I feel better knowing she is still safe. And once in a blue moon, in the quietest of nights, I pull her out to look at her for a moment and then I carefully put her back when I am done.”

“Does it make you happy or sad to look at her?”

“A little bit of both. All these little nicks and cracks and scratches, I like to think that they are all stories of Little Owl’s life. And like any life, there are happy parts and sad parts all mixed together.”

“Can you tell me her stories?”

“Sure, my little bird. Let’s start with this nick on her tail feathers, this was her very first.”

“Tail feathers were a pride of the family, passed down through the family line of the father of Little Owl. The way their tails glistened in the moonlight and the power with which they fanned out was one of the most majestic sights in all the land. It was mesmerizing how they angled through the air to silently capture their prey. Little Owl’s father would bring home more prey than any other owl in their kingdom and became more renown than any ancestor before him. She was proud of her father and proud to have these magnificent tail feathers as part of herself. However, Little Owl did not like to be a hunter, and she had little need to do so since her father provided all they could ever want. So, Little Owl used her tail feathers to explore the skies above the forests, dancing through the air under the moonlight. Everyone in the kingdom would gather in the trees to watch her. Her beautiful, feathered dance was admired by all. There were even whispers that the prince himself would watch her dance.

For all the joy the sky brought to Little Owl, a shadow soon came over her family. Little Owl became increasingly worried about her father. His powerful tail was not just admired by the kingdom, but it was also becoming feared. Despite his charm, an unsettled rage grew beneath him and the rage began to cast a shadow. Then one day she saw her father plucking the tail feathers from Mother to take them as his own and that is when Little Owl realized where his power truly came from. In a rage she darted at him with her talons, but realizing her power was still not enough to take him, she dashed away; but not fast enough to avoid his talons digging into her backside breaking into the side of her tail feathers. As she plumeted to the ground in grief and shock and shame, she heard Mother call to her. And although Mother’s voice called Little Owl back in time to avoid the ground, Little Owl would always have uneven tail feathers to remind her of that fateful blow. That very same night, Little Owl and her mother stole away silently to never see home again.”

“So, they ran away from her dad because they were scared of him?”

“No, they left when they became brave.”

“Wasn’t Little Owl sad to leave her home?”

“Yes, but Little Owl thought that if anyone looked too closely at them, all that would be seen was the injury and shame. So, they traveled from town to town, living quietly and trying not to attract any attention. Mother had too little tail feathers left to be able to care for their needs. This forced Little Owl to work hard. Little Owl’s work kept her busy, but she found she had to hide both the magnificence of her tail and the shame of the broken edge. Even at home Little Owl hid her tail feathers. Mother, who once praised her daughter’s glorious feathers, was too consumed by her own shame and pain to bear the sight of them. So, Little Owl’s dancing with the moonlight faded away and was replaced by solitary midnight hunts. Some still swear they saw a beautiful huntress in the moonlight, but such a flash of beauty their minds could not contain, it was only spoken of in whispers by the owlets. When the whispers became too loud, they would move on to the next town.”

“Didn’t Little Owl get lonely?”

“She learned how to be alone. And in all that quiet she became an excellent listener.

“Little Owl had the keenest hearing in all the land. She kept this a secret because of the power it gave her. She could always hear the truths and lies, even when whispered. Little Owl vowed to keep her and Mother safe, never letting anyone take advantage of them again. So, when it was time, they would move on to the next town. This was never an easy thing for an owl, as having a good home was important to help keep an owl safe. Now the only thing that could truly keep them safe was Little Owl.

“Something kept catching Little Owl’s ear as she moved from town to town. It was laughter, something she heard little of. She would fly closer at times and hear a distinct voice. It intrigued her that in all her travels this voice seemed to follow. The stories often had Little Owl laughing, forgetting her silent hunt. She began to look for that voice each night in anticipation. One night the voice was especially close, and she dived closer to see to whom it belonged. With a gasp Little Owl saw that he too had broken feathers, but on his wing. And in that dive toward the ground, she nipped her ear on a nearby branch. Just a little nip on the edge of her ear, but it made her go down with a crash into the bushes.”

“Was she ok?”

“Little Owl sat laughing in the bushes until an outstretched wing helped her up, and there he stood laughing with her. She spent the night talking longer than she had in a long time. He told her stories of losing his family, his adventures, and his search for a home. He told her how he injured his wing feathers in a great storm. He even told her about the stories he followed from town to town of this extraordinary, rare beauty that could be seen flying with great power in the moonlight. She finally told her story but without shame. And for the first time in a very long time Little Owl flew for someone else to see rather than just privately.”

“Did they live happily ever after?”

“There is no such thing. But they did love each other very much. The three of them would travel from town to town, but all the eyes and ears were on him with his loud laughter and grand stories. Little Owl began to feel safe knowing that no one would notice her or Mother. Little Owl let her ears be filled with his stories and laughter and it would make her smile. Yet, the injury of his wing feathers always pained her heart. So, while everyone slept, Little Owl would secretly pluck out her feathers and tuck it into his wing. Over time the glory of his wings started to match the glory of his stories. But when she would look at her own reflection, her smile would fade as she could scarcely recognize herself anymore. Little Owl could even see the shame grow in Mother’s eyes as she saw her daughter shrink away. Little Owl was not done, however. One more night, and he would be complete.

But he never came to sleep, and she heard stories that he used his gift of great flight to explore far away towns and see new things. Eyes and whispers began to follow her and Mother again, and she shrank back in shame. But Little Owl did not move them on to another town. She stayed.”

“Why did she stay?”

“Little Owl hoped he would return to her. He had loved her so. And she him. She thought surely it would be enough for him to return.”

“Did he come back?”

“Many weeks later he returned wet and injured, having lost much of not just his own feathers, but hers as well. He told her how wonderful she was and how sorry he was. They talked about the future again and the beautiful life they could create. Then he asked if he could have just a few more of her feathers so he wouldn’t have to show his shame to others. And the pain of Little Owl’s heart split her chest open wide as she realized that her feathers she thought she had been freely giving in secret, he had actually been taking and squandering away.

“That night Little Owl took Mother and went farther away than ever been. Neither had many feathers, so travel was difficult. The weather was wet and stormy, which is dangerous for owls, but they flew until they could fly no more. This was the last journey Mother would make. Little Owl kept her hunting journeys brief to hurry back and cover over Mother with her warm down underside, as Mother had done for her so long ago. Little Owl gave Mother the best portions of the meal and fought off their predators. With all the love Little Owl had for Mother, an equal anger grew inside Little Owl as she watched Mother fade. Little Owl unleashed that anger on her enemies while her own body also paid the price with chips on her beak and talons. Despite the fire raging in her, Little Owl never went far, nor was gone long. But Mother’s body grew colder and colder no matter what Little Owl tried. As Mother drew her last breaths she whispered in Little Owl’s ear, ‘Take them all and dance.’ And so, Mother slowly took each of her remaining feathers and tucked them into her Little Owl, a little broken but finally complete. And the last thing that Mother saw with her eyes was a dance so beautiful that even the moon stood still in awe.”

“Did she dance again after that night?”

“Not yet, but some day she might.”

“Maybe you need to leave her out of the box so that she can.”

“Maybe so my little bird.”