Predators and Prey

Cole had opened the door and was enjoying the night breeze on his face when he heard his mother call after him.

“Cole, could ya check the ol’ barn while you’re out?”

He held the door open while craning his neck to get a good view of the kitchen. His mother, a woman whose forehead barely reached his father’s chest yet had the calloused skin and toned arms from working in the fields, was folding up something for the next day, tying a bow over whatever meal she had prepared.

“Sure, Ma.” Cole said, taking a step over the threshold of the house and onto the dirt of the trail. “Is there anything I should be lookin’ for?”

“Your father said he heard a barn owl or some such last night.” Ma replied, wiping her hands on a towel. “Might be hidin’ away in there.”

“Hmm,” Cole nodded, stepping out of the house entirely and closing the door behind him. He took a deep breath, felt the wind hit his face, and zipped up his jacket as he walked around the house. It was a modest two-story, and enough light was coming through the windows that Cole could see where he was going. He strolled up the dirt path to the road, glancing left first, then right, before crossing the street to the other side.

Cole paced back and forth before the trees of the forest, whistling. He swiped his blonde hair from his forehead and stared up at the moon, admiring the pale light.

Not a bad night for a walk. Could be warmer, but it ain’t too bad yet.

Cole made sure that he wasn’t far from the house with each step through the grass. He thought about his cousin Jack being sick for the last three days, how Jessie at school had invited everyone over for a party on Friday (Cole had to pass, knowing his father would need him for the day), and how stressed his father had seemed since he signed a deal with some big company. Something about how they needed to buy the latest farming equipment. Cole had been eavesdropping on the meeting a week ago while trying to do his homework, and the walls were thick enough that he couldn’t make out what they were saying exactly. His only glimpse of the representative was when he left, and Cole peered through his window to get a good look at him. The impressive, dark blue suit probably cost more than Cole’s entire wardrobe, and the bespectacled eyes were an icy blue, so focused that Cole felt uncomfortable observing him even from a distance.

“Might need to lay off some farm hands.” His father noted yesterday, pouring over taxes and bank records.

“We can’t use the old equipment anymore?” Ma inquired, placing a hand on his broad shoulder.

“Not at the rate they want the goods.” Pa said, leaning back in his chair. He sighed, exhaling great load of air, something Cole hadn’t heard except when they had rounded up some goats that escaped their pen in the middle of the night.

The thought of the old equipment reminded Cole of his mother’s request. Oh yeah, the shed. He swiftly crossed the road, no car in sight. He circled the house and turned to the right, seeing the familiar dark barn, painted walls peeling and dust covering the windows. They had a new barn to store the equipment, particularly the tractor, and the old barn stood behind it in a state of disrepair. Pa had planned to have it disassembled eventually, but managing a farm and keeping up with the latest demands forced him to put it off until Ma put her foot down and demanded that they do it next week.

The door creaked when Cole opened it. He coughed at the dust that seemed to come straight for his face, waving a hand rapidly to clear the air.

Hell, we need to dust this place up. Cole jerked the door back and forth like an oversized duster, praying more dust was leaving the shed than he could see. Wouldn’ be surprised to find some termites or somethin’.

Cole had never seen termites, and didn’t know how they appeared—he was going off some ridiculous story that his friend Kent had told him five years ago about an old farm that was consumed by termites and was never seen again. Cole came home that day with a racing heart and frantically cleaning every corner of the house before his exasperated mother told him that termites were more a problem outside in the fields than inside the house. It had placated the eleven-year-old Cole, but the thought of wood-destroying termites devouring their home was an idea that lodged itself into the back of his brain, and popped up at inconvenient times.

Satisfied with his effort after a minute or two, Cole pushed the door open and stepped inside the barn. It was barren, covered in a thin sheen of dust that seemed to surround Cole with each step he took inside. He pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight built inside, shining it on the empty space in front of him.

Now, if I was an owl, where would I…

The thought trailed when Cole realized that the owl, if there was one, would likely not be on the ground. He tilted the phone, the light creeping up to the hayloft that used to store bales of hay and bags of grain. He held his breath as he guided the light to the left side of the hayloft, than the right side. His foot tapped against the floor, and dust scattered around his feet as he did so.

I can’t see if there’s somethin’ in the back.

He lowered his phone and took a deep breath through his nose. The ladder to get up to the hayloft resided in the new barn, and Cole didn’t want to drag the ladder here to see a barn owl. The inner conflict of wanting to deal with this minor task to ease his parents worries against shrugging his shoulders and telling them that he couldn’t see any barn owl from his basic search rooted him to the spot.

After a minute of debate, he raised the light towards the hayloft one more time, directly in the middle—and his heart leaped into his throat. From the corner of his eye, barely noticeable in the weak light, he could see something sitting at the left, just beyond the light’s reach.

Oh for the love of…

He slowly turned the phone just enough that he could get a closer look at the intruder, and sure enough, it was there. Long wings folded to its sides, impressive brown coat, and a pale-white face with dark eyes that seemed to hold Cole and take him in. The gaze was so intense that he nearly looked away.

Well, there it is. Cole backed away slowly, as though in a minefield. Should go tell Ma and Pa the good news.

The owl stared at him the entire time, and though Cole had turned off his flashlight, he could make out the silhouette of the creature. He wondered if it blinked—do owl’s blink? If they did, he didn’t want to get close enough to find out. He stepped out of the old barn and turned to the right, still facing the door as he put a decent distance between himself and the entrance to the owl’s new home. Cole breathed a sigh of relief—he was free, and if he left the door open, the owl might leave.

He watched the door for five minutes, only pulling away when his phone buzzed with a message from his mother asking his whereabouts. He quickly responded that he would be home soon, and returned to the door.

Now that I think about it… how did the owl get in there?

The thought struck Cole—he had been afraid of the owl, and hadn’t considered how it got into the barn.

Maybe someone left the door open, or one of the windows was open, or—oh yeah, the back wasn’t fixed.

Cole turned around and circled the old barn to confirm his suspicions—a window, one that was on the second floor of the barn, was broken, a discovery his mother made two weeks ago. It had slipped his mind, and even when he glanced at the broken glass, his attention was drawn once again to a small figure flying through the darkness, so swift and silent that he had almost missed it.

It was the barn owl, no doubt about it; the way it flew close to the ground and away from the old barn gave a decent guess as to where it had flown from. The matter settled, Cole returned home. He found his father sitting at the table with a book, his mother nowhere to be seen.

“You alright?” Pa asked, looking up from his reading.

“I think so.” Cole said. “You were right about the barn owl. I think it got in from the window out back.”

Pa nodded. “Forgot about that. Thanks for checkin’.”

“Sure.” Cole sat down in front of Pa, placing his chin on his hand. He thought about the owl’s eyes, the piercing, possessive gaze, and then he wondered how many other creatures scurried around the forest, the last thing they see being the black eyes of the barn owl as it captured them.

“Pa, how do barn owls hunt?” Cole asked suddenly.

Pa placed his book down and looked at his son in surprise. “Can’t say for sure. Think it stays close to the ground though. I know they eat rodents and the like, at least.”

“They’re quiet though, right?” Cole said. “I-I saw the owl fly out, and I couldn’t hear nothin’.”

“I suppose. You don’t want your pray to know you’re comin’ do ya?” Pa chuckled to himself, before a more somber look came on his face. “How it goes in the world, really.”

“What-what does that mean?” Cole blinked, caught off-guard by the change in topic.

“You know—sometimes there are things we can’t see comin’ until they’re right there on top of us, and we won’t know what to do until they’re there.” Pa looked through the window that showed the old barn—it looked haunted in the darkness. “All comes down to what we can do once we’re there.”

“You mean like farmin’?” Cole asked, looking at the old barn himself again.

“Yup.” Pa nodded. “I won’ lie, it’s tough. All these other farms we gotta compete with, keepin’ up with the latest equipment, tryin’ to keep the company off out back—it’s a lot, and some can’t go on with all this.”

Cole turned his head back to his father. The light in the kitchen reflected off his glasses, making his hair look lighter and strangely older.

“A barn owl is a predator—but it’s only followin’ its nature.” Pa observed. “Just like its prey is only followin’ their nature. It ain’t fair to be sure, but some mice out there can survive if they’re fast and smart enough. Hell, maybe they’ll outlive the owl that’s huntin’ them, huh?”

“I don’ think we can outlive the company, Pa.” Cole said, turning to the fridge that looked like it could break down on a bad day.

“You never know.” Pa shrugged, returning to his book. “Life can be funny, sometimes. Not all prey is doomed, ya know.”

Father and son sat there in silence for a long while. Cole thought about that barn owl, and if it would be there tomorrow. Maybe he would check again after school.