The Hopeless Wanderer

The stillness of the night brought peace to the mind of the hopeless wanderer. The crisp winter air caused the blood to rise to her cheeks as she roamed aimlessly along the path. The opening to the forest was only a few meters away, and the harmonizing sound of Taylor Swift and Bon Iver ricocheted through the head of the exhausted insomniac. Footprints followed behind her in the freshly fallen, unwalked upon snow as she continued down the path. Allowing her thoughts the space to breathe and thrive in nature's presence.

This was something she enjoyed doing when sleep was not able to take over. It was just after 4:00am when she marched into the silence of the morning. Something about the moon's light hit differently in the early morning sky. Perhaps it was because there was no clutter to distract from its beauty. No city lights, no buzz from the cars, no stress from random humans passing by. The sky was filled with stars, now that the clouds from the snow storm were gone.

This was routine now, to thrive in the wilderness, amongst the other mammals who chose to be nocturnal. Sometimes she thought she could relate more to the animals than she could to other humans. Perhaps that was the reason she fell in love with wandering by herself. The sight of wings fluttering in the corner of her vision caught her attention. She could hear the sound as the beautiful creature landed on the branch of the tree, snapping off little twigs along the way. Twisting its neck past what was humanly possible, it's dark eyes locked with hers and she stood still, frozen in place.

She knew it was not uncommon to see one of its kind out in the forest at night. It was a nocturnal bird after all, and during the cold of the winter, it required more energy to survive, so it hunted more often. It let out a rasping call, and if she was unsure before, she was now positive it was a barn owl calling to her. They did not “whoo” like barred owls we hear about in the movies. Their harsh screeches filled the night with sorrow and while most would have been paralyzed in fear, she was still with curiosity. She had heard they were known for aggressively imprinting, but nothing about him scared her or made her feel unsafe.

He was a symbol of peace, and she could not tell what it was about this owl, but she could relate to the way he rested alone with a pain painted across his heart shaped face. She could not tell what he was trying to communicate with her, for his screeches stopped. He attempted to communicate with his deep, dark eyes instead. He untwisted his neck releasing her gaze and began to shift ever so slightly on the branch as if inviting her to follow. She began to approach the tree and he took off, leaving one last lingering glance to ensure she followed. He weaved through the trees which lined the path she walked across. He was in pursuit and she did not know why or how but she could tell he needed her to follow.

They approached a fallen tree on the path and he settled down on the rotting wood. He glanced down, then back at her, then down again. She stepped cautiously, worried he would be frightened of her nearness, but he didn’t move. She followed his gaze down to a hole in the trunk, where three little baby owls lay next to what she could only imagine were the remains of their mother. The soft cries echoed through the fallen tree, and he peered at her once again. The pain she saw was raw, and she finally understood. Barn owls mate for life, and he lost his mate. The offspring needed to be cared for and he could not provide them with the nurturing they needed. His eyes begged for her to help him and while she did not know what to do for him, she would not leave them there to pass with their mother.