Started Circa 1992/ Finished 1995
The sound grew stronger as if beckoned by the whine of the wind through the denuded trees. The potato chip crunch of boots upon dry leaves signaled to all that man was in the forest. Without goading nor lesson, every creature knew that when man approached they must similarly retreat. Nature had provided a means of survival for her brethren: the unfamiliar sound was a clarion call for all the animals to flee.
I could not.
The same wind that had brought the coming of man had also cast the nest that was my home upon the clearing ground, and being only recently introduced to this world, I was unable to escape. What quirk of nature or trick of fate that had hatched me so late in the year was irrelevant; My mother that had hatched me had since fled at the upset of our home. I felt no anger at my abandonment, no bitterness at my lot in life. In truth I don’t know if I knew enough about these things at that time. Instead, I closed my weakened eyes and reached out with my ears and without malice, I waited to die.
* * *
Death was not to be my fate. When the footfalls of the man stopped immediately next to me I cowered in my broken nest waiting for my life to be violently truncated by the single action of a boot heel. In those final seconds, I was beset with wild panic and longing, a desperate cry to live, to fly and to be. My complacent resignation fell away and I scurried to free myself from the confines of the twigs and leaves that seemed to pin me to the forest floor.
“I want to live!” rang in my heart. “I want to feel the wind in my face and the see the skies as they unfolded for me when I soared with the beat of steady wings.” My wings that flapped even now as my life was to be extinguished had no strength no stability and provided me with no avenue for freedom. The mere stubs of immature flesh and down only served to shift and rustle the broken nest calling attention to me rather than aiding in escape.
The heel that was to crush my skull never came. Instead his hands reached down and extricated me from the debris. The uncovered skin of this man reeked a foul odor and pulled unkindly upon my plummage. He held me up to his face to examine me and I while I knew that I wasn’t going to die by his boot, I nearly suffocated in the stench of his breath.
I was covered in a cloth; What I suspect was his hat for, though immersed in the darkness of the fabric, the overpowering reek that was man was never stronger. We rolled in the movement characteristic of a man’s walk and ended up in the warmth of a closed room. The fear of death had left me and instead I was curious at what fate had befallen me.
I believe that if I had not been rescued by this man, that I would have died in the forest. Winter was fast approaching and without mother to guide me I would surely have starved or frozen. This man, this human, had taken me to his bosom and nurtured and cared for me so that I survived the winter and grew. I suppose as owls go I was only of average size and wingspan, but having no other avia to compare with, I was terribly vain about looks, my strength, and health. I was no longer the weakened infant fallen from the boughs of the treetops, I was an horned owl, a bird of prey, wise as I was deadly. There was no cause for me to think otherwise, after all, I was hand fed daily kept warm and secure and had no other competitors. And yet I was not satisfied. The skies beckoned me and I longed to soar free among the clouds and reign in my own desmenes rather than be pampered in the confines of a cage.
Through the window, I saw that the snow had begun to clear and the sun shone warmer and more frequently pierced through the clouds that had plagued the days. I spread my wings repeatedly and closed them again frustrated by my confinement. I had my own perch now and though the man clipped my wings from time to time, I had free reign of his house, only, his house was not enough.
One day, I stretched my wings and beat them against the flow from the vent and felt a change, in a moment I was aloft and rather disconcerted with it. My wingtips had not been pruned for some time and I wondered whether it was my man’s forgetfulness that had resulted in this.
I settled back to my perch and preened a few ruffled feathers when the man brought his heavily gloved hand to my perch. I stepped to his hand as I normally did and waited for him to feed me. Rather than provide me with a tidbit or a strip of meat, he instead opened the door and stepped out into the open air. The blue sky was bigger her than from the room and it rose to dizzying heights above us. Steam blew from the breath of my man as the evenings were still chilly. His breath no longer stank, at least not to me, and hadn’t for some time. We walked a ways and he spoke to me as he always did not knowing that I could not understand him. With his other hand he pulled away the jesse that had always encircled my leg and then did something curious:
air.
the
into
me
threw
He
And I began to fly.
* * *
The sky opened up above me and, as I winged my way higher and higher, I did not find an end. The feeling of freedom coursed through me like nothing I had ever felt before. In this newfound splendor, I came to an awareness that this was my element and that this was whom I really was. I cannot describe to you the joy I felt, the excitement and the purity of the flight were beyond the measure of the words. In my amazement at my sudden freedom, I completely forgot the man who had set me free. I forgot the warm home, the ready meals and the caring that had been provided for me. I forgot everything except flying and looked only to the sky that was mine to own. I was stretching for the beakoning clouds and feeling the invincibility of the moment, when reality beckoned.
A shadow fleetingly blocked the setting sun and jolted me from my reverie. I turned to see what had joined me in those heavens, and in turning, only narrowly escaped the razor claws of a stooping hawk. He was two maybe three times bigger than me and definitely more adroit in the air. He dove maybe a hundred feet and then turned with an angle that I could never match. He was faster, stronger and far more experienced than myself, and in his presence, the only thing that eclipsed my awe was my fear. In that moment I hesitated and in that hesitation gave opportunity for the hawk to rise above me screaming his hunter’s cry.
He the predator and I the prey. The concept had only just sunk in when he attacked again. With extreme luck, I dodged his talons, only to collide heavily with his body. His mass drove me downward and I lost my purchase upon the wind. As I tumbled, he banked again and prepared for the kill. I couldn’t see this, of course, because I had other worries to consider. In my disoriented state, I could not seem to figure out how to stop my spin. I strove with all my might to level out while the ground rose with alarming speed. Just as I touched the top of the trees my flight feathers opened with a crack and I plunged into the forest with a semblence of control.
The hawk had followed me down and here, in the lee of the forest his size worked to his disadvantage. The gaps through which I hurtled through proved to be too small for the hawk to follow and the branches and boughs which I passed served only to foul upon his wings. In frustration, he beat upward screaming at my escape and leaving me to my safety.
My heart felt like it was in my throat and would not stop pounding. I flew low to the forest floor in the off chance that the hawk might return. I needed to rest and angled to land near an oak on the edge of a clearing. In my inexperience I misjudged my distance and tumbled into the early spring moss. If anyone say me I could not tell; But in the silence I thought I could hear the derisve laughter and felt the wound upon my pride.
* * *
The clearing into which I crashed was soft and green with the budding colors of spring. The forest teemed with life, and while I could not see the creatures that inhabited this clearing, I could hear their chatter and sense their presence. I walked around the nearest oak in hopes of finding a friend or at least meeting someone. As I rounded the trunk of the tree, among some scattered twigs and debris, I had the luck of meeting, not just another animal, but another owl, much like me! I had never seen another owl before, though I had seen myself countless times in the mirror, and was pleasantly surprised to find that this owl was a girl.
“Hello!” I said.
She made no response.
“I’m new around here, how are you?”
She only turned away.
Confused, I followed her around. She seemed rumpled and in disarray; not quite flying, but hopping around, rooting in the long grass. She was mumbling something that I couldn’t quite make out. I drew nearer to see if I could hear what she was saying. She seemed to be lamenting about something, and as I came closer I could hear her saying:
“Oh my children, my children.”
Now, she didn’t seem that much older than me, so I imagined that she was a new mother and her children were lost or something. I was about to offer to help her when she shrieked and rushed by me, not even noticing that I was there. I turned to see what had caught her attention. She continued to squawk incomprehensibly and jumped around a round white stone. That’s odd. I thought.
With her beak, she began rolling this stone back towards the oak tree. I stepped out of her way, unsure as to whether or not I should try to help. She pressed forward with such deliberate intensity that I thought it best to stay back. When she got the stone back to the twigs and debris around the base of the tree, I noticed something quite curious.
The debris around the tree was not simply debris at all, they seemed to make the rough shape of a nest, as if a nest had fallen from the tree above. The female owl began primping the area around the stone. She then ruffled her feathers and settled her body upon the rock. I came closer, to point out to her that the stone was not an egg, when I looked closer and was horrified to find that among the twigs and moss, were the broken remains of several eggs, eggs that had not survived a fall from an oak. I looked back at the mother and noticed her rocking gently on her haunches staring blankly into space.
“Oh my children, my children.” She said over and over and over.
In terror, I ran blindly into the forest and kept running.
* * *
Darkness began to settle upon the forest before I stopped running. Like a gentle blanket it caressed the trees and branches so that, almost without noticing it, the darkness had enveloped us all. Oddly enough, I found I could actually see better in the dark. Back at home, the lights were always on, and when it was dark, it was time to sleep. Here, free, I found that perhaps I had been living it all wrong, perhaps I should sleep in the day when the light stabbed at my eyes, and wake at night, when the light was bearable and soothing.
I made short experimental flights from tree to tree to see if the darkness was as enjoyable as I thought, and indeed it was. I had gone quite a ways, when I noticed I was hungry.
Now this was a problem, because I never had to look for food on my own before. My human always brought me strips of meat to feed me or leave on my perch for me to feed upon. I wondered what I might do for food, when movement caught my attention in the corner of my eye. There in the semi-darkness of the moonlight, was a grey mouse, just coming out for the evening.
I didn’t realize what I was doing until it was already too late. With a flash of feathers and a shriek of exultation. I stooped from my perch on the branch and crushed the mouse to the forest floor. I opened my beak to devour my prey, when I noticed that I could feel the mouse’s fading heart beneath his fur and I was touching still-twitching muscles and limbs. The spot of red beneath my claw had spread and now covered my feet. The sick-sweet smell of blood sickened me and the fading warmth of the mouse wracked me with chills. Food was always still, and refrigerated, always cooked and bloodless, not like this. Not like this.
I wasn’t hungry anymore, the darkness wasn’t so comforting anymore. It was cold, and it was dark, but not just visibly dark, but darker still within.
I didn’t like the forest anymore. I didn’t like to hunt or be hunted, I didn’t like the terrible sights I had seen. I didn’t want to be free. I wanted my perch, and my food, and my friend. I wanted to go home, but home was so far away.
I heard the shriek of a hawk and the baying of a wolf, and without hesitation set forth for home.
* * *
It’s morning by the time I sight the cabin. The stabbing rays of the sun make it hard to see and I am exhausted from such a long flight. I had gotten lost so many times, seen frightening things and only wished to be home and warm and cared for. I wing my way towards the cabin and see inside my human, just preparing breakfast. I see my perch sitting next to the fireplace. I see the carpets and the desks and the chairs and all those things that make home familiar. I call out in joy as I see all these things, only I don’t see the plate glass of the bay window.