A Curious Life

Part 1

She first spotted them through the slatted window of the cupola of the barn as a wee owlet. It was a gloomy autumn day and a steady drizzle poured outside. She peered through the window; her tiny head struggling to reach above the frame. She had only been in the world a few days and to that point, all she had seen was the inside of the barn, her parents, and the dead mice they lovingly brought for her. The barn was a dusty, ramshackle place but it would go on to become the only place she would truly know as home. Old and sprawling, the barn lay as a forgotten relic from days gone by; its successor standing proudly just a stone’s throw away. Still, she already loved it, her curiosity piqued by every little scent, sight, and sound.

Currently, a new scene was unfolding in front of her wide eyes. The otherwise quiet, sullen field outside was now packed with a large crowd of humans, gathered around a large, stone slab. They were all dressed in clothing darker than the night, quietly murmuring as they took turns placing eye-catching arrays of flowers at the foot of the stone. A man with a gold cross around his neck appeared to speak at length before a silence ensued. A hauntingly beautiful tune rang out, and the sombre atmosphere clung to the air and carried over to the little owlet's nest. She too chirped dolefully, gazing up at her parents who, oblivious to the events outside, were enjoying a late afternoon nap with their heads tucked firmly beneath their wings. Amidst this large crowd, the owlet spotted a girl. She looked younger than the other humans. Tears rolled down her cheek as she knelt, head bowed, beside the stone. As the hours passed and darkness began to set, all the crowd, save for the girl, began to dissipate. An older human tried to gently usher her along with them as they walked away but the girl seemed resolute. Unmoved. She just sat and animatedly talked to the stone, braving the harsh evening chill that was beginning to set in. Inexplicably, the bird felt drawn to her. The feeling was inexorable.

Over the coming weeks the field found itself empty once more; laid bare save for the stone slab. The little owlet explored the world with the drive of a youthful adolescence. She soon learned to fly and spent her days whizzing around, contently taking in the beauty of the rolling hills and exploring as much of the countryside as she could before her little wings would give out. She was especially exhilarated to discover the joys of hunting; often spending hours of the night learning to lay claim to the skies. Her skies. Life seemed so perfect for the little owlet. Still, it wasn’t long before nature intervened. One unassuming evening, her parents casually set off into the night sky. She waited patiently and when they didn’t return, she waited some more. But a part of her knew it was futile. They would never return.

And just like that, she was all alone. Her only constant was the girl who made routine visits to the stone, always bringing flowers or blood-coloured fire sticks to adorn it . She would speak at length to the stone and the owlet would stare curiously, wondering why – for how could a stone possibly reply? There were times when the field was empty, when she would flutter over to it inquisitively, trying to understand it’s allure. But aside from some indiscernible scratches, it appeared no more than a regular stone. Still, as with the girl, the owlet found herself drawn towards it.

She gradually grew accustomed to her routine of long, languid afternoons and exciting adventures, hunting in the night. Nevertheless, come rain or shine, summer or winter, she always retired to the barn. Her barn. Her home. She even took a special pleasure in pretending to host the random boys and girls who would often sneak into her barn as dusk fell, happily peeking over at her young visitors.

As blissful as this routine was, her main source of joy was seeing the girl. And as it often is when you’re young, time tends to move far slower and for the owlet, the space between those visits seemed to last a lifetime. She often found herself staring eagerly towards the horizon during the early evenings in the hope of spotting the girl’s loping gait.

Part 2

As luck would have it, a few moons into the owlet’s brief life the girl finally graced the barn. She was accompanied by a young boy who seemed about her age. Unlike the other humans who found themselves in the barn, this couple's eyes truly seemed to sparkle in each other's company. They would while away the hours; talking, laughing, and on occasion bringing along a small box that played delightful tunes. These songs would always change from week to week, save for the one tune to which they would dance slowly in each other’s arms. The owlet soon became accustomed to the girl’s twinkling eyes – the colour of a cloudless sky – and the boy's mischievous smirk which would always break into an easy smile. These evenings would pass all too quickly and almost always ended with them rushing home in a sudden panic, shocked at how dark it had become. Sometimes, they spotted her perched on a beam and giggled enthusiastically. The owlet was enamoured in seeing them escape to their haven together. It was as much their shelter as it was hers. She felt like a part of their little family. She shared in the love and the romance and while she didn’t understand what they said, their desire for one another was as clear to her as her need to fly. In fact, during these times, the young owl found herself soaring through the sky. Her hunts were energized, and her flights tinged with whimsy. Everything felt so easy. So right.

There were also times when the couple fought. They would enter the barn as they usually do but before long, it would be ringing with loud voices and cries. The owl would retreat to her cupola and desperately hope for the screaming to die down. And in those times, the days would always be darker. The rustling of trees during her hunts would assault her ears and she would hunt more viciously. Nonetheless, the couple would always make up. Whether it was at that moment or a few days later, they would always return, hands clasped tightly. Together. They would embrace and the peace would be restored in both their relationship and the little owlet’s heart. It was on one such night, after a particularly explosive fight, that the boy reached into his clothing and retrieved a shiny trinket, bright as a ray of sunlight. The girl exclaimed excitedly, pointing at the owlet who watched on curiously, safely perched on her beam. She giggled as the boy placed the trinket around her neck. The owlet too chirped jubilantly, flying around the room as they watched on, the air humming with their easy laughter.

Life ambled on at this leisurely pace before the arrival of the next fateful moment. It was a late autumn evening when the couple stormed into the barn, the girl screaming admonishments at the boy as he snarled back. The owlet watched on in uneasy suspense, the atmosphere a great deal tenser than that of their usual arguments. In tears, the girl ripped the trinket off her chest and flung it on the ground, storming away. The boy followed suit, tears lining his eyes. Feeling hollow, the owlet spotted the shiny pendant glinting invitingly on the floor. She swooped down and grabbed it safely in her talons.

A few days later, the barn door opened with a clatter. The girl rushed in, clambering on her knees in search of something. The owlet gazed on guiltily, reluctant to part with her newly acquired treasure. Fate had inexplicably paired her to this girl and it seemed only right that she had a souvenir.

Part 3

Over the next few months, there were no more visits from the couple. Others occasionally stole away to the barn and the owlet would look on, somewhat disdainfully, her mind constantly fluttering to her people. She would longingly gaze out, hoping for a visit, but there were none. Her only glimpses of the girl came from those walks to the stone. The owlet gradually began to grow up, a certain pragmatism creeping in with her rising years. Disheartened with the loss of her friend, she carried on with her mundane life. She soon felt the biological calling to find her own mate and decided to answer it in the hope that it might add some colour back to her life. Not long after, she met a male barn owl in the area. For a few years, she traded in her beloved home to nestle with him elsewhere. Her prized treasure, the couple’s pendant, was her only accompaniment. They foraged together and shared a quiet, and not entirely unpleasant life together. She soon became a proud mother to her very own owlets. She bustled around, desperately hoping they would add some meaning to her life.

However, she knew by now that the laws of nature were pre-established and the time to leave her owlets was fast approaching. The prospect seemed strangely easy. The only thing that she had any real connection to- was that shiny gold trinket. Her most prized possession. Shaped like her. An existential restlessness overtook her in the following days, and one night she made a resolution. She took one last glance at her sleeping owlets, and with her heart fluttering more than her wings, she took off into the night sky, the pendant wrapped tightly around her talons. It was time to return to her true home. The way back was effortless, almost imbued in her very fabric. As she approached the familiar scenery, she was delighted to see the sullen fields unchanged, pristine as her memories. Giddiness overcame her as she spotted her old barn, still worn, yet resolute in time. She swooped in through the decaying planks of wood and flew up to her beloved cupola. It appeared dusty but was largely untouched. She nestled contentedly, a sense of purpose finally reclaiming her as she drifted into her first peaceful slumber in a long time.

Part 4

She kept a wary eye out for her people, hoping they would return; her pragmatism outweighed by the childlike excitement of her unlikely return. For days, not a soul passed by the barn. She looked on unwaveringly, refusing to give up on their return. And early one morning, while returning from a particularly long hunt, she spotted a familiar stride. The owl zoomed through the barn hooting elatedly. The girl was okay! A few days later, she heard the barn door creak open. Against all odds, another familiar face entered, his trademark mischievous grin plastered on his face as he ambled in, followed closely by the girl. They had returned. Much like her. Hands clasped. Together.

They looked grown now. The girl was a woman, and the man was lean and muscular. He had grown a thick coat of facial hair. Their youthful giggles were replaced by assured, comfortable silences but the glimmer had persisted in the gazes they shared. She hooted happily, and they spotted her from the corner of their eyes. They exclaimed in awe, gesturing at her. And just like that she was an owlet again. These were the times the owl would look back on as the happiest in her life.

A few moons passed in this leisurely manner before the barn saw another momentous milestone. It was a late evening, and the barn owl was about to set off on a hunt, when the door creaked open. The couple ambled in, and the man handed the woman a bouquet of flowers, to which her face lit up. Humans really seemed to use flowers for everything. Beside him was that wonderful music box. And as they sat there talking, the man gingerly knelt down on one knee with tears in his eyes, but a smile etched on his face. Tears pouring down her face, the girl mirrored his smile, her eyes radiant over his earnest gaze. The bird sensed the special moment and watched on buoyantly. Almost on cue, music emanated from the box, and the same old melody from years gone by rang out as the couple danced, locked in an eternal embrace.

The next months saw the barn overrun with people, picking apart every corner. Wary but considerably unruffled, she moved to a nearby oak tree, curiously observing the commotion. Despite having to leave her nest, she remained elated, sensing the body language of the humans, which suggested the arrival of exciting times. In a matter of weeks, the barn was unrecognizable. An eggshell colour coated it and the soggy, rotting planks had been replaced with sturdy, new ones. Chairs and tables were brought in. She looked over it wistfully, appreciating the arrival of good times for the people she cared about but bittersweet that this likely meant the end of her home.

It was a beautiful summer night, not long after, that saw the barn crowded with people. There were bright, twinkly lights hung in rows in and around the barn. In the distance she saw the man approaching, dressed in colours as dark as the night, similar to, yet far more splendid than those around him. Shortly after, she saw the crowd turn in unison as the girl walked into view. She was positively ravishing, donning a dress in the shade of a dove. Music and laughter filled the night sky till the early hours of the morning.

Things cleared in the weeks that followed and she chanced a visit to her nest. To her surprise, it lay untouched, but next to it, a small hatch had been built with an entrance sized perfectly for her, it’s interior plush, warm and snug. She eased in and gave out a little hoot of approval. And for a while more things were fine. The cacophony of a new house being built in the distance was slightly tiresome, but she didn’t mind. The couple's visits were more sporadic, but she didn't mind. For when they did come, it was always accompanied by a sense of melancholy companionship between the three of them. And like this a few more moons passed, and the bird felt restful.

Part 5

The owl slowly crept towards the autumn of her life. Despite feeling the gradual decline of her body, she remained invigorated by the delicate balance she had finally achieved. Still, she was old enough to know how fleeting this happiness was. Almost on cue, fate chose not to linger. It was perched on that very window where it all began, that she saw the beginning of what would soon become the end. She spotted the couple at the dirt road in the distance. The woman was sobbing, clearly overcome with grief while the man's puffy, red eyes belied his wan smile. He was dressed head to toe in a leafy colour, with a slightly darker hat on his head. They held a long embrace before he picked up two large bags at his feet and entered the machine humans typically used to move around. Tears poured down the woman's face as she watched him disappear into the horizon.

Her visits to the barn were seldom over the coming months and the owl was fortunate to catch glimpses of her when she would occasionally meander her way over to the stone. Her eyes were constantly bloodshot and the owl too, found herself feeling helpless, her aging bones colluding against her. Any hopes of seeing the man faded and the aging pragmatism finally won over the bird’s optimism. And then irony struck early one morning, when he sauntered back into a barn, casually humming a tune, the girl clinging tightly to his arm. The owlet summoned chirped enthusiastically, but her body lacked the spritely vigour to demonstrate her joy. He flickered a smile in her direction and a spark of hopeful yearning once more overcame her but as usual, it was short lived. He was gone by morning.

For a long time, neither returned. Not even for those strolls that had long become a hallmark of the owl's life. The owl began to fear for the girl’s well-being. She too, rarely left her nest, only hunting when she could no longer bear her hunger, yet vigilantly keeping a tired eye on the stone outside. Finally, on one gloomy unassuming day, after what seemed like an eternity, she spotted the woman out of the corner of her eyes. She sported a small bump on her belly as she struggled to walk. She spent a couple of minutes at the stone before wandering over to the barn, collapsing in loud sobs onto a bale of hay. Her eyes darted to the owl, her face contorted into a pitiful grimace. She spoke to the empty room, her words disappearing into nothingness, her voice breaking at every pause. The owl cocked her head, despairingly trying to understand but to no avail. The woman sat motionless in this manner for some time, before heaving herself up and struggling back out of the barn.

With the mixture of curiosity and anguish, the owl flew after her as she lumbered toward the newly built house nearby. Awaiting her was another large crowd, their clothes darker than the night sky. But somehow, the expressions they wore seemed infinitely darker. The sorrow of sudden grief. There were a few men dressed in the same leafy colour the man had on when he left, but there was no sight of the man. Once again, the bird could sense the sorrow. The day passed at an excruciating pace, and the bird retreated to her barn for a much-needed slumber. Her troubled sleep was soon disrupted by the sounds of the crowd gathering outside her barn. A new stone had been erected and the humans appeared wrought with grief. The owl too hooted, her tone of despair almost musical. The girl stood distant from the crowd, hunched over in an all too familiar stance.

Part 6

The days came and went, and the girl was not to be seen. These days soon turned into months. The owl began to feel worried, fear steadily creeping up on her with each passing day. She was on the cusp of giving up hope entirely. Then the girl appeared. The owl watched as she made her way to the stone, struggling to walk under the weight of the now pronounced bulge on her belly. This time, however, instead of stopping at the stone, she approached the barn. In her hand was a small container, and as strode in, she lifted its lid and began to disperse pale dust into every corner of the barn. An all too familiar tune was on her lips. Acknowledging the owl with her forlorn gaze, she proceeded with her song, purposefully sprinkling the dust. And just like that she was gone, the barn door firmly shut with a sense of finality.

Many moons came and went, and the barn remained dark and deserted. The days were bleak. Her feathers started falling out and even the shortest flights were an endeavour. The owl longed to die. There were no more thrills. Every task was a chore. Her sleep was disturbed, and the sorrow was infinite. She waited impatiently for time to finally claim her, unable to understand why she was alive, suffering through every breath.

However, a part of her always did know.

And one morning, the first sunny day in weeks, she heard the click of a latch and the barn door creak open. She strained her head sluggishly to catch a glimpse of the disturbance. She was greeted by the sight of two little feet teetering through the barn, cautiously accompanied by the woman. Wearing a naïve smile that only a child can, the toddler stumbled in, giggling at her mother. And for the first time in many years, the owl saw the woman smile. A proud smile, filled with emotion. The woman had found meaning. The owl had almost forgotten how radiant the woman’s smile was. An inexplicable weight left the owl as a sense of peace overcame her. Knowing her final breaths were fast approaching, she clasped her prized pendant one final time and swooped shakily towards the child, dropping it at its feet as she flew out of the barn. The child picked it up curiously and handed it to her mother whose eyes widened in recognition. The bird fluttered to the stone that had perplexingly meant so much in her life. It seemed as good a place to lay as any. And with that she eked out her final breath. She had found peace.

“Here lies Esther Athena Ceallaigh, A doting grandmother, a loving mother and the revered matriarch of the Ceallaigh clan. May her eternal wisdom shine the way forward”