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A Rabbit for Owl

Pregnant in the wilderness

By KatPublished 2 years ago 4 min read
Runner-Up in Return of the Night Owl Challenge
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A Rabbit for Owl
Photo by Anne Nygård on Unsplash

Darling should not have made the journey. That’s what they said. Let’s face it, a pregnant mother at an all-women wilderness conference was a little out of the norm. “Good for you!” one of the ladies said, “I never would have ventured this far away from the city when I was six months pregnant!” in a way that sliced her down as quickly as it raised her.

Darling hauled her bags over to the bunkhouse while all the women were watching a seminar on gun safety. The rooms split left and right off the hall like leaves on a branch. There were already some bags and jackets on bunks and in little piles in the closets. Darling looked closely at the gear, trying to picture the women who wore these clothes. She didn’t want to be in the popular room, the one that hosted the late night drinkers.

She had been dreaming of these Outdoor Women conferences for years, but they were never in the budget. This year, her boss canceled just days before and offered it to her at a discount. Impulsively, she was here, past where the pavement ends. Almost breathless. Her baby twirled inside her, sharing her adrenaline.

By Deric on Unsplash

Everyone knows you can’t shoot guns when you’re pregnant. It’s the lead dust and the bang and frankly it’s just unseemly. Riding dirt bikes in the backcountry, obviously, was out of the question. Dressing animals intrigued her but something about slicing into a bloated animal felt too close to the heart. Trailer backing, archery, wildlife tracking. There were still some good things to try, interesting, but not too tantalizing. So it is for mothers, she thought, living life a half step back from what they really want. Darling remembered her mother in summer standing in the lake, calf deep but not enough to swim, probably holding something: a baby, the towels, the flipper from the bar-b-que.

Turns out Darling’s secret skill was backing up trucks with trailers and she was one of the top ladies at archery when she could remember not to overextend her arm and let it get snapped by the bowstring. The bruising raised a few eyebrows. But she wandered when she should have been tracking, listening to the breeze and waters instead of her forest friends. She found herself at the lake’s shore, the salal behind her and the bulrushes ahead. The cedar’s long aromatic branches bent down like fingers stroking her hair and blessing her babe. She was in liminal habitat, neither land nor water but just Earth thick and squishy under her feet. Her baby twirled inside her, not yet her baby but also never more than now.

By Hans Veth on Unsplash

One afternoon, all the women sat knee to knee in a wide circle on the hot grass. You could smell the bush and hot seeds popping in the sun. The canteen had sold enough beers the night before to afford a special treat so the North Island Wildlife Recovery Center brought some raptors to the camp. Some were leashed but most were not. The handlers gave commands as the birds flew to vistas, almost disappearing from sight, and then back, swooping over their heads as the ladies whooped. It was magnificent and Darling was mesmerized.

The barn owl rode his handler's leathered arm and wore no leash. His pale heart shaped face seemed otherworldly to Darling. “Now this boy”, the handler explained, “he can hunt with great accuracy. He can hear a rabbit under feet of snow or a mouse miles away. Watch how he tips his head to pinpoint his lunch.” His handler walked the circle. As he neared Darling, the owl prickled, feathers lifting ever so slightly, and stared at her. He fixated on her stomach, tracking her second heartbeat. The owl was a man staring at her breasts, unable to raise his lewd gaze. Her baby twirled inside her. Darling curled her arms around her stomach, around her fetus, and hissed. The barn owl cocked his head, breaking his focus.

By Tegan Mierle on Unsplash

The ladies were drinking beers down by the campfire and Darling sat with them, finding the spot where the light ended and the shadows began. She was a bear mother, her strong thick legs rooted. “What do you know about sacrifice?” she asked the unblinking eyes in the forest, the creatures she couldn’t see. “What do you know about the fever to protect?” she asked the backs of the campers, their shadows tall on the trees. Darling wondered if the owl would have cut her open if she wasn’t paying attention, if she was dreaming, here but also gone.

Short Story
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About the Creator

Kat

A westcoast modern mystic and mother of two.

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