Guardian Angel

Nicki sat very still on the floor of the barn, flicking a piece of hay between her fingers, and watching intently as the cat circled and paced. The cat would stop at different moments, and then begin her pacing again, covering what seemed like a huge expanse on the wooden floor where the hay was not taking up space. At times, she pawed at straw, and tried to hide, but Nicki would call her name softly so that she appeared, stretching and clawing at the ground as if to be casual, but it was so very clearly not a casual moment.

When she began to cry in earnest, Nicki had to work to be calm. She knew that her girl was suffering, but she knew that in the space of a few hours it would be over, and that the kitten she had nurtured from its own birth would now be a mama.

Her ankle length dress floated around her bent legs as she sat on the floor. She liked the dress, even though pants and a t-shirt would have made more sense. She felt like she was floating on air when she worked in the barn and the breeze would expand the bottom of the skirt, tickling her legs and cooling her during the work she put into caring for the animals.

They were her responsibility, even though she was still so very young. Grandpa had made it very clear that when he was away she was to take care of the livestock by giving them all water, food, and love.

Grandpa had gone away a very long time ago.

Nicki cooed and used a calming voice, but knew better than to reach out to her. She sat still, only fidgeting just a little when the wooden floor would make her backside start to ache.

When the first kitten appeared, covered in a slimy residue that the mama cat swiftly cleaned away, it began a cycle of roughly moving from one birth to the next in the powerful act of giving life in which the cat would push out each bundle of life, clean it, and then move about again until the next bundle would come. Nicki watched, making sure to stay away from the process as Big Pa had taught her when this mama kitten had been born, and then repeating it each time as new life entered into the world. She watched for the goats, for the horses, and for the calves, but her favorites were the kittens because even though the cats would want to go elsewhere to be out of the sight of humans, she had learned how to keep them calm and nearby until the process was over and she could gently check on the newborns.

Nicki was like Grandpa had been, intuitive about animals and able to work with them, rather than trying to force them out of their natural states. She moved with them, communicated with them, and she loved them, which was a power to which they responded. She knew when to use the voice of command, and when to whisper, her voice lulling them from heightened emotions and adhering them to her in trust. She was a piece of magic in a land that needed just a touch of something special.

She was such a little girl though, and they were such a big responsibility. The world had grown so terribly big on the day that Grandpa had gone away, leaving Nicki and her sisters to find a way to manage the farm themselves. Up in the mountains, there was no way for them to descend into the cities below. They had not been there often, and the last time that Grandpa had gone away, he had never come back. Nicki had been seven when he left, and that was long enough ago that she could only just remember the sound of his voice, booming and large as it was in that magical place called the barn where all of her favorite creatures lived. Taking care of the animals had been hard at first, but she had managed to find ways to get them what they needed.

The smallest of the kittens rolled and wriggled its way from the litter of five, its tiny body falling all over itself, even as she tried to find her footing. Nicki furrowed her brow, fearful that this tiniest of creatures would fall away from its siblings, unable to latch on and share in the bounty of its mother’s milk. Gently, with one of her own little fingers, she nudged the kitten back toward its mother, sliding along the floor and making no big movements, even as she helped this little tyke toward the nourishment that it needed. She watched for several agonizing moments as she wondered if this littlest one would be unable to thrive.

Her face lit up when it finally latched on, suckling next to the row of tiny bodies, all breathing heavy into their lungs as they fed from the font of life that was their mother’s body.

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a movement. It had been incredibly fast, but she suspected that the birth of the litter had caught the attention of something else in the barn. She narrowed her eyes as she looked for more movement, only to see a bit of hay move that should not have been disturbed. She rose slowly as she saw the slither make its way toward the new family in her barn. Big Pa had never taught her about the different types of slithers before he went away, leaving her and her sisters alone to fend for themselves. Still, he had shown her how to manage one should it get in her way. She went behind it so that she could grab the tail, capturing it near the head with her other hand and controlling the twisting body as she carried the snake out of the back of the barn and into the forest.

“Not today, slither,” she said as she referred to the snake in a term her Grandpa often used when he dealt with such intruders. “These babies are mine, and not your food. There are plenty of mice out there for you.” The snake turned to her, lifting its head up as if in an acknowledgement to her words, then turned back toward the woods and headed into the underbrush out of sight. She walked back to the barn and into the little alcove where the mama was taking care of her kittens. She thought about how vulnerable they were in this little corner of a stall and began to consider an alternative where slithers and mice could not bother the new creatures. She knew the rules of farm life, and that the key to it was not to be too sentimental, even if she could never really articulate that idea. Still, she wanted to protect the new family. Protecting the little ones was a reality that she had grown up with all her life, and this was a drive that had been passed to her from her Grammy and Paw Paw.

The kittens were back in a stall that was unoccupied and were nestled in a cluster of hay. The mama was cleaning them again, and it seemed as if her pride was on display as she washed each one with her sticky tongue. She looked at Nicki, who thought she saw a slight smile in the serene glance. Nicki decided that the kittens and the mama needed a new home that was secure in a way that was inaccessible to most threats. A home where the slither couldn’t harm these brand new creatures.