The Barn Owl Omen

Unable to sleep, Jenny sat up in bed, looked at the old GE alarm clock and swung her legs out from under the covers. It was 4:00 am, on the dot. The air was cool as the furnace was off at night and the light from the street filtered through the thick beige curtain. As her eyes adjusted, she got up and walked into the kitchen, feeling the worn oak flooring beneath her toes. Her husband Ted lay sound asleep without a stir, with his arms above his head - Like someone who had a gun pointed at him… She had the same old familiar feeling of unrest, like she was waiting for a train that was late, or she was looking at an unopened important letter, feeling as if a there were a swinging gate in the breeze, waiting for a passerby to latch it shut.

She opened the fridge and the light cascaded out around her, illuminating her body and slightly worn pajamas she wore from previous Christmas gluttony. The reindeer on the shirt was cracked and faded from many washes and the red and black checkered pants were frayed at the hems. She took out the Brita, and poured herself a glass of cold water. Mechanically placing the Brita back in the door, she closed the fridge and took a large sip, the cold water shocking her throat awake. She closed her eyes and thought of her earlier encounter at the barn that day.

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“It’s just a barn owl.” Chris said.

It had been lying in the straw in the one of the stalls, its white, heart-shaped face peering out at them.

“What should we do?” Jenny asked.

“Well, just leave it there. See if it flies away.” Chris said.

Jenny pondered for a moment. The horses were all out in the fields, but would be brought in soon for dinner. She didn’t want the owl to get trampled if it were injured.

“We can’t leave it here, if I bring Rex in, he won’t like it.” Jenny contemplated.

“Well, I don’t know. Don’t those things have sharp claws?” Chris looked genuinely concerned, in his awkward 15-year-old body and his dirty Carters.

“Yes, they do. All for catching mice and naughty boys like you….” Jenny joked, but trailed off as she thought about how she could catch the owl.

First, she found a box beside the feed room, and gathered some old rags from inside a tack box from her old horse show days. She walked to her tack locker and found her heavy oilskin jacket. She wrapped some polo wraps around her arm, velcroing them tightly. Chris saw her and snorted.

“Alright there, Miss Owl catcher.”

Jenny gathered the box, slid the heavy metal latch open, then slowly creaked the stall door open. The owl didn’t move. She bent down low, and inched toward the bird cautiously, not sure if she would startle it, or if it would actually get up and fly. She could see its beautiful feathers speckled black and white and its black eyes watching her. She hesitated for a moment, as perhaps Chris was right, they should just leave it here, peaceful. But then her emotional brain took over in worry, as she’d never seen a barn owl in the actual stall, on the ground. It just seemed so out of place. She had seen one once before, out riding the trails at dusk; it had been sitting in a tree watching her. It had stuck with her, like an omen. This one had more cinnamon colouring on its wings and underparts.

She was now surreptitiously close. She slowly placed the box as close to it as possible. It shuddered slightly… She reached out with her wrapped arm, holding rags in the unwrapped arm and attempted to scoop it from the side and lift it up and into the box. As she did so, it let out a horrific high-pitched screech! Surprised, she fell back into the straw. As she did, the owl suddenly raised its wings and flapped violently toward her. It careened up to the top of the stall doors between the rafters and settled on a beam above them.

She could hear Chris laughing hysterically.

“Well that was the best entertainment I’ve had all day!”

Jenny picked herself up off the straw, dusted her pants off and gathered the rags and box.

“Well, I’m just glad the darned thing is ok, but we still need to get it out of the barn...” she retorted back, “and I don’t see you helping.”

She looked up at the barn owl and it stared back at her… through her…taunting her even. Its dark eyes mysterious, like a vast void of eternity.

Wildlife vs human.

Human vs bird.

Owl vs woman.

Woman vs herself…

Jenny felt an odd sensation of familiarity as she pondered her next move with the owl. If she threw things at it, that might work, but that wasn’t very nice. She could just leave it there, but horses were fickle animals and might cause a ruckus. She could call the wildlife rehabilitation centre, but it didn’t seem injured. It was if it came to the barn to ridicule her or give her a message.

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Jenny opened her eyes and went back into the bedroom with her glass of water. It was now 4:06. She picked up her cellphone and opened Google. She typed in “Owls and omens.”

The first link looked interesting…

“An owl is to the night as an eagle is to the day. Owls are generally a symbol of paranormal wisdom, regal silence, and fierce intelligence. This is because owls are both great thinkers and hunters; they prefer to plan out their strategies instead of using brute force.”

Paranormal wisdom? Jenny thought to herself. Hmmm.

Perhaps the owl was trying to remind her of something after all. She lay back down, staring at the bright screen for a moment on her side. Ted stirred slightly beside her, mumbling something in his sleep, but taking his victim's arms down and rolling onto his side, so they were back to back.

Jenny took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She dreamed of her ancestors watching over her and she dreamed of being able to fly. The latch on the gate was shut.