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The Caged Life of Billy the Barn Owl

It's not Owl it's cracked up to be.

By Ashleigh HolmesPublished 2 years ago 3 min read
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The Caged Life of Billy the Barn Owl
Photo by Des Récits on Unsplash

Everything was silent, my eyes remained closed yet I longed for the darkness and the forest to truly be free. I would never be free though, neither would my friends.

All of a sudden 'CRASH' my eyes flung open and blinking my eyes, I saw them. A group coming through a gate and staring at me in my dark corner.

'Mummy, where is the owl? I want to see the owl' came a screeching squeal that made me shudder. I closed one of my eyes, and used the other to peak at the terrifying sound. Less than two metres away stood the beast. Ok, beast is a bit of an exaggeration. It was a small human making the loud noises, but when you are a barn owl who doesn't live in a barn and is instead a part of a travelling animal show, everything and everyone is scary.

'Honey, please don't yell, see how the owl shook just then' an older human is now pointing at me to the smaller human, 'You need to whisper ok'.

'No, I don't want too whisper' a shrill yell came back along with feet stamping.

'Ok then, we are going. Let's go see some more animals' the older human said pulling the younger away.

I closed my eyes again wishing it was quiet, but it wasn't going to be until night time when the show closed for the evening. Again 'CRASH', these humans, nothing was quiet about them, again I jumped as the gate slammed with yet another group of humans entering to view wildlife.

This was life as I had always known it. I don't remember my parents, all I remember was coming out of my egg in a cage and being placed in a box inside the cage. Humans named us, gave us food every day and usually let us be. A little while after, we were moved to a bigger enclosure with trees, branches, dark spaces and regular food and put on display for guests to gawk at.

The rangers named me Billy Barn Owl, and in the owl enclosure with me was Susie Snow Owl and Tabitha the Tawny Owl. Between us owls, we thought our names were ridiculous but it was for show so had no choice but to hoot and bob our heads on command.

We all dreamt of escaping one day and being free to be owls. But being bred in captivity and constantly watched and monitored, we didn't have the natural instincts of our wild, feathered friends in the forest.

As the sky grew darker and the humans stopped appearing through the gates, we could finally breathe and rest our tired wings and necks. In a little while the rangers would come by and feed us before retiring to bed. We each had our own little corner in the enclosure, but kept close eye on each other for protection from other animals.

Thump, thump, came the footsteps in the dirt, we each opened an eye to see which ranger it was. Hmm, I thought, that looks a bit short to be a ranger as a short figure with blonde hair snuck in to our cage. She looked around for movement and spotted us curled up. She crept over and as she was right beneath us sitting on our perches, she raised a hand and softly said.

'I am going to get you guys out of here.'

We shrank back. Who was this person. As quick as she was in, she got some metal clippers out of her pocket and started trimming a hole in the metal fence big enough for an owl to fit.

Looking at her, then the hole, then back at her, I took a step and edged towards the hole. Once last look and I edged out and spread my wings and I was away.

Beneath me, I saw Snowy and Tabitha follow my lead as we all soared for the forest.

'Hey, you there, what have you done to my owls?' came a loud voice as running steps were made in the dust.

'They aren't your owls, they belong to the wild' the blonde laughed as she punched the owner and ran off towards a waiting ute and sped off in a cloud of dust.

All I could think of was that I was free, we were free I mean, free to be owls.

The End.

Short Story
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About the Creator

Ashleigh Holmes

Married mother of an adorable little girl who keeps me on my toes. I love art, craft, photography and food. I love to write about parenting and the trials I have struggled with, and also photography as an outlet for lifelong anxiety.

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