The Owl in the Day and the Night

Nathaniel lived in a modest house on the edge of a farm. It wasn’t his farm. He had only just graduated from school and was starting his working life as an accountant. The house looked out over a few old trees and the tip of a corn field; the boundary of the Millner’s property next to him. He didn’t see them much.

He had only moved into the house about two or three weeks ago. So far, he had accumulated a single bed, a wooden table for eating his meals, and an armchair where he would read by lamplight. Days were spent with his new boss who was pleasant enough, but a little preoccupied. Nights were spent listening to the sounds of the crickets clacking and the raccoons skulking around the grounds.

Then, one night, he noticed a solitary barn owl perched atop a thick, bare branch in a nearby tree. It was looking straight at Nathaniel.

“Where did you come from?” he whispered to himself. “Are you looking at me? Well, I’m looking at you.”

The owl continued to stare.

“Hmmf” Nathaniel exhaled, as he turned toward his kitchen to start making dinner.

The year was creeping into the fall, so the nights were getting cooler and longer. Nathaniel went to bed early and curled into a ball under the blankets to keep himself warm.

As his eyes squinted open at dawn his mind slinked back to the thought of the owl. He levered himself out of bed and took a quick peek out the window.

There was the owl, looking stern and ornery as it crouched stubbornly on its chosen post.

Nathaniel’s bottom lip dropped an inch. His eyebrows scrunched in on themselves. A pocket of air shot out of his nostrils as his mouth clamped shut.

“I see you and I know what you’re doing”.

He left for work with a little forcefulness in his step.

All day long, the image of the owl kept flashing in his mind. Its ghostly face and black-as-the-night beady eyes bore into his brain. Why was it still there? Why was it looking at Nathaniel?

“I’m being silly. It’s just an old owl. I bet it’ll be gone by the time I get home.” Nathaniel thought to himself.

As soon as he stepped through the door, he shot toward the back window to see. There was the owl. Relentless in its torment.

“Ahhh!” Nathaniel exclaimed. “No! What do you want from me?” Was it haunting him for something he had done? Something he hadn’t done? Perhaps it was a sign. Nathaniel remembered that barn owls were a symbol of wisdom or transformation or death, or something. Which was it?

Through the sheer lack of knowing what else to do, Nathaniel went about his evening like usual. He cooked dinner. He washed his dishes. He read his book. All the while, side-eying the window just knowing the owl was watching his every move.

He curled into a ball under his blankets and tried to sleep. The next morning, there was the owl.

“Not again. Not again. Not again. He’s judging me. I can tell”.

Nathaniel’s mind leapt from thought to thought. “I can work harder, I know. I’m just getting started and Mr. Morgan is clearly not interested in helping me.”

“And yes, I’m getting a little soft around the midriff. But between work and taking care of this place by myself all I have time for is sleep.”

“It could be a little cleaner in here, but I can’t do everything!”

Nathaniel nudged toward the window to face up to the owl, but one look in its eyes made his head jerk downward.

“You! I’ll show you! I’ll teach you not to stare and judge!

But Nathaniel left for work, his head darting back over his shoulders to make sure the owl wasn’t following him.

“If that damn owl is still there tonight…”

And later that day as the moon began pooling a silvery light all around, Nathaniel came home to see the owl nestled on its throne.

“No. Not tonight.”

He screeched the old table over to the window and piled everything he had on top. The dining chair, all his books, his pots and pans, his clothes, and covered it all with his blanket. He barricaded the owl out of his life.

“That’s it. Try spying on me now! You’re not so perfect yourself, with your big head and your scrawny beak and your stinky fur!”

But he couldn’t help himself. Nathaniel perched on the edge of the table, sneaking one eye through a crack between the books to keep watch over the owl. He was surely in control now.

His frustration turned to rage and then to fright. He jumped up and paced back and forth, back and forth. The only answer was clear. He had to leave. The owl clearly wasn’t going anywhere, and it was clearly set on scrutinizing his every move. Nathaniel dismantled his barricade, packed up the few personal things he had into his suitcase, and left. He quietly squeezed the front door closed so he didn’t alert the owl, and he tip-toed away into the night.

A few days later, Mr. Millner strolled across the field from his farmhouse toward the place where Nathaniel had been staying. He propped up a nearby ladder against the tree and retrieved his trusty wooden decoy from the branches.

“Funny looking thing, I guess. But it does help keep away the critters.” he thought to himself.

He slowly came down the ladder, moved it to another spot in the next tree over, and climbed up to reset the wooden owl. There it nestled, ready for its next watch.