Pecking Order

He let the moist soil slip between his fingers onto the ground. As good as it could be.

In a sea of corn Harlan Walker methodically spread fertilizer over a barren spot in the hopes that his field would grow to cover it. Above him crows cawed annoyingly, vying for airspace with a larger buzzard gliding nearby. "Aint nuthin’ to see here." He said with his neck tilted to the sky.

Harlan glanced down to one of the spots he was preparing to put more fertilizer, a gentle smile grew on his worn face. A small bit of green was already sprouting. Harlan rubbed his hands together, getting the excess manure off. He slowly stood from the ground, extending himself as much as possible as he stretched. He took in a deep breath of the fresh morning air, besides the shit smell, which you get used to after a while, it was a pleasant start to the day.

Harlan started the walk back to the house, fidgeting with the hat over his thinning gray hairs as he went. His eyes inspected the corn for any deficiencies; they stopped suddenly at an old rusty shovel that was at the boundary where the living field and barren field met. Harlan was fixed into the earth as if he were apart of the corn growing on that very spot. An unease grew over him as the crows cawed in laughter above him.

"What's that doing here?" He said, scratching his head. He slowly stepped away shaking his head, he glanced over his shoulder at the shovel as if it were going to move. Time for the next chore.

“Come on! GET! Move ya asses!” Harlan bellowed his voice carrying over the moos and snorts of the cows. The cows slowly moved toward their destination as they were trained over many years.

“YA! YA! Come on! GO! Go! Go!” They lined up in a lane to the staging area in between two electric fences. The fences and mud always made Harlan think of a concentration camp or something like that, in a way it was one for the cows. Harlan riled up the rest of them and went to the front of the line to guide them into the barn. Cows aren't the brightest animals but they know the routine, food is coming. They came in groups of four into their stalls, where grain was waiting for them. As their heads came into place Harlan locked them in so they wouldn't budge as he milked them.

Dealing with cattle can be a hard job for anyone, though over time the herd grew smaller and smaller. The shrinking of the herd began once Harlan's wife and son left him. His leathery face tightened, the taste was still bitter in his mouth.

He wiped iodine on the cows teat, and rubbed it up and down to mimic a calf sucking. Milk squirted out, Harlan inspected it and deemed it good to continue. He then attached the milker onto the cow with its numerous tentacles. It vacuumed away, sucking the milk from the cow.

All of this was very routine until a certain cow moved into the stall. Blue Bell was her name. She was his ex-wife's favorite. Harlan shoved a fist full of sunflower seeds into his mouth. He stared annoyingly at the cow, who dumbly continued eating in glee. Just then the milk machine shut down. The milking stopped, and the suction cups flew off the teats. Harlan angrily spat out a mouthful of seeds. “What the hell?”

Harlan attempted to start it over to no avail. “God Fuckin’ damn it! You fuckin’ peice of shit!”

He didn't know whether he was cursing the machine, the cow, or his wife, well ex-wife. Harlan stampeded back and forth in front of the watchful eyes of the cows, he reared back his lanky leg and kicked an iron bucket across the barn. It rang loudly over the shocked moo’s. Harlan released Blue bell from her pen and she moved away as quickly as a startled cow can move.

Harlan swore under his breath some more before sighing, and returning back to his labors. He guided the few remaining cows toward the other pens. Harlan went through the routine, wiping down the teat of the next cow, and attaching the milk machine. Though he felt the feeling he was being watched now. He looked over his shoulder to see Blue Bell staring blankly at him. Harlan looked away, returning to the other cow. Though he couldn't stop himself from looking back at Blue, he was met with the stare of dumb, unblinking eyes. She stood there watching him, chewing slowly. Harlan yelled “What the fuck you lookin’ at!?” Obviously the cow didn’t respond.

“Git!” Blue stood there chewing. Above the moos and shuffling of the cows, and even the milk machine sucking he heard it. He could hear the grinding of Blues teeth, crunching away at the feed. Gnashing together. Harlan bit his lip shaking his head. “GO THE FUCK AWAY!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, a vein bulged from his forehead. Blues brown pooled eyes stared back. Crunch,crunch,crunch,crunch. Harlan's breathing was almost on the verge of hyperventilating. He quickly walked out of the barn, his boots squishy into the mud. He moved faster toward his house. He walked into the kitchen the ancient floorboards creaked as he went. Harlan pulled from the fridge a home made bottle of ice cold milk. He drank straight from the glass bottle, he didn't have to worry about anyone else. Harlan loudly gulped down the milk, chugging it as if it were the last milk on earth. A white stream streaked down from the corner of his mouth to his chin. He gasped, catching his breath he glanced at a calendar on the wall. “May 2017.” It was a couple years off but the same idea. Harlan marched outside, ignoring the crows.

Harlan made his way past the calf pens, petting one of them as he went by. He came around by the entrance to the barn. Upon coming around the corner he saw a black cloud of crows covering some carcass; he couldn't ignore them now. Harlan walked toward them shooing them away, they crowed angrily back at him as they flapped away. Harlan inspected the fresh body. His mouth dropped in shock, it was one of his cows dead. Upon closer inspection he saw that it was none other than Blue. “What the hell?”

She had been obliterated, her face caved in somewhat. Not only that, she had been shot more than a dozen times with what appeared to be bird shot and maybe even slug rounds.

Harlan muttered aloud. “Who the hell would have done this?” He scanned the surrounding fields of his farm searching for a foe that was nowhere to be seen. Despite his shock, he couldn't help but have a moment of bliss. Harlan fought off a grin as he left the carcass there for now, for the crows...

The sun rose to its highest point in the sky, its rays piercing the chipping white paint of the farm house. The shudders groaned, slapping lightly against the house in the soft summer breeze. The gentler amber rays of twilight gave the house relief. Harlan wrapped up the final cows and a long day's work. He stood at the entrance of the barn writhing his hands of dust and dirt with a bit of satisfaction.

“Time to hit the hay and do the same thing tomorrow. Eaaah.” He said as he stretched his hands to the moonlit sky. He slowly walked toward the house admiring the night. He stopped halfway, the cicadas chorused all around the farm, Harlan always loved that sound. It would seem the Earth was empty aside from them. Harlan continued his walk. When he got beneath the buzzing mercury light, it flickered on him; somewhat startling him. He looked up at it in disdain.

“That's right you son of a bitch.” He started again when suddenly the light bulb popped. The small pop of glass rained down on him.

“Ah what the hell? Ugh of course.” He stood in the warm darkness with his hand over his heart. Harlan resumed his walk with a smile, laughing at his own expense. “Yeah and that's a tomorrow problem;” when suddenly he heard it behind him, forcing him to stop dead in his tracks.

HOOT,HOOT,HOOT.

Harlan didn't jump this time, his eyes just grew wide in fright. He slowly turned around, his eyes were still adjusting to the lack of light. The sky was dark, a featureless ceiling of clouds. Though the moonlight still let him see it. The first thing he saw was the saucer-like black eyes. They seemed to suck the light from the night. Harlan's mouth was hanging open.

HOOT,HOOT,HOOT it said again.

Harlan turned his head, shrinking away from it. He spoke more into the cornfield than to anyone.

“Wha-what do you want? I've done what you asked.”

The owl studied him, it cocked its head to the side. Harlan winced, slowly looking at it again. His courage returned, though a false courage. He picked up a stone and hurled it at the owl. It missed, clanking loudly off the wooden barn. Harlan's eyes squinted shut, as if waiting for a blow or death to come. The owl sat perched unflinching yet still staring. Harlan finally met the owl's gaze directly.

“What do you want?”

“You promised it would be the last time! I'm done, DONE ya hear?” He screamed with his fists clenched to his sides. Harlan started to walk away, but his hand shot up to the back of his neck. “Ahhhhh ff-fuck!” Harlan stumbled, his face convulsing in pain. A piercing ringing started, it was like a knife was stabbing into his ears, directly into his brain.

“Ple-please.”

Harlan fell to his knees pleading in agony. He sobbed, “Please fucking stop, just stop, leave me alone. Leave me alone, leave me alone!” The pain intensified, Harlan's ears buzzed more. He writhed on the muddy farm ground, the cows circled around from a distance watching their masters' strange behavior.

“Okay, okay.” Harlan said with a breathless whisper.

Harlan said between breaths, “Okay god damn it. I’ll do it, I will do it.” He took a deep breath with an even deeper sigh as he finally looked back up at the owl. The two locked eyes, Harlan came up sitting on his knees. He hadn't sat this way since he was a young boy in his old church pew.

A tear drop slowly dripped from the corner of Harlan's eye. It flowed like a small river down onto the dirt. No sooner than it was absorbed by the ground, Harlan's face changed from the defeated man, to a man on a mission. A searing focus was now in his eyes. A wild smile came across his face. He stood smiling at the owl, which flapped its wings before taking off from the barn window. Harlan quickly went into his house. From the coat closet Harlan mechanically reached up to the familiar spot of his colt 45. He pulled out his dark leather jacket and slid an arm into it. His hand felt for his bowie knife in the inner pocket, which was still there. Harlan exited the house making a beeline to his truck. In his hand he had a garbage bag, which he tossed under the back seat next to a coil of rope, and zip ties.

The truck rumbled as it came to life. Its bright lights cast shadows throughout the cornfields surrounding the farmhouse. He paused moment adjusting his ball cap while looking in the rear view mirror, at first glance his eyes looked like the dark black holes of the owl. He shook it off with a shiver, looking away. Harlan slid on two leather gloves before pulling out onto the dirt road kicking up gravel as he left the farm behind him.

As the old farmer left, for a moment the only sound was the silken hush of the corn. The cicadas resumed their humming. A wild cat crept through the grass, entering the most freshly planted corn of Harlan’s. It paused observing fresh meat exposed from the ground. It looked like something had started to dig it up but left when the farmer drove by. So fair game for the cat. It daintily walked up to the meat. The cat looked around paranoid. It deemed it clear and proceeded to nibble on the leg. Its teeth gnawed into the flesh, it maybe had been in the dirt less than a week or two. With its rough tongue licked up blood. The air changed, the cat shot its head up, its ears shifting, listening. A small gust could be heard. All of a sudden a mass of wings flapped landing on top of the leg, what would be the ankle. The wild cat leaped in fear running into the cornfield.

Now the white barn owl sat perched upon the meal, its head twisted backwards checking its flanks. It pecked into the upper thigh of the human leg, tearing a strip from it. Enjoying the meat of an unearned kill, as it had for many moons. It hopped down from the leg moving on to the next part. The owl had many to choose from, the scavengers had been busy digging up many bodies. The owl paused in between bites, staring. Gleaming eyes stared back from the dead woman's face, her mouth hung open as if in sorrow, or shock. The owl pecked away until the eyes looking back were empty, and black as its own.