Harmony

The barnyard was full of many creatures. There were the farm cats, the plow horse, the milk cow, the donkey, the chickens, the dog, and the pigs. And of course, there were many mice. But way up in the hayloft, in a dark and distant corner, there lived a barn owl. The animals only ever saw the owl when they needed to ask him a question, and each question cost a mouse.

The animals had lived on the farm for many years, but none so long as the owl. It seemed to many as if he had always been there, perched in his dark corner, never coming out until late at night, and even then no one saw him for they couldn’t hear him, and they could barely glimpse him flying in the dim twilight.

But they had all seen him in the hayloft, for they had all had a question for the owl. Some had seen him far more than others, for receiving an answer meant giving a mouse and it was not easy for every animal to catch a mouse. The cats and the dog and the chickens had little trouble as they had the skills to catch the little rodents. But the horse and the cow and the donkey and the pigs had much more difficulty. For one, they were much bigger and couldn’t get into all the little places that mice liked to frequent. For another, they were not equipped with mouse-killing tools, like claws or sharp canines. The pigs were simply too slow, and the horse and the donkey were often stuck in their pasture.

There came a day when a mouse wandered into that pasture. The donkey and horse both went to stomp on it as they both had a question for the owl, and in so doing realized their feud; only one of them would get their question answered. They fought viciously over the mouse, throwing wild kicks at each other. The mouse, caught in the middle of this fray, was quickly trampled into the mud. When finally the horse got ahold of the flattened remains of the mouse, it took off across the pasture, chased by the donkey. They spent the rest of the afternoon running and chasing, until finally they were let into the barn. The horse got to ask its question.

Treveya, the youngest kitten of a new litter, witnessed this gory incident. She had watched in dismay from atop a fencepost as the donkey and horse bruised each other with their stone-hard hooves. She had wondered if she should go and catch another mouse to give to one of the two brawlers (she herself was quite a mouser already), but their ferocity was such that she was scared to get involved. So she watched, hoping they wouldn’t kill each other.

And as she watched, it raised a question in her mind. She thought about it long and hard, then resolved to ask her mother.

When bedtime came, and all the animals were sleeping, and the farm cats had curled up in a ball of fur on a straw bale, Treveya spoke to her mother.

“I saw the horse and the donkey fighting today,” the kitten said.

“I think everyone saw, dear,” Treveya’s mother said.

“It was so… mean,” said Treveya.

“They were desperate,” said Treveya’s mother. “They had important questions to ask.”

“Why were their questions so important? Why did they want to have an answer so badly?” asked Treveya.

“We all crave knowledge. Questions that we cannot answer bother us. We want to know the answer. We want peace of mind,” said Treveya’s mother.

“But why can’t they ask the other animals? Wouldn’t someone have the answer?” said Treveya.

“Some might, but some questions are too complicated, and we have to ask the owl,” said Treveya’s mother.

“But why the owl?”

“Because he is wise.”

“Why is the owl so wise?”

Treveya’s mother paused. “I do not know,” she said. “Why don’t you ask the owl?”

“Okay,” said Treveya. She began to squeeze out from under her siblings.

“No, no, not now, dear,” said Treveya’s mother, putting a paw gently but solidly on the kitten’s forehead. “Now you should sleep. You can ask the owl in the morning.”

“Okay,” said Treveya. “Good-night.”

“Good-night.”

Treveya woke early, as soon as dawn broke and the rooster crowed. She popped out from under her siblings and dashed into the deep recesses of the barn in search of her prize for the owl. It took her over an hour to find a field mouse tucked away under a pitchfork. She batted between the prongs, jabbing at the mouse to make it go this way or that. At last it slipped out one side of the tool, believing it was escaping capture, but the open space just gave Treveya room to pounce. She had to bite down on the mouse’s neck to kill it, as she was too lightweight to snap the creature’s spine with her paws.

“Look, mom, look!” Treveya’s words were muffled as her mouth was crammed full with the mouse’s body.

“Nicely done, dear!” said Treveya’s mother. “Now, go up to the hayloft, to the back corner where it is darkest, lay your mouse in front of you and take a few steps back. Then say; ‘Oh, knowledgeable owl, I have a question to ask.’”

“Okay!” said Treveya. She ran up the stairs to the hayloft.

It was very quiet up there, as if the bales soaked up all the sound. The air was still, as there was only one window and it was boarded up and half covered with hay bales. Sunlight filtered between the boards, as well as through cracks in the barn’s siding and roof, but it was not enough to keep the darkness at bay. In one corner, it was so dark even Treveya’s keen eyesight couldn’t penetrate the gloom.

With nervousness and fright making knots in her chest, Treveya wandered over to the darkness. Because of her small size, she had to make great leaps from one bale up onto another. She wondered how the other animals managed to climb around on these bales. It must be very hard for some of them.

At last she decided she was close enough to the dark corner to lay down her mouse. She backed away slowly from the carcass, watching the shadows. She gathered her will and her bravery to speak.

“Oh, knowledgeable owl, I have a question to ask,” she said, her voice shaking slightly.

“You’re new,” came a curious, smooth voice from out of the darkness.

Slowly, seeming to take each step very carefully, out came a barn owl. His golden wings were dappled all over with grey and brown, making him look almost like tree bark. His chest and legs and face, however, were as white as snow. A mustard yellow beak peeked out from tufts of fine feathers, but far more striking were his huge, black eyes.

“A kitten,” he said, bobbing his head in all directions as he inspected Treveya. “I have seen many kittens before; you are good mousers, and have lots of questions. I eat well when there’s a new litter on the farm.”

With that, he pivoted over, picked up Treveya’s offering, and choked it down whole. Treveya watched, her eyes wide with wonder to see the mouse eaten so quickly and so unceremoniously. The tail was the last to go, and it hung out of the corner of the owl’s beak for a very long time as the bird worked on swallowing.

After the meal was had (in the space of twenty seconds), the owl asked, “So, what is your question, little one?”

“Uh,” Treveya said, feeling a thrill of fear run up her spine as she realized she had momentarily forgotten her question. “Oh! Why are you wise?”

The owl stared at the kitten for a moment, blinking his heavily-eye-lashed lids slowly only once. “Do they call me wise?” he finally said.

Treveya nodded her head.

“Well, I would not say I am wise,” said the owl. “I am… knowledgeable. Knowledge and wisdom are two different things.”

“Then… why are you knowledgeable?” asked Treveya.

The owl smiled. Then he began to walk towards the kitten. Treveya wondered for a moment if she should back away. Then the owl extended a soft wing to encompass the kitten.

“Let me tell you a story, little one,” he said, leading her to an especially bright slat in the barn siding, where the hay bale was warmed by the sun.

“When I was… well… of middling age, I had a friend named Rodric. He was also a barn owl,” said the owl. “And one evening he asked me, ‘Why do mice come out at night?’ But I was tired, and feeling unwell, so I said, ‘Why don’t you bring me a mouse to eat and I will tell you.’ So he flew off to hunt and brought me back a mouse, so I answered his question; ‘Mice come out at night because there are too many predators during the day.’ He liked my answer.

“In time, Rodric began to receive questions from his other friends, and when he couldn’t answer the question, he said that they could ask me as long as they brought me a mouse. They liked my answers, and word of my trade spread, and soon I found I could live off their questions. It was a good thing, too, as I was growing old and wasn’t able to hunt as I used to. And because I have been fed so often for so long, I have lived a long time; longer than most. Because I have lived so long, I have learned many things. So now I share them. For a price. Do you understand?”

“I do,” said Treveya. “Thank you.”

The kitten began to walk away. But she stopped, as a new thought entered her head. She turned back.

“But… oh, knowledgeable owl… don’t you go hungry sometimes?” she asked. “Because we don’t always have questions for you.”

“Yes, sometimes,” the owl said. “But then I hunt.”

“But didn’t you say that’s hard for you?”

“It is.”

“So… why don’t you just ask for help?” asked Treveya.

The owl stood still and silent for a moment. “Few give without receiving.”

“Yes, but, some have difficulty giving,” said Treveya. “I saw the horse and the donkey fighting over a mouse the other day. It was horrible. They hurt each other so bad because they both had questions but there was only one mouse.”

The owl paused again. “That is unfortunate.”

“Yeah…,” said Treveya. “And… what about all your knowledge?”

“What about it?”

“What if you have all this knowledge and no one asks you about all of it? Isn’t that knowledge lost when you die?” said Treveya. “What if you gave us all the knowledge you could, and we gave you all the mice we could? Wouldn’t we all be much happier if we shared so much more?”

The owl blinked slowly several times, standing as motionless as stone. Then he said, “Little one, I think it is you who is wise.”

Treveya blushed.

That very morning, the owl came down from his loft with Treveya at his side. The new arrangement was explained to the other farm animals. When they heard the idea, they all looked curiously at one another, each seeming to realize that they had been living half of what could be. The horse and the donkey looked at each other sadly, then apologized for having hurt one another.

From then on, the cats and the dogs and the chickens each took turns bringing the owl his daily mice, and every night the owl told stories to all the animals. The owl lived a long life, being so well cared for, and all the animals gained new knowledge every day. The animals prospered and the farm was at peace.