Authors: A.J. Downey
“Still, promise you’ll call me? Doesn’t matter what for.” He
gave me his card, his cell phone number written on the front.
I promise, if I need anything, I’ll TEXT you.
I
winked at him and smiled. He plucked his hat off his head and laughed weakly,
running his big hand over his hair.
“Right. You’ll text.” He said and put his hat back on.
Obviously embarrassed by his minor gaff.
Promise
. I wrote, and that made him smile.
Jessamine
I thought they’d never leave. These poor babies are
hungry.
I flashed at Charlie. He laughed.
“Need help catching up on feedin’ ‘em all?” he asked.
Will it delay the aviary repairs by much?
“Naw. Let’s get to it.” We moved about the barn comfortable
in our silence, feeding our temporary charges first before I moved on to our
three permanent residents.
I snacked on a granola bar from my pocket before heading
outside. These birds were work, and I needed as much energy as I could get to
keep up after the feeding and the cleaning…
Oh God the cleaning…
The pellets I stored for the local junior high school, we
got enough for the kids in eighth grade to dissect for science class and had
plenty left over for the next two towns over each year.
When it came to the outdoor enclosures, I had finally
invested in a pressure washer. It was easier to take the owls out and pressure
wash them clean on the regular than to scrub them by hand. It’s why the barn
floor had a drain set in the center of the concrete and a slightly angled
floor. So I could give it a real deep clean a couple of times a year in
addition to the regular hand cleanings. There was only so much newspaper could
do and we went through bales and bales of that too.
I smiled at our resident Barn Owl, she was a beauty. Pristine
white front, back and wings frosted golden as if she’d flown too high and had
been kissed by the sun. She was one that had gotten too friendly with humans
and just couldn’t make it out there on her own. I let live critters loose in
Dawn’s outdoor enclosure which was big enough for her to fly around in and went
swiftly the other direction. If it was dead when it got to me, no problem but I
still hated watching our charges go after live prey. Just something about
watching anything be killed disturbed me.
Yep, I was one of those people that was grateful that the
meat I bought in the grocery store or at the butcher didn’t look like anything
readily identifiable. I had tried vegetarianism, but it had made me too sickly
to stick with it, again, I needed all the energy I could muster to keep up
after my pretty fly babies.
I moved on to our other two residents, Piper, a little
Northern Pygmy owl that was vivacious and curious was my first stop. She couldn’t
fly. Her wing had been broken and a well-meaning teenager had tried to care for
her. Her wing had healed badly and that had been the end of her flight days,
still I loved her and kept her fat and happy. I opened her enclosure and
offered up a freshly killed smallish mouse. She rocked from foot to foot before
snatching the offering from my hand. I let her finish eating and offered up
another. She took that one too and bolted it. I smiled and put out my hand and
the tinny little owl stepped up onto my outstretched fingers. Piper had been
with us a while and was pretty well domesticated. I helped her up onto my
shoulder. She dug her talons into my thick jacket and preened a bit. Her big yellow
eyes blinked at me.
Piper was no taller than my hand from the tip of my middle
finger to the lifeline of my palm. Her head was brown in color and flecked with
white, round and devoid of ear tufts. Her beak a yellow two shades lighter than
her eyes. She weighed in around a hefty 2.8 ounces, fat for one of her kind.
Her tummy was stripped similar to a Barred owl’s markings. She was pretty much
an adorable little ball of feathers and she brought me great joy. Her little
toots for a call sounded on my shoulder and I can say with utter confidence, it
sounded exactly like sounding a note on an ocarina. Hoot hoot! Hoot hoot! I
know my smile got bigger as I moved on to our final permanent resident.
Odin was a grizzled old Great Horned Owl with only one eye,
which is how he got his name. It fit. He was a majestic beast, god of all he surveyed
in his enclosure. I hung a rabbit over the end of his perch inside the door and
got the Hell out of there. He could be unpredictable and a nasty old buggar
when he wanted to be and I didn’t want him coming after Piper. Piper was my
friend, not a snack.
I quickly closed the large outdoor enclosure and stepped
back. Odin side stepped along his perch until he reached the rabbit. He
seemingly glared at me with is one orange eye and stomped a talon onto the
furry little offering. He savagely tore off a strip with his sharp beak and
bolted it down.
Ungrateful wretch,
I thought affectionately with a
wry twist of lips. He continued to tear at his breakfast and I winced and left
him to it. Out of all my birds, he was the least shy when it came to eating. I made
my way back to the barn as Charlie stuck his head out.
“Got ‘em all fed except that big barred bastard,” he spit on
the ground. I smiled and put my fingers up for Piper who stepped onto them, I
transferred the little owl to Charlie’s shoulder and wrinkled up my nose at
him.
“Hun-nnn-nnnn-ter!” I said as I passed him by.
“Decided to go with it huh?” he asked. His brown eyes
twinkling in his craggy tan face. I grinned at him and nodded. He was
comfortable in well-worn jeans and a deep forest green cowboy shirt. The kind
with snaps for buttons. He had on his black mesh trucker hat that proclaimed
loudly on the front that he was proud to be Native American.
When I was fifteen I’d seen Charlie get beaned in the head,
opened up quite the bleeding gash. My aunt had seen the blood and freaked out
and had called an ambulance. When the paramedics had gotten here they asked him
all the questions you were supposed to ask when dealing with a possible head
injury.
I’d watched as the medic asked Charlie who the President of
the United States was and Charlie had glared at the man and shouted “Who gives
a shit!?” The medic had taken one look at Charlie’s hat, clutched in his hand
and had burst out laughing. He’d needed to go with them and get stitches but
otherwise had been okay. The point is, that was the kind of man Charlie was.
Simple and direct. Which given my limited communication ability, the pair of us
suited each other just fine.
Charlie had worked for the Washington Department of Fish and
Wildlife and was a Vietnam Vet. He and my Uncle were best friends despite the
fact my Uncle worked for Weyerhaeuser, the forestry company that had put the
Spotted Owl on the Endangered Species list. They’d hunted together, fished
together, watched baseball together and when I showed up, had pretty much
raised me together too.
My Aunt had always jokingly referred to Charlie as her
brother-wife, to which Charlie balked loudly every time… that is until my aunt
put some of her cooking in front of him. Quickest way to shut ol’ Charlie up
ever. I unashamedly learned every kitchen trick I could from her and used them
against Charlie freely if he was in one of his moods.
When Uncle Dave and Aunt Margie had followed their
retirement dreams and moved to Arizona and away from the rain, it was pretty
much only on the promise that Charlie and me would take care of each other.
Easy enough. We were best friends. Charlie was the one who
got me drunk off moonshine when I was eighteen. Aunt Margie had chewed him a
new one for that, screeching like an angry Barn Owl and beating him over the
head with her ever present dish rag. Charlie was as much my family as anyone
ever could be.
I went to Hunter’s enclosure and opened the door. He sidled
up to me and I reached in with my leather clad hand. He blinked at me and
stepped up before I could make a grab for his ankles. I made a low whistle and
Charlie looked up, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“He loose?” he asked. I nodded confirming. I reached out
slowly with my other gloved hand to put it on the bird’s back to keep his wings
folded down but he stretched them out. I sucked in a breath but he gripped my
hand tighter with his feet and simply fanned his wings giving them a good
stretch before folding them down. I had really expected him to try to take off!
This bird’s behavior got stranger and stranger the more time that went by. I
was beginning to grow afraid that he was too used to humans, that he wouldn’t
make it out in the wild. The bird bobbed his head and blinked at me. I looked
into his deep, soulful brown eyes, so deep a brown as to be black and smiled.
He was a sweet bird to me. Wary around anyone else though. I
put him in a similarly sized enclosure so I could clean the one he’d come out
of.
“You set in here Jessamine?” Charlie asked. I nodded and he
smiled.
“I’m gonna get out there then. Call me for lunch.” He ducked
outside and went over to the Aviary that had been damaged by a falling tree
limb in the last big wind storm we’d had. I hummed to myself and cleaned the
cages and enclosures, stealing looks at the Barred owl as I moved around the
barn. He watched me placidly, following me with slight turns of his head as I
worked.
He was just, so strange…
Jessamine
Three hours later I stepped out the side door leading inside
the kitchen, the one below my bedroom’s deck and rang the old fashioned
triangle hung there to call Charlie in for lunch. He came sauntering up a few
minutes later with Piper still on his shoulder. I smiled and waved.
“What’s for lunch?” he asked. I put my hands up bracketing
empty air between them and brought fingers down over thumbs.
“Sandwiches huh?” he smiled at me and kissed the top of my
head, walking past me into the house. Piper cheeped on his shoulder. I smiled
ruefully and followed them in. Aunt Margie would have a fit if she knew birds,
of any size, were in the house. Piper couldn’t do much harm though, being the
size of a Sparrow and unable to fly.
We sat at the kitchen counter. The kitchen in this house was
amazing, that too was Margie’s doing. My Aunt loved to cook, and bake and can,
and do anything else you could do with food in a kitchen. So my Uncle Dave made
her kitchen a thing of both beauty and greatness.
Charlie picked up his sandwich just as the phone rang. He
paused, looked at me with a wicked gleam in his eye and sank his teeth into the
thick slices of rustic bread. I gave him a look that clearly read:
Really?
You’re going to throw me under the bus like that?
The old fart just smiled benignly at me and enjoyed his
sandwich. I went over to the phone and the answering machine picked up on the
third ring. My Uncle Dave’s voice floated out from the recording…
“Hi! You’ve reached Moonchild’s Owl Haven. The owner,
Jessamine Connors is non-verbal so if you hear a high tone it means yes, a low
tone it means no. If your situation is a little more complicated than yes or no
answers, email might be the best way to go. If the machine gets you, well then
leave a message!” I picked up the phone before the machine got it and pressed
the number one, which gave a high tone.
“Jessamine Connors?” the woman’s voice came across the line.
I pressed the number one again.
“Er… um… Hi, I’m Janine Watkins, my dog found a Snowy Owl on
Dungeness Spit, I think it’s hurt. Can you come look?” she asked. I pressed one
and may have held it too long I let go and bounced on the balls of my feet
excitedly. A Snowy Owl! I’d never gotten to care for one before.
“Do you know where Dungeness Spit is?” she asked. Again I
pressed one. Uncle Dave, Aunt Margie, Charlie and I went picnicking there all
the time.
“How long until you get here?” she asked. I pressed zero for
a low tone.
“Oh sorry! Ten to fifteen minutes?” Zero, low tone.
“Thirty to forty five minutes?” Zero, low tone.
“Fifteen to thirty minutes?” she asked. One, high tone.
“Great! Great. I’ll see you then!” One, high tone, and I
hung up. I jumped up and down over and over excitedly.
“Calm your tits!” Charlie yelled.
I grinned and whipped out my note pad. Scribbled down ‘
Snowy,
Dungeness Spit, NOW!’
and slapped it on the counter by his plate before I
raced off to grab my emergency response supplies.
“I’ll be damned! A Snowy!?” he called. I gave a joyful
wordless whoop.
“All right I’m comin’! I’m comin’! We’ll take my truck, grab
a pair of gloves for me too.”
I shot out the door and took the stairs up to the hayloft
two at a time. I tucked two long thick pair of leather gloves into the back of
my waist band and went to the shelves of dog and cat carriers. I selected one
of the biggest dog carriers we had, stuffed an old Army surplus blanket inside
and went back down stairs. Charlie’s truck was already rumbling to life. I
threw the dog kennel into the bed and checked to make sure there were ratchet
straps. Spying the familiar faded yellow I hopped into the cab. Piper cheeped
from the dashboard. I gave Charlie a look.
“What? She won’t leave the truck. Forgot she was even riding
on my shoulder.”
Now
that
I could believe. He put the old Ford in gear
and the arthritic old vehicle lumbered up my driveway.
We were both grinning like fools. Snowy Owls only made it
down here every three to seven years and that was only if the feeding up where
they were usually at in the arctic was good. I’d only glimpsed one once, and
I’d never gotten the opportunity to care for one. While my heart was heavy with
sadness that the bird was injured, I was overjoyed at the opportunity to see
one up close outside captivity.
I nearly vibrated with excitement. We pulled into a lot near
the New Dungeness Light Station, which was Sequim’s light house, and before
Charlie had even come to a full stop I was out of the truck and reaching for
the carrier.
We traipsed through the sand up the Dungeness Spit, scanning
for people. Soon, we spotted a woman waving and quickened our pace to reach
her. She was in jeans and boots, wearing a puffy purple down parka. A German
Shepard sat in the sand at her feet panting, tongue lolling out the side of his
mouth I smiled.
“Are you Jessamine?” she asked and I gave her a thumbs up.
“Oh good I’m glad you’re here. I’m Janine.” She held out her
hand to Charlie and he shook it. I set down the carrier and stuck out my hand
and she shook it as well. Her grip was light and I tried not to grip too
strongly. I was used to giving firm handshakes.
I pulled out my trusty pad from inside my coat and the pen
from the loop, writing out a few basic questions.
Where is it?
and
What made you think it was hurt?
“Oh, he’s over on the ground between those logs. When ‘ol
Blue here was over there barking I went over to see what he had and saw the
owl. I figured something was wrong when I got close and it didn’t take off. I
got Blue away from him and did a search on my phone, two places came up; you
answered your phone.” She gave a little half shrug, raising one shoulder and
dropping it. She was an older lady. Maybe in her sixties, short white hair
framing a pretty face. Her blue eyes sparkled and she patted her dog. I nodded.
Please stay back, Snowy Owls are one of the more
aggressive kinds. Charlie and I will go see what’s up.
I wrote and showed
her. She smiled.
“Sounds good.” She let us do our thing.
I opened the carrier and handed Charlie one set of gloves. I
brought the kind that went all the way to our shoulders. Snowy owls had wicked
sharp and long talons and this was the best thing to prevent injury. He pulled
his gloves on and I extracted the old military blanket from the carrier. Thick
wool, it would do just fine if we needed to use it to throw over the owl to
catch him or her safely.
I made sure the thick bath sheet towel I kept in the carrier
was spread in a double layer on the bottom to make way for our guest. A mother
and daughter were coming up the beach and stopped next to Janine. They were
talking in low murmurs as Charlie and I approached the snag of driftwood logs.
He had the blanket over his arm and was nodding at me. I signed at him in our
own little language to hang back just off to my right. I climbed up onto the
big log and winced at the sight below.
The owl in question was a beautiful pristine white with
barely any black markings, which instantly made me think that it was indeed a
he and not a she. The females tended to have more of the horizontal black
edging to them than the males did. His vivid yellow eyes blinked at me and seemed
to say two things, A) Back off and B) I feel like shit. It was both pitiful and
heart breaking. I got down between the logs and the bird put up its wings,
fluttering them ineffectually.
The poor baby. His feathers were filthy towards the bottom
and around his feet, which told me he’d been on the ground longer than a
minute.
I reached out carefully and got him by his ankles, rendering
his talons useless. I held on firmly but gently as he beat his wings and barked
at me, snapping his bill. I was slightly reassured that he had some fight in
him but he abandoned the effort pretty quickly.
“Well he’s in a helluva fix ain’t he?” Charlie remarked. I
nodded and winced. I made several attempts for him to fold his wings so I could
cradle him enough to get him up and out of the snag. Finally he cooperated.
Snowy Owls are supposed to weigh in around four pounds, I could already tell
that this boy was severely underweight. I handed him up to Charlie, who with
long practice made the exchange quick and seamless, when I was sure he had the
bird’s talons in check, I let go. I scrambled over the log to the other side
and we made the exchange again so Charlie could jump down. It was the easiest
way to do it to keep the bird’s already skyrocketing stress level down.
“Straight to your Hospital then?” he asked. I nodded
vigorously and with Charlie’s help slid the poor bird into the carrier.
Our three onlookers clapped as I clasped the carrier shut. I
looked in at the Snowy a moment in wonder that I actually got to help one of
these magnificent birds but was quickly snapped out of my reverie by Charlie.
“Name him yet?” he grunted. I shook my head.
“Can I?” the little girl asked excitedly.
“Sure, give it a shot.” Charlie said, winking at me over her
head.
“Hedwig!” she cried and I died a little inside. I shook my
head and surreptitiously gave the sign to Charlie that the owl was a boy.
“This owl is a boy not a girl, you can’t give him a girl’s
name!” he cried.
“Why not?” she asked.
“Why, ‘cause the other owls would beat him up!” I turned my
laugh into a cough and schooled my features into all seriousness, nodding
gravely at what Charlie was saying.
“Oh, then what about… Lightning! He’s fast right? When he’s
not hurt.” I chewed my lower lip and thought about it. Nodding finally. Charlie
raised an eyebrow and I shot him a look. He laughed and turned it into a cough.
Yeah I was pretty sure the name was changing too but for now it would do. I
gave him an impatient signal.
“Well okay, say good bye to Lightning. He’s gotta go see a
Doctor so we can make him better.” The little girl’s brown braids bobbed
against her shoulders as she smiled sweetly up at the old man. She ducked down
in front of the carrier and looked in.
“Good bye Lightning!” she chirped through her missing front
teeth. She waved at the bird who looked decidedly grumpy and turned away from
her. She pouted out her lower lip and returned to her mom.
“Thank you.” The woman said hugging her daughter. I nodded
and gave a wave that said not to mention it and turned to Janine. I shook her
hand and tried to give her my best grateful look.
“Thank you for coming on such short notice. I hope you’re
able to take care of him.” I nodded and handed her a crinkled business card out
of my pocket with the Haven’s address on it. Charlie picked up the carrier and
I tucked the two pair of gloves and blanket over my arm.
Back at the truck he carefully ratchet strapped the carrier
up against the cab.
“So what do you think you’re really gonna name him?” he
asked. I raised one shoulder and locked eyes with the bird. He blinked at me
and just looked pitiful. I furrowed my brow and gave Charlie a sharp look.
“Keep yer panties on kid. I’m almost done.” I frowned at him
and punched him lightly in the arm. He laughed.
Ornery old coot.