Authors: A.J. Downey
Jessamine
I usually worked four days on and three days off. My days
off were Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Four ten to twelve hour days... I fed and
medicated my little lovelies before I went to work, Charlie would arrive
sometime during the day and make sure they were fed and medicated according to
the instructional whiteboard on their enclosure, then the cages that needed it
were cleaned and our rodent racks maintained while I was away.
It wasn’t just me and Charlie. Though it could be done by
just the two of us, we had a few volunteers that would come through and do what
needed doing. Never unsupervised though, either I or Charlie were always there
to watch, teach or consult with.
Our volunteers were usually at risk youth working off a
sentence of community service. It was my idea to go there. I knew we needed the
help, the kids needed something productive to do and Charlie and I were both
tough enough to keep them in line.
If not us, then for sure the birds were.
It meant paying higher insurance premiums, but it was worth
it. My way of giving back as much to the human world as it was to the owl’s
world. The owls got care and feeding, and a better chance at survival. The kids
got a second chance of their own. The ones who wanted it anyways…
Some of these kids were the epitome of the old adage ‘You
can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink.’
Some of them took to what we did like a fish to water. It
was as I arrived home that one of these kids came out of the garage with
Charlie, both of them beaming.
I got out of my tired red Toyota truck and raised an eyebrow
questioningly. Aaron, the kid in question grimaced at my scrubs which had been
generously stained with blood from a dog versus car scenario that had not ended
well.
I needed some good news.
“Guess what!?” Aaron called as I drew near.
I shrugged.
“Winter is self-feeding.” Charlie grinned and I matched it.
This
was the kind of news I needed to come home to.
“I believe you owe us pie!” Aaron chortled.
I dropped my jaw in mock indignation as I went passed them
into my garage. Winter was looking much better. I picked up the white board on
the exam table, rooted around for a dry erase pen and wrote out:
How does Winter feeding himself turn into ME owing YOU
pie?
“Because, we delivered the good news and your pie is
delicious, so to reward us for our efforts in bringing you said news,” he
pointed at me with both index fingers, “you, feel that you owe us,” he pointed to
himself with his thumbs, “delicious, delicious pie.” He smiled his most
disarming smile and I twisted my lips to keep from smiling myself.
Aaron had first come to us when he was fourteen. He’d
decided to decorate portions of Sequim with graffiti. Unfortunately, the town,
nor the police had an appreciation for Aaron’s artistic styling’s and he’d
landed himself with a pretty hefty community service sentence, an order to pay
restitution for the damage he’d caused and was also ordered to clean it up.
We didn’t play out here in the sticks.
So after scrubbing off his mess, and mowing lawns all summer
long, he’d ended up on my doorstep after his mother had heard about us from her
neighbor… Jaye Moore, director of the NW Raptor Center. Aaron had been volunteering
for Jaye but after some careful thought on the subject, she’d decided he might
be a better fit here at Moonchild Owl Haven instead.
Now seventeen, Aaron had grown into his own. Taller than
Charlie and me, by like a lot, Aaron was slender. Slender did not mean weak. He
carried some muscle definition on that thin frame of his and did quite a bit of
heavy lifting around here that I couldn’t. He wore the typical teenage uniform
of worn jeans, faded tee shirts and Chuck Taylor sneakers, his unruly mop of curly
brown hair forever in his eyes, and covering the top of his ears.
His hazel eyes twinkled from under the fringe of his hair as
he tossed his head to get it out of his eyes and despite how tired I was I gave
into his wiles and agreed to make his pie.
Fine, pie it is, BUT you have to do MY chores, and let me
get a shower before I set foot anywhere near my kitchen. AND you have to
explain to my babies why I haven’t said hello.
“Deal.” He said with a grin.
I snapped my fingers several times until they turned around.
Wait, what am I cooking for dinner?
“Don’t care as long as there’s pie.” Charlie grunted.
What KIND of pie?
“Cherry.” They both said at the same time and I balked in
indignation. They’d planned this all along!
Aaron held up a fist, Charlie bumped it with his own and
both of them turned around and walked for the barn. Aaron was whistling Warrant’s
song She’s My Chery Pie. Charlie chuckled and I couldn’t help it. I started
cracking up.
I went into the house still laughing and watched them go
into the barn through the kitchen window. I ducked into the laundry room and
stripped out of my scrubs, dropping them into the laundry hamper. Peeking out
from around the door I checked the windows for any sign of movement. Seeing
none, I bolted for the stairs and up to my room.
One hot shower and a change into some comfy sweats and I was
ready for my kitchen. I quickly French braided my sopping hair and went down
the stairs in my thick wool house socks. I put my iPod onto the dock in the
kitchen and started some music as I plucked things out of the pantry, cabinets
and fridge to set to work.
I measured out flour and sugar and took some sticks of
butter out of the freezer. I used a cheese grater to grate the butter into my
flour to make the pie crust. I stopped for a few moments to watch Charlie and
Aaron. Charlie had gone into Hunter’s enclosure which was the newly repaired
aviary. Charlie was essentially chasing him from one end to the other. He would
approach, Hunter would take off and fly to the other end, rinse and repeat. It
seemed mean to do, but it was an essential part of Hunter’s recovery.
He needed to build up his wing and leg to full strength
before he could be released. The next step was to take him out on a line. Much
like when you’d watch horses run in circles around their human on a long lead.
So too did we work with an owl, flying them out on a lead by their feet.
Hunter wouldn’t be ready for that for a while, but he was
recovering remarkably fast as it was. I was happy to see it. Proud of him even.
I returned to my baking. The dark cherries from my freezer
nearly thawed enough for the filling, I flopped my first crust into a heavy
ceramic pie baking dish. I pressed it in against the sides and smiled as Aaron
and Charlie laughed at something. These were the days I found myself content,
happy even.
Surrounded by the birds and people I loved, doing something
to make their lives better, happier… This was paradise.
I mixed my filling, poured it into the waiting pie shell and
rolled out a roof for my cherry house, smiling fondly at the memory of my aunt
teaching me to bake this particular recipe. She’d gotten teary and made me
promise to bake it for Charlie for every occasion big or small. It was, after
all, his favorite.
I put my pie into the oven after giving the top a sugary egg
wash to turn the crust golden brown. I put my hands on my hips and turned back
to the floury mess on my countertop. I shrugged and set about making my Aunt’s
fireweed honey biscuits to go along with a dinner, even though I still had no
idea what I was cooking for a main course.
Biscuits laid out on cookie sheets and taking up the second
oven I decided what it was I was going to make. It was going to be a giant
freaking pie fest up in here tonight, full of butter and so on. Didn’t do it
often so it would be completely worth it. I started in on a savory pie crust
and brought out six ramekins. I made up six individual chicken pot pies from
scratch and put them in after the biscuits came out.
I piled the biscuits on a plate and left out a dish of
honey, black raspberry jam and butter on our little lunch counter. The pie went
on the counter by the sink to cool and I rang the boys in for supper.
When Charlie stepped inside he gave a low whistle.
“Jess you need to feed me like this more often!” I snorted
and pulled the white board off its magnets on the fridge. I had these things
stashed everywhere.
I feed you like this all the time!
“Wow, you get to eat like this all the time?” Aaron asked.
“When she’s being nice to me.”
“Dude, she’s nice all the time to everyone.” Aaron said and
I blushed a little that he would think so.
They both sat down and I served up the pot pies with a
heaping serving of steamed broccoli on the side.
“You definitely need to feed
me
like this more
often.” Aaron mumbled around a mouthful of food.
Come over more often and I will. Don’t talk with your
mouth full.
I wrote while chewing.
“Why not? You just did.” He gave me an impish grin.
So NOT the same thing!
He raised a slender shoulder in a half shrug,
“I tried.” He said after swallowing this time. Charlie
snorted. I shook my head. One or the other was bad enough… put them both
together and, well, yeah. Outmatched.
I smiled at the appreciative noises they were making at my
cooking, wondering if they were even going to have any room left for the pie.
Of course they would… not only was Aaron still a growing boy, Charlie, I swear
to God, was the proud owner of a hollow leg.
You know the rules…
I wrote and flashed at both of
them.
“I got it Charlie.” Aaron said, and jumped up.
“Hell boy, I want pie. Faster we do this the faster she
dishes it up.” He got to his feet and shuffled around the counter into the
kitchen. I laughed until tears came to my eyes at the two of them moving around
the kitchen getting in each other’s ways as they rinsed the dishes and loaded
the dishwasher at warp speed.
As soon as Aaron finished wiping down the counters I was up
and dishing them each a piece of pie, and by piece, I mean each of them got a
full quarter of that pie. I took a modest slice out of the remaining half. The
boys clanked forks, like they were glasses, said “Cheers!” and dug in.
I thought for sure they’d be too full, that some would get
left behind, but damned if they didn’t polish off every bite on their plate.
Aaron even went so far as to lick the plate. I made an incredulous noise when
Charlie, looking impressed, started in on his.
“What? I’m old. I can do whatever I want.” Which of course
made me laugh. Truth was, I’d probably be the same way when I got to be his
age.
Bad influence.
I wrote.
“Who the kid? You knew that when you took him on.” Charlie
grinned and I stuck my tongue out at him. Aaron laughed.
I was so out of my league with these two.
Aaron did the dessert dishes and started the dishwasher. Now
that he had his license and had bought that beat up, old as dirt, Datsun he was
over here more and more. Denise, his mom, fretted over my feeding him but she
didn’t need to. This family had never and would never begrudge a growing child
or teen food as long as it was eaten. Besides, Aaron more than pulled his
weight, and like me, looked up to Charlie and my Uncle Dave like the surrogate
fathers they were to us.
I sighed in contentment. The only thing missing out of my
day was my visits with my owls. I pulled on my tired old house sweater and
stuffed my feet into my boots.
“Going out there?” Charlie asked.
I nodded.
“Okay. Hey kid, make me some coffee.” I laughed and trudged
out the door making a bee line for Hunter’s aviary.
He was huddled in a far corner eyeing me warily.
“Hey Hunn-n-nnn-ter.” I said softly. He behaved like a
typical owl and kept his distance which encouraged me. I smiled. I watched him
in the dim light from my kitchen windows for a time and sighed. Today had been
a good day despite the disaster my work day had been. I was tired, very tired,
but none the less grateful.
I checked on all my feathered charges before going inside.
Little Rosie had died two days earlier, which had sort of hurt, but it wasn’t
all that unexpected. The poor baby had been really touch and go from the
beginning. Aaron had given her a proper burial and her leaf had joined the
drift at the bottom of the tree.
I knocked on the kitchen window and pointed up, indicating
that I was going to bed. I trudged up to the second floor and my bedroom from
the outside. I had to get up early. I ditched my boots at the door and smiled
as Hunter began serenading from below. I closed the French doors behind me and
crawled into bed.
I was dead to the world before my head even touched the
pillow.
Hunter
“Hey Hunn-n-nnn-ter,” she crooned at me through the fencing
on the enclosure. I flew in a short burst to the back of the aviary and
hunkered there as one of my brethren would. I had overheard the old man telling
the boy that if I continued to behave the way I had toward Jessamine there
would be cause for concern and I may not be releasable. Now was as good a time
as any to play the correct role.
I had watched her from my perch, through her windows as
she’d moved about the kitchen at a leisurely pace preparing a supper for the
boy and the old man.
She moved, lithe and gorgeous from cupboard to pantry to
counter. I memorized the wash of her copper hair over the back of her oversized
gray tee shirt until she had bound it up in a braid. The graceful curve of her
neck and shoulder where the neckline of her tee left them bare to my sight was
something to behold.
She seemed happy tonight and when she smiled it was
disarming. They had made her laugh, and though I could hear what they said to
her, I had a fierce yearning to be close enough to read her answers.
Her scent was carried to me on the slight breeze, rich and
sensual, lavender and vanilla and something else. Sandalwood perhaps. She
reached up to smooth some of her copper colored hair off of her cheek and the
movement was mesmerizing.
I looked her in the eyes and I was undone.
I had to know her.
She watched me for several moments more and went back
towards the house. When the bedroom light clicked out I waited, calling softly,
when the boy and old man left, I waited some more and when the moon was at its
highest point I
changed
.
I had done it once before, found pad and pen and written her
the note, telling her my name. The shift was easier now than it had been then.
I flexed my left arm in several directions and winced at the stiffness there. I
undid the catch on the enclosure and stepped out, the pine needles soft under
my bare feet.
I breathed in deeply, the night air and winced a bit. My
senses were sharper than an average human’s in this form, but much duller than
when I was an owl. I stepped forward cautiously and nodded. My leg held, stiff,
but bearably so.
Each form had its advantages and disadvantages. In this one,
I was stronger, denser, and much less fragile. As an owl I was breakable, but
at the same time I healed faster as an owl than I did this way. I crept to the
base of the stairs and listened.
At first, after the transition, I felt as if my ears were
stuffed with cotton. My hearing much less sharp. There was always a period of
adjustment when it came to taking either form. Satisfied that I was alone, and
that she indeed slept, I climbed the stairs. I looked at her sleeping form,
just behind the glass, the moonlight spilling across her features, turning her
into something ethereal.
I wanted so badly to let myself in. To run my fingers along
her petal soft skin, but the last thing I wanted to do was frighten her. I
watched her for a time, and confident in my plan, shifted once more. I would
have to be extremely careful going back to my cache of items, hidden well in
the Olympic National Park. However, if I could return in my human form, perhaps
I could convince her to take me on, allow me to trade work with my human hands
for food and board and in doing so; find a way past her careful walls.
It was a decent plan as far as plans went.
Of course, the best laid plans of mice and men often go
astray.