Angie smiled. “You are refreshing, Mrs. Dristoll. I am thrilled you decided to come to Heritage Inn.”
“Me, too.” She offered a huge smile then moved closer to the glass, squinting and peering inside. “The barn is getting dark. Will we be able to see the owls hunt?”
“Pot lights are timed to turn on. The owls have lived here for years and don’t give the dim glow a second thought.” Within minutes, the room brightened, just enough to glimpse the bird’s movements while providing a haunting quality to their night activity.
A harsh piercing scream filled the air. It lasted only a few seconds. After a short breath, a second screech bellowed and the barn came alive.
“It’s the female. She’s telling her fella it’s feeding time. She has to beg for every morsel he brings her.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t like that,” said Sandra.
“You never begged for a single thing, Mother, and Dad respected you for your independence.”
The women twirled around and saw Trevor standing by the door. Sandra hurried over and dragged him to the glass. “Look – see that nest over there. That’s another male fluffing the straw just right for the new mama.” She looked at Angie. “Am I right? Is Mrs. Owl expecting?”
“She is,” said Angie. “You have a keen eye, Mrs. Dristoll. No one from the group even noticed the bulging female the other night when they visited the barn.”
Trevor grinned. “I see mice scurrying about on the barn floor. Perhaps Mr. Owl is teaching his screeching lady patience by inspecting the nest first before he directs his interest on tonight’s dinner?”
Angie laughed aloud, relieved that Trevor had joined them on the owl watch. “I can appreciate a man’s perspective.” Angie said. “Owls are very smart birds. Mythology has them linked to wisdom.”
“Hey, he’s exercising his talons. Getting ready for the kill.” Trevor grew excited. The owl’s head rotated two hundred and seventy degrees, as if daring the others in his parliament to interfere.
The plump mouse reappeared on its way to the safety of another pile of straw. In a flash, the owl swooped and picked up his prey when it was only halfway to its destination.
“Cranky, that’s fantastic!” said Trevor.
“Cranky?” Angie asked.
“You mean he hasn’t used that expression yet?” asked Sandra. “Personally, I hate it, but does that stop him? The only good about it is I know he can still get excited about something.”
“Woman, stop your mumbling. Mr. Owl is bringing it to the Mrs. Let’s see how she can beg.”
The screech sounded, and the owl teased the female with the fresh meat before he passed it over. She gobbled it down in an instant leaving him with an empty stomach. He turned away and once again scanned the floor for the pesky rodents that inhabited the barn and threatened the gardens beyond. When he saw no movement below, he looked toward the hole in the side of the building, large enough to allow the birds freedom to roam at night. Within the moment, he was up and away, flying out into the near darkness to find another small animal to bring home.
“I always pray for their safe return. They’re like my little babies and I dread the thought of eagles or hawks completing the circle of life at the cost of one of my Heritage owls.”
“Such barbarism. I hate watching nature shows on television for that very reason. Why can’t they all just love one another?”
“You know why, mother, so don’t play dumb,” said Trevor.
“Who me?” Sandra winked at Angie.
Suddenly, the female owl charged toward the glass. She settled on the limb staged for viewers, and plucked at loose and dirty feathers.
“On the other side, the glass is a mirror. Barn owls are self-aware and like to show off, parading themselves in front of the males when they return.”
Angie caught Trevor watching her. She smiled. “Love and fertility are big with owls. Would you care to wait and see the parade of the fittest when the boys’ return?”
Sandra grabbed Angie’s arm. “Not me, dear. But you and Trevor stay. I’m going to curl up on a soft chair and finish my romance book. The hero is finally showing signs of intelligence and listening to his heart instead of his head. What a relief. Good thing books have happy endings. I couldn’t bear to see fictional men and women throw away their chances at love the way stubborn people do in real life.” She brushed by her son, giving him a bump in the arm on the way past. Trevor stood with his mouth open, looking like the fool his mother portrayed in the characters she spoke of. “I won’t wait up for you, Son. Take your time. Who knows? The males in the barn might not be finished bullying their prey.”
Angie could barely hold back the grin. When Sandra Dristoll left, Trevor peered at Angie with disbelief streaming from his eyes. “I can’t believe her boldness. Did she really say that?”
“Heard it with my own ears.” Angie tried to downplay it to put him at ease. “But life doesn’t always wrap up with colored paper, ribbons, and bows. I’m more realistic than your mother.”
Trevor ran his fingers through his dark hair but made no move to leave the barn. Angie directed her focus back inside the owl sanctuary.
“I’m sorry, Angie. I’ve been a jerk.” She made no comment but held her breath. “If you want me to beg like that female in there, I’ll do it.”
Angie spun around to confront him. “Does that involve a piercing screech?”
“Suppose it could be arranged.” A smile of relief played at
