ellipses yard sale

6:36 a.m. - 2022-09-09
shelter

The owl was in a plastic storage crate in the backseat. I'd thrown a painter's tarp over the top, but en route to the wildlife shelter it became clear that he was too weak to climb/flap out so I removed it. This way he could benefit from the air-conditioning and listen to AM sports-talk radio with me. I wondered for a minute how (if he pulled through) he would describe his near-death experience to the other owls, “Everything was smooth and gray, and then I heard a voice...The Mets were bringing a new relief pitcher up from the minors, and Alabama was favored by two touchdowns over Texas”.

The shelter was lovely. A small red barn with an office inside, situated between a county road and a modest residence, pens and cages beyond it. Rows of oak-barrel planters w/neatly-staked tomato plants flourished in the noonday sun and wind-chimes stirred in a breeze off the river. The woman who founded and ran the place walked out of the barn, looking exactly like you'd imagine, only younger. (I had a brief “Last Temptation of Christ” moment where I pictured myself living here; bottle feeding busted-up animals all day and making beautiful, sturdy-limbed, country babies with my beautiful, sturdy-limbed, country wife all night...)

“Owl ambulance, I texted you earlier.”
“Was he hard to load-in?”
“Sadly no, he's pretty weak”, I said, opening the van door.

The patient was face down, immobile on the bottom of the crate.

“Well...fuck."

“Let me take a look.”

She donned a pair elbow-length, talon-proof gloves, rolled him over and gently lifted. Both great eyes snapped open as if he'd been startled from a dream, and his head slowly turned. Apparently owls are especially susceptible to concussion? I presume this has something to do with size, velocity and a predatory single-mindedness that leads to collisions mid-swoop. They often stay concussed for days but many do pull out of it and can be released back into the wild.

“See, look at his eyes, they're not focusing on us. It's like when you're drunk, you know?”
“I have a passing familiarity with the feeling.”

She placed the owl in a cage in her office, where he resumed an unencouraging, face-down pose. I filled out some paperwork while she explained that he'd receive vitamins and painkillers until showing signs of recovery, at which point he'd be transferred to a larger enclosure.

“We're releasing some animals this weekend, including a litter of foxes whose pen will be perfect for that owl.”

I'm actually fond of foxes, and even had one who'd show up at my place every morning for a treat (sliced cheese...all I had on-hand the first time he dropped by and it went over well), but I'm definitely in the rural minority. Anyone who keeps chickens or cats or anything slower/smaller than a fox feels decidedly otherwise.

“So, where do you guys release the foxes?”

“Um, you know...way out in the country somewhere”, she smiled and touched her forefinger to her lips.

I sensed that the owl was in capable hands.

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