Birds

Chapter 16 - Mr. Holmes

It was dark and quiet when Henry returned to the barn. The only light was the soft shine of an outer lamp situated by the main-house. Henry swooped down and landed in the hay. There was a soft rustling and a squeak, then Hubert appeared.

“Gosh, you almost scared meself to death,” the rat snorted. “I thought you was an owl.”

“I am an owl,” Henry said plainly, “and to remind you, you’re a dirty stinking rat.”

“Got it,” the rat replied irritated. There was a pause then Hubert sighed. “Well, I’m off.” He began hurrying through the hay.

“Hey,” Henry whispered. ”Where’re you going?” But the rat was out of sight. Henry raised his eyebrows. He would never understand Hubert, and he knew Hubert would never understand him. That was just how things were and Henry guessed that it was going to stay that way. The rat did not amuse him. Henry thought him an ungrateful creature and he did not yet really trust him. Henry wondered if the animal had ever had family, but guessed that he would probably never find out.

The owl trotted quietly through the hay. All the doves were fast asleep, lying gracefully in the hay and breathing deeply. It looked very soothing and Henry suddenly noticed how tired he was. He perched himself into a comfortable position, shuffled his feathers and was about to close his eyes when a voice said.

“That’s quite odd.” It was a gentle, peaceful voice. It wasn’t a shout nether a whisper, it was a soft statement.

Henry lifted his head surprised and squinted into the dark trying to locate the source. Had he been dreaming? Apparently, there was nobody there as far as he could tell. Henry looked again into the dark, still he saw nothing. He shook his head. He had surely just imagined it, but just as he thought so the voice came again.

“That really is quite odd.”

Henry looked up and his eyes widened. Above him, on one of the beams holding the barn roof, sat an owl. It sat looking down at him with big yellow eyes, a small amused look upon its face. Henry swallowed and spoke.

“Excuse me, what’s odd?”

The owl kept staring at Henry and then answered in a soft tone.

“You.”

There was silence. The owl had not moved, its yellow eyes were fixed upon the owl below. Henry felt uncomfortable. He flapped his wings and flew up to the beam. The other owl turned to him as he landed. As Henry folded together his wings, the owl blinked.

“Who are you?” Henry asked slowly.

“I’m Mr. Holmes,” the owl said plainly and smiled.

“I’m sorry,” Henry said, “but why am I odd?”

The owl stared amusingly at him. “You sleep at night and eat no mice, you are an unusual owl.”

Henry sighed and looked away. “Yeah, I know I’m unusual, I’ve almost always been like that.”

Mr. Holmes looked him up and down and then said. “You know, it might be otherwise. Owls do differently than other birds, we are the ones who sleep late and hunt for strangeness. Perhaps we are the unusual and not you.”

Henry stared at him. He had never thought of it in that way. He had always rejected himself for being different, but perhaps he wasn’t so different after all. Not compared to other birds anyway.

“I see my comment has astounded you,” Mr. Holmes said sympathetically. Before Henry could answer, Sam appeared beside him. Henry jumped surprised. He hadn’t heard Sam fly up. Mr Holmes apparently had for he didn’t look the least surprised. He looked down at the little dove with his big yellow eyes.