Wise old owl

Each year flocks of red beaked Finches would descend upon the sorghum and wheat fields, decimating them.  This was a great irritation to all the farmers.  In the evenings, the birds would fly in and settle down for the night in the grove of wattle trees in front of the vegetable garden.  On one particular evening, my father lay in wait for them with double-barrelled shotgun in hand. No sooner had they alighted onto the branches and stopped their twittering, then he blasted two shots right into the middle of them.  The air was thick with feathers.

My sisters and I ran around in the dusk collecting all the little bodies and putting them into a large, white enamel basin.  We counted one hundred and eight in all.  At the age of five, this was so exciting!  Something close to a treasure hunt.  I loved it!

When I turned eight, I inherited an airgun from my father.  It was very old, very heavy and very inaccurate, nevertheless I loved it, and spent a lot of time proudly marching around the farm in gumboots, taking pot shots at this and that.  I took it to my fathers workshop and securing it in his giant vice grip, did my best to adjust the sight, but to no avail.  If I happened to hit anything, it was by pure accident, and nothing more.

We had a large resident Owl living in the bluegum trees in front of the family plot.  I spied him one day looking down at me quizzically from the high branch he was sitting on.  Sometimes you do something, even when deep down right inside of you, you know you shouldn't, and this was one of those times.  I am ashamed to say that I lifted my gun to my shoulder, took aim and squeezed the trigger.  Luckily for the Owl, and for me, the sight was so far out, that the pellet missed him by a mile, smacking into the branch next to him with a resounding twack.

He turned his head round a hundred and eighty degrees, as only Owls can do, and gave me such a scornful look, as if to say "What are you doing now?"  The enormity of what I had just done hit me, and that act became a defining moment in my hunting career.  I vowed and declared at that point that I would never again point my gun at any other Owl that I might come across.  Doves and Mossies....yes, but Owls.... a definite NO