The world is quiet tonight. A picturesque scene plays out in front of me, darkened by the moons waning eyes. The barn lays still but past its chipping red paint, and old rotting wood, the movement of barn animals is heard, though it is sluggish and seldom.

The farm is home to acres of land. Some of which is cultivated, and tilled, and some which has luscious greens already grown. The fields of crop is tended to by the farmer, whom is the soldier of the land. He works in the scorching heat while I sleep. The rest of the land is dedicated to the animals of the farm, ranging from small chicks to magnificent horses, who are out at pasture at this very moment.

Surrounding the farm is a great forest separating it from the other farms lands. Up on the hill lays the farmhouse. The downstairs is still lit, evident by the light seeping through the windows. Human’s silhouettes move through the rooms, and a motion picture plays in the background creating sounds as light dances across the walls.

I must separate my mind from these noises. As my hunger is high- what is that? I tilt my head and, zone in on my ears. I let the sound’s over flow me, taking it all in. Yes, it may be overwhelming but it is what I’ve trained for as a younging.

Now that I’m old, and weatherd, I know exactly how to play this game. I sift through all the sounds, and noises which are now even more heightened. Knowing exactly what I’m looking for, a prolonged version of the noise I just heard.

There it is! The pitter-pater of small feet, the sharp rustle of a bush. That is not the wind I hear, it is a mouse! I spread my large old wings, some feathers are broken, bruised, dirty, and twisted. But I am stronger than I ever was before. I take off, dipping down before soaring up, and I’m gone. Overtaken by the night.

I am as silent as a fox circling the chickens den. The mouse is quiet indeed but not quiet enough to bypass me.

I fly to the east, my wings moving like a beast but they make no sound. As if they were the farmers cat who’s on her nightly prowl. The world is black but my eyes are keen. I hear it again the sound that comes with movement, from which I can tell that this is one experienced vermin.

My large, round glossy eyes fixate on the area as I glide more swiftly through the air. I start to descend from the sky, my eyes grazing the tall grass looking for what moves beneath it. Though the only colors I see are black, gray, and white. I still see details very clearly, and always seem to catch the smallest of things.

I glimpse it though the grass, through the darkness, that deliciously memorable tail. Which also happens to be this mouses fatal blunder.

But I do have to admit, I think to myself as I dive downward, gaining rapid speed. Angling myself to collide with the mouse who hides under traitorous greens. That the sounds and movement of this mouse are so little, that if I were any other owl, I would have mistaken it for the sounds of the breeze.

I’m so near I can all but taste the mouse on my lips. Though it still shows no fear, as is the norm around here. Since I am, like the farmer, a soilder of this land. But I am the soldier of the night. Though in all honesty, if the mouse would of see or heard me, its demeanor would not be so effortlessly relaxed. I finish this thought as my talons wrap around the mouse’s fragile frame.

I soar up into the air letting out a fierce hoot that over powers my prey’s cry’s, declaring victory. I fly back to my nest in the old oak tree clutching onto the little mouse, tightening my hold on it, til its little heart stop beating and it lays lifelessly in my grasp. Oh I’ll eat good tonight.