Col and Cathy were working on their new house. It was in the country on a hillside where a big machine had cleared away enough trees for them to build and live. The frame was up but they were still sleeping in their tent, at the front, where the garden would be.Cathy spent some of her time exploring the bush along the creekbanks. She excitedly told Col about the birds and the animals she had seen. One morning a wallaby, the next a platypus with a baby, but Col was more interested in choosing the joists and rafters he wanted to work with.
At night they were both tired but felt so exhilarated by their new home taking shape before them that they made love enthusiastically with the tent-fly lifted to be able to see the broad expanse of star filled sky float on the myrian sounds of the peaceful night. Afterwards they lay together with their temples touching. An owl hooted softly and a broad leaf fell onto the back of their tent and slid to the ground. Cathy felt very happy.
The next morning she went early to the swimming hole and trod quietly hoping to catch another glimpse of the platypus hunting for worms, but instead, she saw a bundle of feathers amongst the low bushes.
Cathy picked up the damp feathered bundle and felt that it was still warm. It didn’t move, except one eye slowly opened half way and then closed again.
Cathy felt protective towards the bird. She wanted to help it, so she hurried back to show Col and ask him what he thought they should do. Col looked at the ragged bird, some kind of owl, but wasn’t all that interested. He had a joint to cut that was getting him confused.
“Don’t worry about it Cath, the bloody thing will probably die anyway. Haven’t you ever tried to save a bird before? They seem like they will be OK and then suddenly drop dead. It happens every time.”
Cathy wasn’t convinced. Anyway she wasn’t going to throw it back into the bush. The least she could do was offer it some comfort and protection from predators. She thought for a while and decided that maybe it had been bitten by a snake and might be able to recover if given the chance. Throughout the evening she checked it where it lay in a cardboard box with a small bowl of water pushed into a rumpled old towel used as its bed. It hadn’t moved so maybe Col was right, but I hadn’t died either, so there was hope.
Finally Col convinced her to come to bed. They curled up together and looked out at the shapes of the trees moving back and forth slowly against the gray velvet of the night sky about to welcome the rising moon. Crickets chirped and the darkness hummed.
In the morning the box was empty. Suddenly Cathy realized the insecurity to which she had committed the bird. What had been stopping a cat from choosing it like a fat-lady plucking a chocolate from a box? How thoughtless!
The big wide world stood before her and just conceit had deceived her into thinking that her proximity could have offered protection during the hours she’d slept.
Col put the box aside and asked Cathy to help him hold a stud while he measured the correct angle. She was distracted but did the job; despite her pensive frown.
All that day they kept working hard. It was important to have the place ready for inspection by the council’s man so they could continue uninterrupted.
That night they fell into bed and Cathy lay there looking out at the stars, silent, tired yes, but now more attuned to the lonely feeling that had come with the loss of her feathered friend. It had been so beautiful; she had never seen such a bird so close, just as she had never appreciated nature until she had come to live amongst it. Everything about it spoke of harmony, the feathers had felt so right laying one upon another. It was strong without meanness. Powerful without being gross.
Col tried to split her from what he thought was a morbid track. He held her because he loved her, he soothed her as he would a broken wing, he held her as her tears spilled from here eyes knowing that the sentimentality was one facet of the love he felt for her. They lay there silently, comforted by the weight of each other embrace.
Out in the night the usual sounds pulsated and tripped. But one sound caught them flat. It was the sound of an owl, calling, and calling, to them.
ol reached for the torch and switched it on. He pointed it toward their half built house to where the sound was eminent. There in the circle of light, awaiting them, were two small owls perched side by side. As the torchlight played on them they began a simple bobbing dance back and forth along the rail before very purposefully joining. The male hopped onto the helping female and as he thrust according to all that had come before him, they looked gratefully to the lovers who had saved them.