The White Angel

Fly my friend, away into the dark; moving silently, looking for a meal for your young owlets.

The rain has stopped and there is no wind, making the hunt ideal.

The long grass motionless except for Mr Vole getting ready for his 🌙 nighttime adventures.

The bad weather has made you hunt in the daylight – you make that sacrifice to raise your family.

The seagulls give chase, making your life even harder than it is already.

Rest now on the fence post; energy is critical so sit and wait for an easy meal.

The grass moves.

There is a sound from below.

You strike with precision and accuracy, talons pushed forward with eyes closed for a split second before the kill.

Hold it with your feet. Take to the air with your prize – one of 5000 that you need to raise your family.

Be quick – the sky is turning grey and the rain will be here soon. There is time for one more hunt.

No time to waste.

You exit the barn and quarter the field back and forth, then hover with such grace using your heart shape disc to collect information, telling you where to strike.

Like a dart, you tuck your soft feathered wings back and dive at speed; another meal for your family.

Up into flight, you return to the nest as the rain comes.

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