Sticks and Stones
And this is my life…
Supervisor: Come quick and look at the owl!
The kids and I, curious, go outside to see the commotion. In my naiveté, I initially believe that my supervisor is pointing out the owl as an object of beauty, as it is not a common bird in Otavi or Namibia for that matter. You would think that in these past three months that my innocence in such matters would have been shattered but my unyielding faith in man blindsided me yet again.
Me: Where is the owl?
Supervisor: See, there… (Pointing) He’s sitting on the roof of the food program shed. I hit him with the slingshot and now his leg is broken.
Me: What?!? Why would you do that? Owls are a positive attribute to the ecosystem and some species are endangered.
Supervisor’s Wife: Yes, we do have an endangered owls in Namibia.
Me: Then why are you trying to kill it?
Supervisor: It’s too loud at night. It keeps me awake. Plus I thought it was going to try and eat the chickens.
Me: It’s not a vulture; owls don’t eat chickens.
Supervisor: (Walking closer to the owl, takes aim, and hits the majestic white feathered creature again with a rock from the slingshot.) You might want to go back inside, you probably don’t want to see how this ends.
Me: (Mouth agape, unable to process the horror of the situation) In the back of my mind a constant refrain kept playing a discordant tune, ‘Happy 3 months at site. We killed a defenseless woodland creature for you’.
Fortunately the owl managed to fly away, probably to his slow, painful, and untimely death at the hands of my supervisor. I hope my supervisor rests easy knowing that he won’t have the gentle coos of the owl to keep him awake tonight.
