FLESH: Silent Running by Nan Ressue

Word Count 235
By Nan Ressue
Come with me to the woods. It is the perfect early evening; calm, warm, moonlit, peaceful. Tread lightly, carefully and you will be rewarded. There he is, enthroned on a craggy branch, silhouetted against the charcoal sky lit by the full moon which is hovering just above the horizon. It is the time of the night hunters.
The snowy owl is the majestic monarch of his world, perfectly designed to accomplish the task he is meant to do. A head that swivels gives him the 360 degree view and the bullet shaped body is a perfected aero dynamic design. Pristine white feathers and down and golden eyes with midnight black pupils capable of razor sharp night vision are his trademarks. Feather tufts cover ears which miss nothing. Motionless prevails as he watches, listens in the darkness. The quiet night with its muted sounds is a welcome companion.
The launch from the branch is smoothly fluid as he glides like a swimmer pushing off from the wall, floating on wings of giant span with a slow beat for silent running, circling, listening, watching.
The attack is explosive, the dive like an arrow, and the marksmanship perfection as the victim’s flesh is grasped in powerful talons with no hope of escape. The deed is done and the magnificent wings are spread as the provider returns to the nest where the never satiated young await his sure return.

Leave a Reply