Terri, The Rescued Barn Owl

Jordan and I are huddled down on the muddy grass, under Margie Gordan’s chicken barn. Although I am covered in chicken muck, my heart is racing fast as I hold onto one part of the dynamite stick. I tell Jordan to quit quivering like a sissy and be a man. But since he is only half a year older than my fifteen years, I knew it was all hot air.

“I don’t want to do this,” Jordan whines, making a face. “My legs are killing me.”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t stop being a weak-kneed possum! We got in this together and we’ll do it together,” I said, loudly.

Jordan tries to get up, but I push him back down again, and he cries out like a sow giving birth.

“We don’t have any other choice,” I say firmly, holding a stick of dynamite in my hands.

I knew in my heart that it was Miss Fran’s house, which was my target and the reason for my being under a smelly barn with a scared little boy. I was afraid, too, but I held back any look of fear.

“Stop crying! You’re yellow!.” I need to keep Jordan’s mind busy. “Hold this,” I demand and pass him the detonator.

“I need to check to see if there is enough.”

I mentally remember loading 20 sticks under her window. Everything looks good. All that is needed is just a good light on the fuse and everything would explode with a big bang, I tell myself.

There was no choice. I needed to do this for Miss Fran. But nobody believed me and Jordan, so we had to do what we had to do. Before you think badly of me and Jordan, you have to listen to my story. Please don’t judge us as ignorant and violent kids, until you understand what happened to us. Let me start from the beginning.

The Beginning

My Mom moved to Hope, BC a few years ago.

We didn’t know anyone there at first, but we were welcomed with open arms by the townsfolk. We had to leave our home near Oregon, Washington because my Mom had to get away from my Dad, who had threatened to kill her after he finished his 2-year term in prison. We took everything that we had in our possessions and loaded up a van and moved across the border to stay with my Mom’s sister.

Mother eventually found a job at the local bank and we ended up staying for good at her sister’s house. My Mom’s sister, Erica Jang, had decided to stay in Japan to teach English so we ended up having the whole house to ourselves.

Mother was upset a lot of times because she was a single mother and had to work, as well as take care of the household, and us kids.

Mother wanted me to grow up and be a secretary or work in the office.

“Marcia,” she said to me at least once a week. “ Quit dressing like a tomboy. Someday you will work in a nice pretty office, wearing a skirt and high heels.”

“Yech,” I said, holding my stomach in mock pain. “ I want to be a detective, or a welder, or anything but wear a skirt and high heels,” I said.

My younger brother Jordan usually had 2 hours for ourselves before my Mom came home. We sometimes liked to go up to the lake after school but most days we liked to roll down Miss Fran’s front lawn. Her house had a nice manicured lawn and well-maintained hedges. But the main attraction for us happened to be the gently sloping lawn that from the distance looked like a mini green mountain. It was a perfect hill, and we could roll down and land softly at the grassy end.

Miss Fran would always come running out of her house, to yell at us for a few moments, before we ran off. We didn’t mind because we had a few chances to lie down on the grass and move our bodies down the hill, as though we were powered by the wind.

On the day of December 24, we did the same old routine, but this time we enjoyed it a lot more because it was the long weekend. We felt it a bit strange that Miss Fran never came out. The next day, the same thing and Miss Fran never ran out of her home to chase us away. It seemed odd, and one day, I met my Mom in the kitchen, who was packing our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch.

“Mom, I think Mrs. Fran is in trouble,” I blurted out.

“Why would you say that, Marcia?” my mom said, passing me a bowl of porridge. I admitted that Jordan and I had been rolling down her lawn during the long weekend and Miss Fran always came out yelling at us. But she never appeared for 3 days.

My Mom looked at us sternly.

“You shouldn’t be rolling down her lawn, without her permission. I saw her yesterday at the bank,” she said.

She handed me a plastic bag filled with fresh baked butter cookies.

“You bring this to her today and ask for her apology and permission to do some work around her house, Marcia.”

My Mom pushed me and Jordan out of the house. As we walked to school, I thought about eating all the cookies but changed my mind, not wanting to get my Mom mad.

When the school bell rang, Jordan and I went to ring Miss Fran’s doorbell but didn’t get a response. We also knocked on the door, too.

Jordan began to eat some of Miss Fran’s cookies and offered some to Terri, the pet barn owl he carried in his pocket.

“Stop, we got to give them to Miss Fran.” I saw a window with a curtain but it was a bit high up. I asked Jordan to go on his hands, while I stood on his back.

“Ouch. Hurry up, “ Jordan complained. His back wobbled a bit as I stood unsteadily on his back. When I peeked in through the windows, I saw Miss Fran’s living room, all filled with nice nickknacks, and Royal Dalton teacups. It was dark inside but it was also light enough for me to see a few things that shocked me.

I saw what looked like Miss Fran’s back facing me, and her hands were tied behind her back. She looked at me with wide-open fearful eyes but she couldn’t say anything because she had a sock in her mouth! Jordan didn’t believe me so I made him look too after I agreed to hold his pet barn owl. We changed position, my hands and feet were on the grounds, and my back lay flat as Jordon peered into the room. He also admitted that he saw the same thing!

Excited, both me and Jordan ran home to tell mother who was busy preparing dinner. She was less than enthusiastic when she found out that we didn’t give the cookies to Miss Fran but ate them all and gave some to Terri on the way home.

“You, too, are going to your room before dinner. No TV and no talking. You were supposed to give Miss Fran the cookies and apologize! And put the barn owl in his cage,” she said, angrily.

“If it were up to me, I would take that barn owl and kill it now instead of tomorrow.” she added.

“No, Mama,” Jordan protested. Jordan loved the owl ever since he found it on the road, after being hit by a car. It could no longer fly, but Jordan and I didn’t have the heart to let it die. So we took it home. That was 6 months ago, and mother has never gotten used to seeing the barn owl in the house. Now, mother was really upset and it appeared she would get rid of the owl to punish us.

“Miss Fran is all tied up and she couldn’t come to the door, “ I explained.

Her chopping of the potatoes became louder and her face became flushed.

“You kids are liars!. I just saw her getting groceries today.” she glared at both of us. “To your rooms! Tomorrow, the barn owl goes, too. You too are souding like my exhusband. If you don't smarten up, both of you will end up in jail, too. ” she warned.

Jordan and I went to our rooms and gave each other anxious looks. After dinner, my mom allowed us to watch an old war movie about prisoners of war who wanted to blow up a bridge. Jordan could barely watch the movie as he was devastated over his mother’s plans to kill the barn owl the next day.

Jordan looked at me, while Terri, the barn owl snoozed on his shoulder, and said, sadly, “What are we going to do about Terri ?”

I shook my head, and said, “There’s not too much we can do. No one believes us. The only way we could do anything is if we….” I stopped mid-sentence and Jordan finished my thoughts, stating, “Yes, we need to go to blow up her house and save Miss Fran so mother believes us!”

The Mission

So now, you know why Jordan and I are lying flat on our faces, getting ready to blow up Miss Fran’s house. How we got the dynamite is another story but I will let Jordan tell it:

“We asked Billy, my 10-year-old neighbor, to take it from his Dad’s garage. His Dad had quite a lot in his garage and didn’t feel he would be missing it. So one day, after school, Billy snuck in the garage when his Dad was at work and hightailed it out with 20 sticks of dynamite.”

Billy decided to help us that day after we explained Miss Fran’s predicament and how our mother accused us of being liars just like her ex-husband. He tied up the dynamite sticks in one neat line and we put it against the bushes of her house. He owed his expertise to watching his Dad at work blowing up old apartment buildings for the city.

“Wait, not yet,” I said, “We should make sure Miss Fran is still there.” I shimmied up to the window still and put my ears to the window. I didn’t see Miss Fran but I heard loud male voices.

I focused my eyes and there was a tall and a short man smoking.

The tall man had a long pointy nose and a ponytail. He looked at the shorter man, who looked Chinese, and said to him, “We are going to do it tonight, Ken. The old lady and the old man have got to go.” The Chinese man nodded, “Yes, they know too much, Al. I shoot them, you bury them.”

The tall man looked agitated. “Why should I do the dirty work? I always have to bury. You do it this time.”

The Chinese man scowled, “ No. It’s my gun and my idea. I am the idea man! You got to listen to me!” The tall man nodded, “Ok, let’s do it. Where’s the gun?” At those words, I fell off Jordan's back and the noise startled the 2 men.

“What was that?” said the Chinese man known as “Ken”. The tall man peered out the window. At that moment, a few starlings flew out of the bushes we were hiding in. “Nothing, just birds,” said Al. The men walked away from the windows, and we ran off near the chicken coop, tired and scared. Bill was waiting there.

“Well,” he demanded.

“We overheard 2 men saying they were going to kill Miss Fran and her husband," I explained.

Billy’s face turned crimson. Then he straightened up and looked serious. We were ready with our walkie-talkies since we had planned our strategy the night before. I was to take section A, the chicken coop, Jordan was to be the lookout, near section B, near the Felder’s farm and Bill was to run up and light the fuse after I gave them permission to go ahead.

“Go!,” I commanded. Everything was in fast motion. Bill ran up and ignited the fuse, but while doing so, he had started a little fire on his sweater and was screaming in shock. Jordan came rushing out from his hiding place and began to hit Bill with his backpack to take out the fire. The neighbor's dog, a plain-looking mountain cur breed, came rushing out and started biting Jordan. It was all a big mess! I panicked and noticed the fuse was not even lit and I felt the bad men would be getting away. I ran out from the chicken coop and scurried to the bush and took a Bic lighter from my jean pocket and lit one of the fuses. It caught on! Hurray, and the dynamite was going to activate soon.

Pop, pop! The dynamite didn’t get off and popped instead. I was upset and I yelled out to the others, “Abort!, Abort!, abort mission!”

Miss Fran’s front door opened and the short, balding Asian man stood there yelling at all of us.

“What are you doing here, brats?” said Ken. He was mad and his eyes bulged in anger.

Suddenly, he began to grab Jordan by his hair and smack his face, while the poor kid cried in terror. I lunged at the man’s knees and hands but his strength and size were too much for me. I fell backward on the ground, covered in dirt and grassy leaves. Just when I thought it was all over for me and the boys, Terri, Jordan's pet barn owl, flew out from the kid’s pocket and began pecking furiously at the Asian man’s eyes, face, and nose.

Al and another man about 22 years old, streamed out of the house and began yelling and making a big commotion. One even fired a shotgun in the air. The barn owl flew over to the 2 men and did a fine job, pecking at their faces and taking out skin and blood. The whole thing must have lasted a full 3 minutes before we all heard the sound of police sirens pulling up.

When 2 cops rushed out of their police cruiser and came out with guns drawn, I knew there was a whole lot of explaining to do.

“Boy, am I glad you showed up,” I stammered.

“What’s this all about, kid,” one officer, a woman, asked gently.

“Miss Fran is being kidnapped by bad people!,” I yelled.

“The kid’s lying. We are all Miss Fran’s kids,” one of the men yelled out.

The front door flew open, and Miss Fran hopped out of the house and she was a sight to behold: her skinny legs were tied, her hands were bandaged behind her, and a gag was pulled over her mouth.

One of the cops radioed for more backup and sat the 3 men on the ground - sullen, and handcuffed.

When my brother and I came home that day, after being quizzed by the local police, we were greeted by my mother’s warm embrace and lots of apologies. Actually, we all knew who the real hero was. If it wasn’t for Terri, the old barn owl that my Mom wanted to put down, we wouldn’t be alive today. My mother gave us her blessings and also declared that Terri was officially part of our family.