The Capture

yeep on me," Gylfie hissed.

    "How can I go yeep? I don't even know how to fly yet."

    Going yeep, as every owl and bird knew, was a term for when one's wings seemed to lock, when a bird lost its instincts and could no longer fly and would suddenly plummet to the ground.

    As loathsome as the work was, it was pretty easy. However, Soren could not help but wonder with each Barn Owl egg he found where it had come from in Tyto. Did his parents know this owl egg's parents?
    Luckily, the Barn Owl egg station and the Elf Owl station were not that far apart. So as Soren and Gylfie arrived at their respective stations, rolling their eggs, they would exchange a word or two. "I haven't seen 12-8, Hortense," Soren said.

    "She's not here. She's in the hatchery. That's where the broodies are -- they sit on the eggs. We've got to get in there."

    "How do you plan to do that?" Soren asked.

    "I don't know. I'll think of something," Gylfie said.

    Just before their shift ended, Gylfie thought of something.

    "You!"

    "Me what?" Soren asked.

    "You're a perfect broody."

    "What? Me a broody? Have you gone yoicks? I'm a male owl. Male owls don't sit nests."

    "They do occasionally -- in very cold climates sometimes."

    "Well, this isn't an especially cold climate. Why not you?

    "They don't need an Elf Owl now but they do need a Barn Owl. I heard them talking and, by the way, they have plenty of male owls up there sitting on nests."

    "What do you mean by 'up there'? Up where?"

    "Up there, Soren. I think it's higher than the library....

    I think its very close to the sky. I think ..." Gylfie paused for dramatic effect. "We could fly from up there." Soren felt his gizzard give a lurch. "I'll go\" "Good fella!" Gylfie gave Soren a friendly cufÂŁ
    although she was so short she could hardly reach his wing. But it seemed like a really male owl thing to do and she wanted to assure Soren that, although he was going to be a broody, he was still one tough little owl. 'And I myself plan on getting promoted to moss tender."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

    The Hatchery

    It was Soren's second night on the job. He actually worked a shift with three other Barn Owls, one of whom was male. When it was a night shift, he did not have to report to the glaucidium. It wasn't quite as humiliating as he had thought. There certainly was a constant stream of food. Broodies were well tended. Someone was always coming by, clucking, "How about a nice fat worm, just flown in from Tyto, a bit of snake, a vole, red squirrel." No, the eating was definitely good in the hatchery. Gylfie did manage to get herself in as a moss tender. And if their shifts coincided, there was plenty of time to talk, as Gylfie made extra trips to tuck moss and bits of fluff into Soren's nest. Soren had four eggs in his nest, which seemed a tad crammed. He thought mostly there were two or three eggs to a Barn Owl's nest. But then again, what did he know? Just as he was beginning to think on this, the second night, that it wasn't so bad, the Barn Owl on the nest
    next to him spoke in that empty moon-blinked voice, "Crack alert! Crack alert. Egg tooth visible."

    Two Barred Owls came hustling over. Soren felt his gizzard twinge with excitement. He leaned out of his nest to take a peek. The egg was giving those familiar shudders -- just like Eglantine's egg had, which now seemed so long ago. But no one seemed at all excited. No one was gasping with joy, saying, "It's coming! It's coming!"

    The egg was rocking now. Soren could see the little hole and the egg tooth, pale and glistening, poking out.

    "All right," said the first Barred Owl in a cool voice. "Enough with that egg tooth. Lets crack it." And with that, the two Barred Owls gave solid thwacks with their talons. The egg split. Then one of the Barred Owls hooked the slimy white blob with its talon and firmly pulled it out while the other one turned the shell up. "Bottoms up!" the owl said crisply, and she dumped out the hatchling.

    Soren was so shocked he could barely breathe. No one exclaimed "It's a girl!" No one said "adorable" or
    "enchanting." No one said anything except "Number 401-2."

    The other Barred Owl nodded in response. "So we're into the four hundred sequence with the Barn Owls, now."

    "Yes, what an accomplishment," sighed the one who had numbered this little owlet. Soren felt a rage, Accomplishment! This was the most horrid, despicable thing he had ever witnessed. A coldness that began in his gizzard seemed to creep through