The Capture

look down and spot Digger trudging through the desert sand.
    Occasionally, Digger would lift into flight but always skimmed low, combing the desert for any burrow that might shelter his parents. Mostly, however, he would run, his long, nearly featherless legs striking out across the sand, his short stubby tail lifted to catch any wind from behind that would give a boost to his speed. Or if there was a head wind, as now, he would lean into it, tucking his wings close to his body, and ram ahead.

    "That fool owl has the strongest legs I've ever seen," Twilight muttered as the first slice of the moon rose in the sky.

    "Strongest legs and the stubbornest head," Gylfie added.

    But deep within Soren there was a flicker of bright admiration for this odd owl. One had to marvel at Digger's determination. Just as Soren was pondering this, he heard something. He cocked his head one way, then the other.

    As in all Barn Owls, Soren's ear openings on either side of his face were not evenly placed -- the left one being higher than the right. His uneven set of ears actually helped him to capture sound better. And now he instinctively worked certain muscles in his facial disk to expand its surface and help guide the sounds to his ear. The noise was coming from his windward side, his right ear, because it was that ear that was picking it up before his left ear. Now the sound was arriving almost at the same time in both ears, perhaps with one-millionth of a second difference.

    "Triangulating, are you?" Twilight asked.

    "What?" Soren said.

    "Fancy word for what you Barn Owls do best. Figure out exactly where a sound is coming from.
    Something tasty down there? I could use a bite."

    "Well, there's something below but it's not on the ground. It's off to windward. You can line it up with that bright star on my wing tip."

    Then, suddenly, Soren and Gylfie saw them. "Great Glaux, it's Jatt and Jutt!" Soren exclaimed.

    "Look!" said Gylfie. "They're closing in on Digger. I hope there's a burrow nearby."

    "47-2 is with them," Soren said. "Look at that stupid owl. Its huge now."

    "It's a Screech Owl," whispered Twilight. It certainly was, and 47-2 now resembled that other terrible Screech Owl -- Spoorn.

    "They must have let her grow flight feathers and taught her to fly," Gylfie said weakly.

    "Sheer off to downwind," Twilight ordered. "We don't want them to hear us."

    "Right, but hush!" said Soren. "I'm picking up something. Let me listen."

    The words that Soren picked up from the three owls that flew below them were chilling, even though the conversation broke up on the rising wind currents.

    "47-2, once you taste a Burrowing Owl -- well... nothing ... like it... run fast... no burrows here ... no place
    ... hide..."

    "We've got to do something," Soren said.

    "The three of them against the two and a half of us." Twilight sighed as he turned his head toward Gylfie.

    "I can be a diversion," said Gylfie quickly. And giving the other two owls no time to reply, she plunged into a quick downward spiral.

    "What's she doing?" Soren asked. Gylfie was already on the ground and she was doing the best imitation imaginable of a burrowing owl, kicking out her feet as she tried to run across the desert sand.

    "Look, it's working!" cried Twilight. And sure enough, 47-2 was turning toward Gylfie.

    "Charge!" roared Twilight.

    "Hang on Mrs. Rhiann.," Soren gasped.

    Jatt and Jutt were just lighting down on the sand when Twilight and Soren struck. Soren, his feet forward, spread his talons and thrust his legs straight out. He shut his eyes but felt his talons sink into the feathers between Jatt's ear tufts and then one talon hit something not like feathers at all. It was flesh, then bone. A terrible cry ripped through the night. But now Soren was tumbling in the sand. Ther e was a whirlwind of feathers and dust. Some

    thing slithered nearby. He hoped it was Mrs. Rhiann. finding herself a safe hole.

    Then there was a deep hoot that reverberated across the vastness of the desert. It was Twilight beginning his battle cry. Jatt and Jutt, however, had their own fierce thrum that seemed to shake Soren to his gizzard. Twilight was hooting as only Twilight could.

    You ugly rat-faced birds.

    You call yourself a bird?

    You call yourself an owl?

    You ain't no decent kind of fowl!

    They call you Jatt?

    They call you Jutt?

    I'm gonna toss you in a rut!

    Then I'm gonna punch you in the gut!

    Then you're gonna wind up on your butt!

    Thinkyou're