An Owl Called Star

by Helen Peters

  Tom’s eyes opened wide. “There was a window in the barn just above where we found him.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Jasmine. “So maybe Star flew into it.”

  “If he was flying as fast as that other owl we saw,” said Tom, “he must have really hurt himself.”

  “And if he hasn’t eaten recently, that might mean he was lying on the ground for ages,” said Jasmine.

  “It’s very lucky that you spotted him,” said Mum. “If we’re going to save his life, we need to work quickly.”

  “We’ll check to see if Star has broken any bones,” said Mum, “and then we’ll rehydrate him. If you take your hand away there, Jasmine, I’ll examine his wings.”

  She took hold of Star’s wing and spread the feathers out like a fan.

  “Wow, his wings are huge,” said Jasmine.

  “Their wingspan is nearly a metre,” said Nadia, as she felt the bones at the top of the wing. “That’s another thing that helps them fly so quietly.”

  “His legs are really long,” said Tom. “I always thought owls had short legs.”

  “Not barn owls,” said Nadia, as she checked Star’s other wing. “It’s one of the ways they’ve adapted to be such good hunters. They mainly eat field voles, you see, which live in rough grass, so the owls need those legs to land in the grass and grab their prey.”

  Jasmine looked at Star’s sharp pointed talons and shuddered. “Poor voles.”

  “If you let go of one leg,” said Nadia, “I’ll check it over. Keep hold of the other one.”

  She felt Star’s leg bones carefully.

  “They both feel good,” she said, “and the feet look fine, too, so I don’t think there’s anything wrong with them.”

  “So what do we do next?” asked Jasmine.

  “Tom, could you grab my laptop from my study, please?” said Mum. “We need to find out what weight he should be. And bring a pad and pen, then you can note everything down.”

  “It must be a bad sign that he’s had his eyes closed all this time,” said Jasmine, as Tom went to fetch everything.

  “Not necessarily,” said Mum. “Wild barn owls often close their eyes as a reaction to shock.”

  Jasmine stroked the owl’s feathers. “They’re so soft.”

  “That’s another thing that helps them fly so quietly,” said Mum. She fetched the digital scales from the kitchen and took an empty shoebox from a cupboard. Tom appeared with the laptop.

  “Thank you,” said Mum. “Could you look at the Barn Owl Trust website and find out what weight he should be? While you’re doing that, I’ll check his head area.”

  She gently opened Star’s left eye. It was very dark brown, almost black.

  “That looks great,” she said. “Very bright and healthy.”

  She opened the other eye.

  “All good there, too. OK, let’s look inside his beak.”

  She took hold of the upper beak and gently pulled it open.

  “It’s lovely and pink inside his mouth. That all looks very healthy. And his nostrils are clear.”

  “Where are his nostrils?” asked Jasmine.

  Mum pointed to the top of the beak. “Those little holes there, see? I’m going to check his ears, too. If he’s had a blow to the head, there might be some bleeding.”

  Star’s ears didn’t stick out like human ears. Mum had to part the feathers at the side of his head to reveal a little opening.

  “See how his left and right ears are at slightly different heights? That means he can tell more accurately where a sound is coming from.”

  “That’s so clever,” said Jasmine.

  “Barn owls have the best hearing of any animal ever tested,” said Mum, as she examined the other ear. “Much better than ours. And his ears are both fine, so that’s good news.”

  “I’ve found the weight chart,” said Tom.

  “Great,” said Mum. She weighed the empty shoebox on the scales, then gently placed Star in the box. She told Tom the two weights and he did a quick calculation.

  “Star weighs two hundred and thirty grams,” he said.

  “Is that good?” asked Jasmine.

  Tom looked at the chart.

  “Oh, no.”

  “What?” asked Jasmine, alarmed.

  “Two hundred and thirty grams is starvation weight.”

  “Right,” said Nadia. “We need to get liquid into him straightaway, or he won’t survive much longer. We’ll wrap him up to keep him still while we feed him. Tom, can you fetch the kettle? I boiled it a while ago, so it should be just about the right temperature.”

  Nadia spread out an old towel on the work surface. Jasmine carefully laid Star on it and Nadia wrapped him up. Then she smiled at Tom, who had returned with the kettle.

  “Would you like to fetch a chair and hold him while I feed him?” she asked. “He’s wrapped securely so he can’t do you any damage.”

  Tom smiled excitedly. “Sure.”

  “And Jasmine,” said Mum, “can you mix one and a half teaspoons of glucose powder into a cup of warm water, please. I need to go to the car for a syringe and some tubing.”

  When she came back, Tom was sitting down, holding Star upright on his lap.

  “OK,” said Nadia. “You need to hold his neck very straight.”

  She drew up three millilitres of the glucose mixture into the syringe. Then she opened Star’s beak, lifted his head slightly and lowered the tube through the corner of his mouth. She pushed the syringe plunger right down.

  “There we are. We’ll give him the same again in a few hours’ time. He needs about ten mils a day.”

  “What about food?” asked Jasmine.

  “We can’t feed him yet,” said Nadia. “He won’t be able to swallow while he’s dazed. We’ll just have to hope he comes out of his daze soon.”

  The way she said it made Jasmine glance at her in alarm.

  “Do you mean … he might not come out of it?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” said Nadia. “We’ll just have to hope.”

  The door from the kitchen opened and Manu appeared.

  “When will the owl wake up?” he asked.

  “Soon, hopefully,” said Jasmine. “But you’re not allowed anywhere near him, OK?”

  “That’s not fair. I’d be great with him.”

  “Huh,” said Jasmine, who still hadn’t forgiven her brother for various other incidents involving animals she’d rescued. “Great like you were with Pebble? And the kittens?”

  “That was different,” said Manu. “I can train this owl. I’d be a really good owl trainer.”

  “Wild owls can’t be trained,” said Tom. “It says on the website.”

  “What about the ones in the Harry Potter films?”

  “They must have been bred in captivity,” said Nadia.

  “I bet it’s really easy to train them,” said Manu. “I’m going to train this one to carry letters for me, like Harry’s.”

  “Let’s put him in a box where he can rest,” said Mum. “Can you fetch the pet carrier, Jasmine?”

  Jasmine fetched it and laid a folded towel inside it. Nadia put on a pair of leather gloves, unwrapped Star and laid him on his side in the carrier. Jasmine covered the wire mesh doors with towels so that Star would feel calm in the dark.

  “Make sure it’s closed properly,” Mum said. “He could start moving at any time.”

  “Should we put some food and drink in with him?” asked Jasmine.

  “No, there’s no point. Even if he comes out of the daze, he won’t eat or drink by himself yet.”

  “Can he go in my room? I’ll be really quiet.”

  “All right,” said Mum. “As long as you keep the cats out.”

  “Yay!” said Jasmine. Then she looked at Nadia suspiciously. “What happens when he wakes up? You won’t make us send him to a wildlife rehabilitator, will you?”

  Mum smiled. “Let’s see how we go, shall we?”

  Tom’s mum, Mel, came to collect him soon af
ter that.

  “Can we have a sleepover here tomorrow night?” asked Jasmine. “Please, Mum? Then Tom can help feed Star.”

  “That’s fine by me, if it’s OK with Mel,” said Nadia.

  “Are you sure?” said Mel.

  “Honestly, it’s no problem,” said Nadia. “It’s not often he’ll get to spend time close up with a barn owl.”

  “Well, that’s very kind,” said Mel.

  “Promise you’ll phone me if Star wakes up tonight,” Tom said.

  “I will,” said Jasmine.

  She spent the evening in her bedroom, making Halloween decorations for the barn. She cut out bat shapes from black paper and threaded them on strings. She sneaked up to the attic and rummaged in the boxes of Christmas decorations until she found the battery-operated fairy lights, which she took to her room and hid in her chest of drawers. She made a list of all the people in their class they could invite to the party, people who could be trusted to keep it a secret.

  Every so often, she peeped into Star’s box. But Star was still lying on his side with his eyes closed.

  Would they still be able to have the party if Star hadn’t recovered?

  But it would only be for a few hours, and Mum would be around to look after him.

  At eight o’clock, Jasmine and Nadia fed him again.

  “I’ll give him another three mils at eleven,” said Nadia, “and then we’ll see how he is in the morning.”

  Jasmine knew Mum would say no if she asked to stay up for the eleven o’clock feed. So she decided not to ask. She made the party invitations, and then she set her alarm for a quarter to eleven. When it woke her, she waited in bed until Mum came in. Then she turned over, yawned, opened her eyes and sat up.

  “Go back to sleep, Jasmine,” Mum whispered. “I was trying not to wake you. You’ve got school in the morning.”

  “I’ll just help you feed him,” said Jasmine, “since I’m awake now. I’ll go straight back to sleep afterwards, I promise.”

  So she held Star, wrapped in a towel, and kept his neck very straight while Mum tube-fed him. Then she laid him back down in the pet carrier.

  “Sleep well, Star,” she whispered. “See you in the morning.”

  Star didn’t move.

  Jasmine tried to go to sleep, but worries started to creep into her mind. What if Star was still unconscious tomorrow? How long could he survive on nothing but glucose water? What if she looked in the box in the morning and he was –

  No. She had to stay positive. Star was just dazed, and Mum was a really good vet. Star would be fine.

  Jasmine was woken by a strange scuffling sound. For a few seconds she lay in bed, confused. Then her eyes flew wide open.

  Star!

  She scrambled out of bed, crouched on the carpet next to the pet carrier and gently lifted the towel.

  Star was standing up! As Jasmine lifted the towel, he gazed at her with dark intelligent eyes.

  “Star, you’re awake! And you’ve got such beautiful eyes!”

  The little owl backed into the corner of the box.

  “Poor thing. You’re frightened, aren’t you? Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m so happy you’re getting better.”

  Jasmine gently lowered the towel again and looked at her alarm clock. Half past six. Mum would probably be awake.

  Mum wasn’t awake, and she wasn’t that pleased to be woken, either. But when Jasmine told her the good news about Star, she became a bit more cheerful.

  “Take him downstairs and get his food ready,” she said. “And make me a cup of tea, would you? I’ll be down in a minute.”

  Jasmine carried Star’s box carefully down to the scullery. By the time Mum appeared, she had made the tea and mixed the glucose solution.

  “We need to be really careful how we handle him now,” Mum said. “He might be defensive. I need to pick him up from behind, so as not to scare him. Can you lay that towel out, so we can wrap him up?”

  While Jasmine did that, Mum took the other towel off the top of the pet carrier. Star was still standing in the corner with his eyes open.

  “Oh, Jasmine,” said Mum. “He really is beautiful, isn’t he?”

  Jasmine looked at the owl’s amazing shiny black eyes in his extraordinary heart-shaped face. He looked wise and dignified and peaceful.

  “He’s so beautiful,” she said. “Aren’t you, Star?”

  Mum opened the door behind Star, placed her gloved hands around his body and lifted him out. She wrapped him in the towel and handed him to Jasmine to hold while she tube-fed him.

  “Now he’s awake, should we give him proper food, too?” asked Jasmine.

  “Definitely,” said Mum, as she pushed the plunger down.

  “Dog food?”

  “No. Owls need raw meat. Chicken or beef. There’s a pack of mince in the fridge. Scoop some into a saucer – about the amount it would take to fill a matchbox.”

  Jasmine handed Star to Nadia while she fetched the mince.

  “Will he peck it up?” she asked.

  “No, we’ll have to feed him. If you hold his beak open, I’ll put the food in.”

  Jasmine sat down and held Star between her knees. She took the upper part of his beak and gingerly opened it. Star closed his eyes.

  “That’s right,” said Nadia. “You can open it a bit wider.”

  She picked up a bit of mince about the size of her thumbnail and pushed it into the back of Star’s mouth.

  “Close his mouth now,” she said, “and wait for him to swallow.”

  Jasmine let go of Star’s beak. He opened and closed it a few times, moving his head backwards and forwards.

  “Great,” said Nadia. “He’s swallowed it. We’ll wait a few seconds for it to go down and then we can give him some more.”

  “When will he need his next feed?” asked Jasmine.

  “Lunchtime,” said Mum. “He needs feeding three times a day.”

  “So Dad will have to do it,” said Jasmine. “Unless I have the day off school.”

  Mum smiled. “Nice try. But no. You’d better ask Dad very nicely. And I’ll give him a crash course in owl-feeding.”

  Star kept his eyes closed while they fed him the rest of the mince, a tiny bit at a time.

  “He seems very calm, doesn’t he?” said Jasmine.

  “He’s still a bit dazed,” said Mum. “But hopefully he’ll be ready to go back into the wild by Sunday.”

  Sunday. Halloween.

  “But it’s Friday today,” said Jasmine. “Can’t we keep him a bit longer?”

  Mum raised her eyebrows. “I’m not sure you’d enjoy feeding him so much after three days.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, owls eat every part of their prey. Meat alone won’t give him the fibre he needs. So after three days you’d have to feed him chopped-up mice or chicks.”

  Jasmine pulled a face. “Oh. That’s a bit gross.”

  “Well, Sky should be fully recovered in a day or two, and then we can release him into the wild.”

  And, for once, Jasmine didn’t argue with her mother.

  Jasmine took the Halloween party invitations to school, hidden inside a book about Ancient Egypt, which was their topic at the moment. On the outside of each envelope was written:

  Jasmine spent most of the morning watching the fifteen people on the invitation list, waiting for them to be alone so she could slip them each an envelope without anyone else noticing.

  By lunchtime, the only person who hadn’t had their invitation was Aisha. When Jasmine and Tom finished eating, they went out to the playground to look for her. A big group of boys was playing football at the far end, and everyone else was in smaller groups.

  “There she is, look,” said Tom.

  Aisha was talking to Harry, over in the corner by the fence.

  “Ask Harry to go and play football with you,” said Jasmine. “Then I can give Aisha the invitation.”

  “I can’t do that,” said Tom.


  “Why not?”

  “He’d think it was weird.”

  “What’s weird about playing football?”

  “You don’t ask people to play. People just join in if they want to.”

  “Well, think of something else, then.”

  As they drew closer, it became obvious that Aisha and Harry were having an argument.

  “But you promised!” Aisha said.

  Harry flung his hands out. “I can’t help it, can I? It’s not my fault if my parents decide things at the last minute.”

  “But we’re going away straight after school today. What am I supposed to do with her?”

  “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask someone else. Look, ask Tom.”

  “Ask me what?” said Tom.

  Aisha gave Harry an exasperated look. “He promised he’d look after my hamster until Monday, and now he says he’s going away too so he can’t.” She looked hopefully at Tom. “Would you like a hamster for the weekend?”

  “Sorry,” said Tom. “My mum can’t stand rodents. She’s only just got used to the guinea pigs, and she only allows them because they live in the garden.”

  “I’ll look after your hamster,” said Jasmine.

  Aisha stared at her. “Will you really?”

  “Sure,” said Jasmine. “I love hamsters. And me and Tom are going to have a boarding kennels when we grow up, to pay for our animal rescue centre, so we need experience of looking after all kinds of animals.”

  An image of Star came into her mind, and she suddenly had a worrying thought. A hamster would be food for an owl, wouldn’t it?

  But Star was in a cage, and the hamster would be in a cage too, so it wouldn’t be a problem.

  “That would be amazing,” said Aisha. “Thanks so much, Jasmine. She’s called Biscuit and she’s so cute. Won’t your parents mind, though?”

  “Course not. They love animals,” said Jasmine, sounding more certain than she really was. “Can you bring her round before five o’clock?”

  It would be better if Biscuit arrived while Mum and Dad were out at work, Jasmine thought. She didn’t want to ask their permission and risk them saying no. They might say she had enough animals to look after at the moment.