They did it for the money, true, but they did it also for family togetherness. A chance to get out with a common purpose every Sunday.
They searched for owl pellets to sell to a broker who sold them to universities. Some days they were lucky and brought home several baggies, each labeled with the place the pellet was found. Some days they found none.
They met a lot of people. Any one who lived in a house with old outbuildings. Everyone was surprised when they first visited. Many were suspicious and slammed the door on their earnest faces. Sometimes they'd stop at garage sales and end up spending a lot more than they made. That's how Alana got her 1962 Barbie and Des his 1912 portable typewriter. Their biggest haul was nearly three hundred pellets they found in an abandoned Grange hall. They weren't going to go in, but Des tried the door and it opened so they thought no harm. Generations of owls must have perched on the roof beams and spat neat packages of fur and feathers and tiny, intricate bones onto the attic floor. Many had disintegrated. Des warned them not to stir up dust.
``We could breathe up disease,'' he said.
It was one November that they found they had competition. The old farm couples and rural recluses who had always welcomed them now turned them away.
``We're saving them for the Christians,'' they said.
``The Christians?''
``Nice kids. Its their fundraiser.'' Their church was the New Beginnings Tabernacle and it covered a city block. Mostly parking lot, but the buildings were expansive. No spire. No alter. No fancy windows.
``We're a church of the people,'' the pastor said. There was a singles get together going on when Des visited. The pastor didn't know about the owl pellets.
``Must be a youth group fundraiser,'' he said.
They ran into the Christian owl pellet collectors later that winter.
``So shouldn't you be in church today?'' Des asked.
``The world is our church,'' the leader said. He was a boy of seventeen with hard black eyes. ``We have an agreement with all the property owners in this area, so don't waste your time around here.''
``You don't own the place!''
``Its illegal to collect them in public parks.'' He snickered, ``I guess you could walk the road edge.'' His friends sniggered too.
``I see you're not wearing gloves,'' Des said.
``Gloves?''
``I guess you put your faith in God.''
``Faith in God why?''
``Faith in God not letting you get a killer disease off these things.''
``There's no disease!''
``You're wrong there. You could die. You need gloves. And a mask. Even then you can't be sure. My family and me, we all had shots. We're immune - ''
The kid with the hard black eyes said ``God is my immunity.''
``Well that's nice,'' said Des.
Back in the car his wife said ``What a liar!'' Des winked at the kids in the rear view mirror.
The next Sunday they stopped at Albertsons and saw the black eyed kid selling candy in decorated bags out in the parking lot.