Birds

Okay, so we know this book is called Marked by Fire, but sometimes we think of it as Marked by Birds because birds are all up in this book, marking (see what we did there?) significant moments. Heck, birds are even in the first paragraph:

On a hill rise to the left of the cotton field, a hound dog howled woefully under a blackjack tree, his scruffy tail sticking out stiffly behind him. A string of chee-chee birds perched on the tree branches, the unborn song dying in their throats. (1.1)

Since this paragraph sets the stage for the entire book, let's take a moment to dig into chee-chee birds, shall we? Chee-chee birds are basically just small, local birds —in other words, it's a generic term instead of a specific breed.

Insofar as birds sing, though, and singing is incredibly important to Abyssinia's character (be sure to check out our thoughts on her voice elsewhere in this section), by opening the book with a sort of Every Bird, Abyssinia is subtly set up as a sort of Every Girl—one representing the many. This is key to the book's work, so swing by Abby's page in the "Characters" section to read up on it. For now, what matters is that the birds are representative of our leading lady.

This connection is shored up when Abby sings "I'll Fly Away" in church, bringing the house down (8.6), and it's made heart-breakingly clear when Abby is raped and "hear[s] the raw cry of birds" (9.29). In these instances, we see Abby at both her strongest and her weakest, both of which are made clear through bird imagery.

Much later, when Abby has been studying and working with Mother Barker for a while, her readiness to work on her own without Mother Barker's help is illustrated through a dream:

That night, Abby dreamed of a soft, peaceful place where healing sights and healing sounds dwelled. […] Suddenly an enchanted candle lit the night, and she saw rainbows through canyons, birds flitting through the branches of trees towering on the face of the moon. […] The child's voice lifted […] The sound drifted through a distant drumming, through a flurry of flutes, through the soft, sparrowed notes of an unseen harp." (24.28-30)

If you've read up on Abby's voice already, then you know singing is a major source of power for her—so when she dreams of "sparrowed notes," we know something pretty awesome is about to happen. Sure enough, Mother Barker dies before long, helping Abby complete the process of healing (she guides Abby back to singing in her funeral) and become her whole, powerful self.

Bad News Bears, er, Birds

Abby doesn't have a monopoly on birds, however, and there's one particular bird worth discussing in a bit of detail (though for fun, you might try to unpack the symbolism behind the snowbirds that show up after Mother Barker dies (26.26)). We're talking about the pesky owl that shows up right before Lily Norene dies:

Abby suddenly shivered as she heard a hoot owl screech in the cold evening. "Lily, don't get chilled," she called. (28.10)

Lily's headed to the basement to get some fruit preserves for her bread. Abby's been taking care of her as she heals, helping out with her kids and enabling Lily to get some much-needed rest. In the basement, though, Lily doesn't get chilled—she has a stroke. And from there, it's only a matter of days until she dies. Those "shivers" Abby feels right before Lily's stroke aren't just foreshadowing that something bad's about to happen, they're another example of women's intuition at work. (Want to read more about women's intuition? Swing by Mother Barker's "Character" page—her intuition game is on point.)

After Lily Norene dies (R.I.P.), Abby stays in her house with her daughters to watch over them until their grandparents can take them in. And guess who returns? The owl that hooted right before Lily died:

"Hoot, hoot," she heard as she snuggled down between the covers.

Abby wondered about the persistent owl that had been hooting outside Lily's door every night since her death. When the owl's cries almost wrapped themselves around her, she left the couch to see if she could catch a glimpse of this constant night caller.

[…] She thought she heard the quick-quick sound of the greyhound's feet on the road after the rabbit in syncopation with the hoot-hoot of the owl.

"Quick-quick."

"Hoot-hoot."

"Quick."

"Hoot."

She turned the porch light on and saw a flurried furtive movement away from the light. She knew hungry dogs must eat, yet she hoped the rabbit would get away. She would hate to be a rabbit chased across the chilly maze of the earth with the hooting cries of a night owl at her back." (29.3-11)

The owl has been so "persistent" that Abby decides to investigate. She knows it can't be hanging around for no reason, and ties its arrival to Lily Norene's untimely demise. As she looks for the bird, what emerges is a predator-prey situation. While at first, it seems like the predator is death (as represented by the owl) with Lily Norene as the prey, when Abby falls asleep, she dreams of the owl. The dream is filled with fire (29.14), and when Abby awakens, Trembling Sally is setting the house aflame. Abby barely manages to escape with Lily Norene's daughters, while Sally is consumed by the flames.

The owl may initially come to announce Lily Norene's death, but it sticks around to announce Trembling Sally's. Kind of makes those hoot hoots in the night sound a little less peaceful, doesn't it?