Saturday, March 24, 2012
I know it's broad daylight, but...
I could write a book about the barred owl goings on around here. I used to hear a loud clucking sound, and inevitably I would see an owl soon after. I finally learned that he was sharpening his beak (I hope this is true; someone told me that).
One time, I saw a pair sitting on a limb with their heads together, like lovebirds - way before the day you had a convenient camera on your phone to seize the moment.
Another time, a couple of skinny young ones had flown from the hollow, across the driveway in front of me to a high limb on the other side. I watched as their new downy feathers drifted down.
Sometimes in the mornings, I'd walk out and feel something watching me. Sure enough, there he (she?) was, sitting on the crook of a young hickory tree, close enough for me to see every marking. He just looked at me, then turned his head 180 degrees to check on the noise behind him.
My late sweet dog Deion and I were walking up the driveway around twilight when I saw the owl spread his wings and dive bomb my beloved dog. No harm done, but it did scare me.
I love listening to their calls to each other in the evenings. The other night, I heard one further down in the woods, toward the river. The last two years, they haven't been hanging around so much. I hope they'll be back.
More wildlife on later posts: No pictures of the coyotes, though. They're too quick.