Owl Be Seeing You

I am lucky enough to live on a piece of property that lies nearly adjacent to a 700-plus acre county park.  If I so choose--and I do fairly often--I can walk through the woods on my property straight through to the park. Takes about five minutes, at most.

What this means is that the inhabitants of this forest oasis will sometimes visit, or get close enough for me to connect with--and it's always special when that happens.

An Owl Flies Overhead
One night, in the fall of 2004, a few weeks after we moved into our house, my family gathered on our deck to witness a lunar eclipse. As we were out there in the cold, looking skyward, the silent silhouette of an owl flew just above us. It was an awesome moment, solidifying my love for this place, nature lover that I am.

We've seen fox and coyotes, deer and flying squirrels. We've seen evidence of raccoons, and had close--and smelly!--encounters with skunks. Birds of all kinds come to our feeders: woodpeckers, finches, sparrows, cardinals and hummingbirds. And of course, the hawks come to feed in turn on the birds.

Whoos in the Distance
But we've never seen owls. Over the years, every once in a while, we hear them.  We've heard the eerie and indescribable calls of screech owls; those are the prototypical sounds encountered in the movies when the characters are lost and alone in dark scary forests. You can listen to an example or two on the Cornell Ornithology Lab's website; hearing them in person on a dark and lonely night has actually given me goosebumps.

More often, however, on a cool starry night, we'll be treated to the calls and responses of Great Horned Owls. When I hear them, I am reminded of one of my favorite children's books, Owl Moon by Jane Yolen. The story, which reads more like a poem, is about a father taking his young daughter out owling on a cold winter night. He calls out like an owl, and is rewarded with a response; eventually, they see the owl himself. I read this book to my kids so many times, I could just about recite it by heart--and I've given it as gifts to many a child because I love the story so.

And when I hear the sound of Great Horned Owls in my woods, I call out to them, like the father in the book. And nearly always, they respond. Call and response. Call and response. Sometimes my son will join me and he'll call out, too.

Am I am thrilled every single time. I feel like I've been given a very special gift--the ability to connect with another creature, even if all I'm doing is repeating its call.

But I've never seen one of these awesome creatures. I know they're there. I've heard them. I've communicated with them. But not a single sighting.

Until last week.

The Forest Calls to Me
On any given day, I'm likely to take a quick walk through our woods--a five or ten minute walk around our path, camera in hand. Sometimes I'm inspired by the lighting, or by a bird call, or a heard of deer. Sometimes I just need to plug in; the forest rejuvenates me in ways nothing else can.

Last Sunday, a wren was calling and I followed it with my camera and telephoto lens, hoping to get a decent picture of the sweet tiny bird in a more natural setting than feasting at my feeders.

Wren, calling me to follow it into the woods.

At first, I couldn't find the wren, and as I was looking, a large bird-shaped shadow passed over the snow-covered ground. I looked up in time to see a sizable creature flying through the trees. When it landed on a branch a few hundred yards from where I stood, I took that as an invitation to a portrait session, and followed, camera in hand.

Within a minute or so, another large bird flew overhead, settling near the first. I couldn't tell what they were: hawks? vultures? I stared into the tangled limbs high above and ahead of me, and soon made out the silhouette of a bird.

I started snapping pictures, trying to focus between the branches.

There he is, but what is he?

I'd take a few pictures, walk a couple dozen steps forward, snap a few more.

Still can't figure out who it is, the the short tail is a hint.

I walked to the right, in a different direction, hoping to find a better perspective.

Too many branches in the way. But look at those ear tufts.

Owl Take You For A Hike
When I had a clear view, I began to suspect I was looking at owls--specifically Great Horned. This was a huge thrill for me, so I just kept taking pictures. I tried to get closer, but first one, then the other would fly away--not too far, though. I was wondering if there was a nest nearby, but didn't see one. But it did seem to me that the birds were very deliberate in their flights.

They led, I followed.

This silent chase lasted about twenty minutes. I didn't feel the cold. It was me, my camera and the birds; was aware of very little else as I watched them fly and tried to follow them with the camera, clicking away.

And then they were too far for me to follow, and I walked back to the house, hoping that when I downloaded my shots, they would show me my owls.

I walked into the house a bit breathless, stopping long enough to remove coat, hat, gloves in a flurry. I removed the disk, from my camera, inserted it into my MacBook, and waited.

I clicked Download New Photos, and the magic began. Many of the pictures were blurry, with perfectly focused branches and smudgy suggestions of owls behind.

Some were too far away.

You can see the ear tufts quite clearly here.

And in some, my subject wasn't cooperating; owls can rotate their heads as much as 270 degrees, so it's easy enough for one to remain motionless in body, but turn away in an slow arrogant huff.

Looking toward me.

Turning away

And facing the opposite direction,

This is better; but there are way too many branches in the way.

The pictures I took of the birds in flight were, for the most part, blurry sweeps of somewhat recognizable forest. Or a bit of a wing barely in the frame.

The back half of an owl.

But when all was said and downloaded, and when I zoomed in on a few of the better shots, I wound up with two pictures I love, each featuring a gorgeous, recognizable Great Horned Owl.

Here's lookin' at you, human.

And my favorite...pure serendipity. I have no idea how I managed to capture this phenomenal creature in full flight. 

Simply. Gorgeous.

I love this place. And I love the gifts nature gives me.

It's Snow Time!

Winter has only just begun, yet we've had two snowstorms already. Like most dogs, my three love the snow. I don't know what it is about the cold flaky stuff that makes Lilah, Jasper and Tucker, well, flaky.

Dogs who normally can't stand getting wet (that's you, Jasper and Tucker) romp around in the snow like it's the Best Thing Ever. A Gift From the Sky. And you can Eat It, too! Just an inch of white on the ground and my dogs turn into goofy puppies.

And I love it. I turn in to a kid as well, watching my four-legged friends romp and jump and pounce and bound. Sometimes I just run around in the snow with them. And then we all come piling back in the warm house, happy and tired--and wet.

Eventually, it all melts. And we're back to plain hard frozen ground--or worse yet, nasty thick mud that sticks to dog paws like Velcro. Until the next snow storm blankets our yard and we get to go out and do it again.

The first storm of the season came in the fall--November 7. This year, The Weather Channel started naming winter storms, and this one was christened Athena.  I'm sure our Athena felt she finally got her due.

"Wait! What? A snowstorm named after me? Of course. As it should be."

Tucker, Lilah and Jasper run through the snow as the storm just gets started.

Too much snow on your back and you have to Floppity it off.

By nighttime, we had more than six inches. The heavy wet snow covered everything with a soft white blanket, including our patio.

And the snow kept falling...

The next morning, a walk through the woods revealed nature's beauty at every turn. The heavy snow bent branches and trees already stressed from Hurricane Sandy's wrath a little over a week before, creating a new landscape--and in some cases breaking limbs that couldn't bear the weight.

Morning sun shines through the trees after Snowstorm Athena.

The wind blew snow against one side of the trees, streaking them with white.

The jagged jumble of fallen limbs was softened by the covering of snow.

I wasn't the only one walking in the woods after the storm. A deer had come through earlier.

Heading back toward the gate and my home. Leaves were still on some of the trees.

The front yard offered up its own beauty.

And in the back yard, the dogs explored their territory..

The second storm, Snowstorm Freyr, came just a few days ago. It was colder, and the snow was dryer. Only three inches fell, but that was enough for doggy fun and games.

With snow still falling, the dogs are ready to romp.

Ooh! A sniff under the snow.  All Noses report to duty.

Once the dogs get started, they play in all combinations.

Three dogs chasing each other. (That's Jasper's head in the corner.)

Jasper and Lilah

Tucker and Lilah

Jasper and Tucker

Tucker and his Ball. Doesn't matter how frozen or snow covered it is, we eventually have to Play Ball.

There are a few quiet moments, usually with one dog sitting it out while two others run around. It's at those moments that I like to try and capture a few Snow Portraits.

Lilah, with a snowy snout. I love how the snow decorates her fur like fine sugar.

Jasper, always looking regal, even as his fur is coated with snow.

Tucker, showing off his Snow Beard, acquired from digging in drifts.

And every once in a while, I capture something that just makes me smile. In the picture below, it wasn't until after I enlarged it on my laptop that I saw Tucker reflected in Jasper's eye. Cool.

Through a dog's eye's: Tucker reflected in Jasper's eye.

All of our cats are indoor kitties, though it doesn't stop them from watching us and wishing they could join in the fun. Though I would hazard a guess that one step into cold wet snow would have them turning around in a whisker's instant and heading back into a warm dry house.

Calvin, Elsa Clair and a partly obscured Athena peer out the window at us.

Once we head inside, we all play the Treats for the Feets game, where each dog gets a treat for getting his or her feet wiped. This also involves toweling off and removing snow clumps from furry paws. Of course all this activity requires Supervision by at least one of the cats.
 

Tucker and Lilah waiting for their Feets to be dried. Elsa Clair Supervises.

What IS this stuff? Calvin ponders snow brought inside and shaken off the dogs' fur.

The Winter Games have just begun, and we're looking forward to the season.

A Walk on the Wild Side

One of the benefits of having woods as part of my property, and being located next to a few hundred acres of forested county park--is the diversity of wildlife I am privileged to meet or simply observe.

I have more than a dozen birdfeeders in my back yard, but not all birds like to feast at feeders. Many prefer the seclusion of the forest, or prefer the menu available there. 

In addition, a few small streams flow through the woods, providing water not just for drinking, but as an environment for amphibious creatures.

In recent walks through the woods, I've met some of my forest neighbors. I'll introduce you...

At first, you might not actually see the residents of the forest, but they leave signs that let you know they were there.

A deer print in the mud.

A trail shows where the deer tend to walk.

Usually they see you before you see them.

Three deer peer at me from afar. The color of their coats blends in with grey and tan of the trees.

I'm in their neighborhood. I'm the intruder.

Sometimes you hear them before you see them. Birdsong fills the forest; you need a sharp eye to catch a glimpse of some of the more shy species.

When I think of robins, I think of wide green lawns. But their calls (which remind me of a high-pitched laugh) seem to come from everywhere in the woods.

A tufted titmouse takes a break on a low branch.

I'm pretty sure this was the work of a particular bird: the very large Pileated Woodpecker.

And sure enough, she makes an appearance. I can tell this is a female Pileated because a male would have a red stripe on his face--above his "mustache."

Sometimes the creatures are there, right in front of you, but easy to overlook.

An ant drags a prize along a fallen tree trunk. I think it is a bird dropping; not much is wasted in the finely balanced ecosystem of the forest.

I was staring at this frog for several minutes before I saw him, blending in among the aquatic plants and rocks in the stream.

Once you see one frog, others seem to appear out of nowhere.

And, as always, there is some representative of the greeting committee to welcome me back to the yard.

Tucker sticks his nose through the fence.

Every time I walk in the forest, I find something new. The light changes, new plants bloom. Nests and dens are built, and babies born. This is why I live near the woods.