Owls
Posted: Mon Jun 14, 2010 11:28 am
I was reminded a moment ago about a story from my Montana days. I was driving my Wife, 4 kids, Mom and Dad in our rickety but reliable old Ford station wagon down I 15 late one night, abotu 50 or so miles south of Missoula. The kids were sleeping and Gail was talking with my Mom quietly, while Dad and I were watching the road. I came up on a large RV lumbering along and pulled into the passing lane.
Suddenly, I saw something flash across the highway and strike the side of the RV. It cartwheeled away from the side of the RV and I could see instantly it was a large owl. I swerved just in time and passed the RV, motoring on in the night.
The further I drove, the more I started thinking about that owl. Interstate highways were practically deserted in Montana back then; it was not uncommon to see only a couple of cars in 100 miles of driving at that time of night. However, I thought that if that owl was not dead, some idiot with a big truck would undoubtedly run over the thing for sport.
My conscience finally got the better of me and I slowed down, used a crossover, and went back the 5 or so miles to see what became of the owl. When we arrived, it was still laying in a heap of feathers in the middle of the road.
This was a young Great Horned Owl. When he stood on his feet, he might have been about a foot or so high -- it's hard to tell about owls, because their bodies can stretch in the craziest ways! But I'm sure that his wingspan was as wide as the front seat in the station wagon!
Anyway, Dad and I came up on him and nudged him with our feet a bit. The owl gave only a few small movements. He appeared to be stunned. So we got a paper grocery sack from the car and maneuvered him head first into the bag. Now, lest you think that we were being a bit cruel, may I remind you that Mr. Owl had no chance, had we left him on the road, and probably little more, had we pushed him into the ditch to recover. He would doubtlessly have been a nice meal for a wandering coyote in that case.
So I didn't feel guilty at all about stuffing him head first in that paper sack. Especially after looking at his claws, which were about 2 cm long and very sharp! Also, having his vicious looking beak at the bottom of the sack was a bit comforting, as well.
We got back in the wagon and Mr. Owl in the sack was next to my Dad for the hour or so drive we had left. Every now and then, the owl would shift slightly in the sack, but he gave little sign of doing anything drastic, although we certainly kept an eye out for any notification of his objecting to being upside down in the sack, in case a quick stop would be necessary. There was not enough room in the car for the 8 of us and that owl, should he start flapping about!
That night, we got home and turned the bag over on the garage floor. The owl stood on his feet, not making a move. So, we closed the door to the garage and went to bed.
This garage was little more than a shed. It actually had 3 car bays, but only one garage door. In the other two bays, I had my motorcycle, the kids bikes, the family freezer, and the winter wood supply for our home heat -- done by wood stove. (We had no furnace.)
By the next day, Mr. Owl had perched up on the wood pile. I began going out to a local gulch and shooting rabbits to keep the owl fed. Maybe you are not familiar with an owl's digestive habits. Well, if you take pigeon droppings and multiply them by about 50, you will get the idea of the produce from the "tradesman's entry." But that's not all. All of the stuff the owl cannot digest, like fur and bones, comes back out the entry, looking very much like the turds of a fair sized dog, which are called "castings". Also, some of the entrails of the rabbits were left uneaten by Mr. Owl.
I always found it interesting to think about which way the owl's head had turned! You see, he usually perched with his back to the door, but his head would swivel around 180° to look right at the door when someone came in. So the "contest" was to guess which way his head had swiveled around on his body, clockwise or counterclockwise.
Another interesting thing was the fabled silent flight of the owl. I can't give you a personal account, but I can relate Gail's: She went out into the garage one day to get some frozen food from the freezer. She always was pretty scared of that owl, and one look at it's beak and talons would make a believer out of any other reasonable person, as well -- even you!
When she got into the garage, the owl flew toward her. Gail ducked and covered her head, and when she stood and turned, the owl was right behind her on a ledge. He had flown right over her head, and she said she did not hear even the slightest noise. Think about being a mouse or rabbit with one of those things flying about you!!!
After about 3 weeks of this, the garage was a total mess of rabbit entrails, excrement, and castings. It was time for Mr. Owl to return to nature! So, I opened the side door to the garage and my brother-in-law and I circled around behind the owl. After about 5 minutes of VERY careful coaxing, he caught sight of the house outside of the door, and began ducking and looking. Soon, he took off out the door and lit up on the peak of the house roof.
As soon as that owl hit the outside of the garage -- I mean, the VERY instant -- the whole entire neighborhood erupted in a huge cacophony of every sort of bird! There were lots of big trees around, and lots of birds, but I never knew there were so many! There were hundreds wheeling and circling in the sky, and they began to dive-bomb the owl, harrying him until he took off. As he flew away, they continued their heckling of him until he was out of sight.
I don't know how much time elapsed -- maybe a month or so -- before, in the evening, we began hearing the telltale hoots of a great horned owl. Soon, there were answers. Our owl had acquired a lady friend, in the way of nature immemorial. (Here, I should state that I never really knew which sex our owl was, nor did I have any intention of getting close enough to the creature to find out. It simply wasn't necessary information! I call him "he" for the sake of the story, but please don't infer that I had any expert knowledge about this matter!)
For the few years that we remained there, the hooting of those two owls in the evening became fairly common. After awhile, the local newspaper even snapped a picture of one of them and published it with a caption. For myself, I felt pretty good about the whole episode, for I had had an up close and personal encounter with this great bird, and had the pleasure of hearing it hoot to its mate for several years thereafter.
I guess it isn't much of a story for you, but I do remember this quite fondly.
Suddenly, I saw something flash across the highway and strike the side of the RV. It cartwheeled away from the side of the RV and I could see instantly it was a large owl. I swerved just in time and passed the RV, motoring on in the night.
The further I drove, the more I started thinking about that owl. Interstate highways were practically deserted in Montana back then; it was not uncommon to see only a couple of cars in 100 miles of driving at that time of night. However, I thought that if that owl was not dead, some idiot with a big truck would undoubtedly run over the thing for sport.
My conscience finally got the better of me and I slowed down, used a crossover, and went back the 5 or so miles to see what became of the owl. When we arrived, it was still laying in a heap of feathers in the middle of the road.
This was a young Great Horned Owl. When he stood on his feet, he might have been about a foot or so high -- it's hard to tell about owls, because their bodies can stretch in the craziest ways! But I'm sure that his wingspan was as wide as the front seat in the station wagon!
Anyway, Dad and I came up on him and nudged him with our feet a bit. The owl gave only a few small movements. He appeared to be stunned. So we got a paper grocery sack from the car and maneuvered him head first into the bag. Now, lest you think that we were being a bit cruel, may I remind you that Mr. Owl had no chance, had we left him on the road, and probably little more, had we pushed him into the ditch to recover. He would doubtlessly have been a nice meal for a wandering coyote in that case.
So I didn't feel guilty at all about stuffing him head first in that paper sack. Especially after looking at his claws, which were about 2 cm long and very sharp! Also, having his vicious looking beak at the bottom of the sack was a bit comforting, as well.
We got back in the wagon and Mr. Owl in the sack was next to my Dad for the hour or so drive we had left. Every now and then, the owl would shift slightly in the sack, but he gave little sign of doing anything drastic, although we certainly kept an eye out for any notification of his objecting to being upside down in the sack, in case a quick stop would be necessary. There was not enough room in the car for the 8 of us and that owl, should he start flapping about!
That night, we got home and turned the bag over on the garage floor. The owl stood on his feet, not making a move. So, we closed the door to the garage and went to bed.
This garage was little more than a shed. It actually had 3 car bays, but only one garage door. In the other two bays, I had my motorcycle, the kids bikes, the family freezer, and the winter wood supply for our home heat -- done by wood stove. (We had no furnace.)
By the next day, Mr. Owl had perched up on the wood pile. I began going out to a local gulch and shooting rabbits to keep the owl fed. Maybe you are not familiar with an owl's digestive habits. Well, if you take pigeon droppings and multiply them by about 50, you will get the idea of the produce from the "tradesman's entry." But that's not all. All of the stuff the owl cannot digest, like fur and bones, comes back out the entry, looking very much like the turds of a fair sized dog, which are called "castings". Also, some of the entrails of the rabbits were left uneaten by Mr. Owl.
I always found it interesting to think about which way the owl's head had turned! You see, he usually perched with his back to the door, but his head would swivel around 180° to look right at the door when someone came in. So the "contest" was to guess which way his head had swiveled around on his body, clockwise or counterclockwise.
Another interesting thing was the fabled silent flight of the owl. I can't give you a personal account, but I can relate Gail's: She went out into the garage one day to get some frozen food from the freezer. She always was pretty scared of that owl, and one look at it's beak and talons would make a believer out of any other reasonable person, as well -- even you!
When she got into the garage, the owl flew toward her. Gail ducked and covered her head, and when she stood and turned, the owl was right behind her on a ledge. He had flown right over her head, and she said she did not hear even the slightest noise. Think about being a mouse or rabbit with one of those things flying about you!!!
After about 3 weeks of this, the garage was a total mess of rabbit entrails, excrement, and castings. It was time for Mr. Owl to return to nature! So, I opened the side door to the garage and my brother-in-law and I circled around behind the owl. After about 5 minutes of VERY careful coaxing, he caught sight of the house outside of the door, and began ducking and looking. Soon, he took off out the door and lit up on the peak of the house roof.
As soon as that owl hit the outside of the garage -- I mean, the VERY instant -- the whole entire neighborhood erupted in a huge cacophony of every sort of bird! There were lots of big trees around, and lots of birds, but I never knew there were so many! There were hundreds wheeling and circling in the sky, and they began to dive-bomb the owl, harrying him until he took off. As he flew away, they continued their heckling of him until he was out of sight.
I don't know how much time elapsed -- maybe a month or so -- before, in the evening, we began hearing the telltale hoots of a great horned owl. Soon, there were answers. Our owl had acquired a lady friend, in the way of nature immemorial. (Here, I should state that I never really knew which sex our owl was, nor did I have any intention of getting close enough to the creature to find out. It simply wasn't necessary information! I call him "he" for the sake of the story, but please don't infer that I had any expert knowledge about this matter!)
For the few years that we remained there, the hooting of those two owls in the evening became fairly common. After awhile, the local newspaper even snapped a picture of one of them and published it with a caption. For myself, I felt pretty good about the whole episode, for I had had an up close and personal encounter with this great bird, and had the pleasure of hearing it hoot to its mate for several years thereafter.
I guess it isn't much of a story for you, but I do remember this quite fondly.
( fantum paaje please arrange for a drink party ) 
. My mom busted it when she found out that we are having a baby snake there 
