The Year of The OWL

Many things happen during a twelve-month period in Nature. 

Though similar, they are never the same. Each year becomes "The Year Of ..."

The past one was definitely "The Year of The Owl".

(I dedicate this entry to my owl-loving niece Francesca, 

true environmentalist and a tireless advocate of Nature)

Northern Hawk Owl, Surnia ulula
from Bird Feeder - part III

June:
My friends and I decided to explore and photograph a wonderful part of the Washington State, USA, called The Palouse. We commenced our trip by visiting an old cemetery by a small town of  Spangle, The cemetery, quite detached and seemingly forgotten by the town below, sits, like an open history book, on the top of the largest hill. Only the old tombstones and a handful of mature trees obstruct a full 360 degree view of the sea of green, gently rolling country below.

Spalding, Old Cemetery, WA, USA

The center of the cemetery is crowned by an old spruce which must have been planted by some of the early settlers almost a century and a half ago. Thinking of what life must have been back then I somehow felt drawn to that central point, the tree that remembered the times gone by. Almost past it,  I noticed that, in one place, its otherwise evenly placed bark bulged in an untidy way.  The irregularity made me look up.

A pair of beautiful yellow,  motionless eyes stared at me betraying the perfect camouflage of a large bird.

The colors and patterns of its plumage made it almost invisible as it sat close to the trunk pretending to be just another bit growth. Even the topmost feathers, the "horns" helped it to blend in, as they followed the deep creases in the bark.

For the entire duration of our visit a Great Horned Owl, Bubo virginianus, has been patiently observing our every step. 

When all four of us gathered underneath the tree it allowed us to take a couple of photos and then took off to seek a more peaceful perch in younger trees by the edge of the cemetery.

Striped Skunk, Mephitis mephitis                       

It was the last place where we would have expected to find an owl but more we thought about it, the greater sense it made.

A quiet cemetery with old trees (so scarce otherwise) and fertile fields all around must have been a good venue for the largest of all North American owls.
There must be many rodents scurrying all over the  place, enough for bird  to make a decent living.

A silent, ncturnal hunter, it would go after other prey too,snakes, frogs, rabbits, hares, raccoons, even a baby deer.

And, as the only avian species, it also regularly preys on skunks.
Swooping down on wings with flight feathers equipped with special comb-like structures that reduce the sound to nothing, and equipped with sharp  talons that can squeeze with amazing force, it gives its prey only a minuscule chance to react.

October: 
I was hiking the woods near Chilliwack - Yarrow, BC. It was early morning and I was determined to make my way to the rocky shores of Chilliwack River. Salmon spawn had begun and I was hoping to find some photo-action there. 

Somewhere past all this growth would be the rocky shore, river, salmon, sea gulls and, hopefully, not many (preferably none) people.
But I wasn't the only one hoping for zero people, someone else was hoping for the same. 

Barred Owl, Strix varia was taking a morning break after a night's hunt. Unfortunately it was a bit too high and obstructed by the autumn leaves to give me a clear view. It sat with its back to me but as I was trying to provide my camera with a tad better view, the head  pivoted in that typical owl fashion and the eyes, all dark, bore into mine. 

The owls' eyes cannot move in their sockets, and while mine are equipped with muscles that make the eyeballs move, the owls have to turn their heads in that specialized owl fashion. Their neck vertebrae have different structure than ours; so do their neck muscles and veins. They can turn their heads without strangling themselves or cutting off their blood supply to the brain. A really neat study by the scientists at John Hopkins University  only recently shed light on these adaptations..

The owl and I just stared at each other for a while (I wasn't moving my eyeballs either in order not to scare the bird.) When I finally lowered mi sight to look at the camera and back, the owl was gone.

Chillwack River, BC, Canada

Red Admiral ,Vanessa atalanta on wild Butterfly Bush, Buddleia, Chilliwack River

February:
Winter snow has prompted little birds to come closer to the bird feeders in Glade. Large flocks of finches,  redpolls and siskins kept on arriving and leaving and then arriving again. Resident chickadees, jays and flickers kept the place busy non stop. Only Northern Shrike left and none of them seemed to regret it.
However, their happiness did not last long.

A tiny but skillful hunter arrived to take care of mice and aging birds. A Northern Pygmy Owl, Glaucidium 

gnoma took up its residence in the village!  The very first Pygmy Owl that I have ever seen in our neighborhood!

Quite visible to all it settled on a bare branch two meters above the ground. A bunch chickadees mobbed it for a short while but then, foolishly, I thought, lost their interest.

The owl, a cute little fluff, Mother of all Deception, sat there, body motionless, only its head rotating as it tried to keep the track of the birds. Two dark "eye" spots on the back of the head proved to be quite confusing, probably not only to me but to the birds as well. Given its small size of about only 15 cm one was never quite sure what was the owl observing.

Hiding behind the corner about twenty meters away from the bird, I carefully set my tripod and the camera with a 400 mm lens and, fully expecting the bird to fly away, started shooting . My first photos show a tiny bird in the middle of a very large space.
Having those I dared to move the whole setup a bit closer. The owl merely looked in my direction and turned its head some hundred and eighty degrees away as if I wasn't worth looking at. More clicks and more movement .. closer .... and closer .....and closer still until I was mere three meters away! And the owl just sat there as if it could not care less. It allowed me to manoeuvre about to get a better composition, change the depth of field and add a  filter.  Oh, and change the battery as well. Then a friend's car drove down the driveway and he got out and marched right by the owl into the house. The bird merely blinked and looked away.

It was the first sunny afternoon and at about four pm, the  light was soft and low and right behind my back. It was my birthday too and the owl probably decided to grant me a present!

The only thing that seemed to bother it were harsh clicks of the shutter on my camera (here is a gentle suggestion to manufacturers).

The little Pygmy Owl gave me good twenty minutes of its presence before it took off. Its flight was not exactly as quiet as the flight of the night-hunting owl, it does not have its flight feathers equipped with tiny combs for silent flight. There is no reason for such stealth; because it is a day-hunting creature (diurnal), everyone can see it anyway. It was fast though, somewhere in the literature I learned that pygmy owls have been observed to chase and catch small birds in flight. Just have a closer look at it:






Since that day, I'd seen it only once.

Announcing its arrival with a rapid koo-koo-koo-koo-koo-oo it landed on the top of a far-away tree.

It made me wonder, The owls nest early in the season but I am afraid that the woods around here are not old enough for that.

The Bird Feeder - part III

At times many species of birds come together to share the space in peace. This birch is their favourite perch and a great lookout. It is often possible to see the House Finches, Pine Siskins and American Goldfinches sharing the birch with Northern Flickers and even with noisy Steller's Jays.

Northern Flicker, Colaptes auratus

American Goldfinch, Carduelis tristis
This finch will turn lemon-yellow in spring.

House Finch, Carpodacus mexicanus
The male's red colour advertises his healthy state to a potential mate.
The intensity is related to the quality and abundance of food.

Steller's Jay, Cyanocitta stelleri  moved in from higher elevations for the winter. I read somewhere that these noisy birds move in flocks of 10 or more birds but that is not our experience. We usually see two or three during the fall and winter. In summertime they move into the woods somewhere higher up. It is quite amusing to watch them as they collect and stash away their seeds and nuts. They arrive and stuff their gullets with seeds to a bulging point. Then they fly away to store their treasure in a secret place - often under a bush where it is going to get covered by a thick layer of snow!  In most cases however, they store their food up in the trees and, in the winter, relying on their memory, they re-visit hundreds of locations where they hid the food. How, after such long periods of time and after using so many locations they can find their cache is beyond me. Luckily, I can rely on a variety of supermarkets rather than on my poor memory for my winter survival. Otherwise, you would never read this blog.

Busy, pre-winter time.

Periods of peaceful coexistence on the birch tree do not usually last very long. The weary birds keep an eye out for any movement, their numbers and behaviour helpful in detecting any danger. It takes one of them to freak out and in a split of an unnerving second they all take flight and head for a cover.

Their panic is often without a merit and seems to be a complete waste of energy.
But when the birch tree becomes abandoned and the birds are nowhere in sight we better look around, chances are that there could be a special visitor nearby. An American Crow, Corvus brachyrhynchos (or two) will make the little guys take off, but the birds will soon return. When the times get tough, the crows too, will explore the feeder and its vicinity. They are smart creatures, extremely aware of their surroundings and here in the countryside they (unlike their town dwelling, garbage picking cousins) will never allow me to get close to them .
I took this photo through our kitchen window - even so, they registered and, right took off.

If there is a Northern Shrike nearby, the small birds will disappear without a trace, and for as long as the shrike is in its hunting mode, all will be quiet around the yard . 

Fortunately for the birds, the shrike never stays long here - for a couple of weeks, maybe three at the most. It pearches high  on a tree every second day and then it is gone.

But the shrike's disappearance does not mean that the birds are home-free. 

Once in a blue moon, other, special visitors check in.  

Two winters ago a Hawk Owl,  Surnia ulula (what a great sound to its Latin name) 

settled on the very top of a young Douglas Fir surveying the grounds. The small birds are in a habit of mobbing owls but we have not witnessed this behaviour.

Hawk Owl hunts during the day and although it prefers to eat mice and voles, birds are also on its menu. 

It will swoop down on them from its perch where it sat motionless like a fluffy statue. Like all the owls, this one too has a great advantage when it comes to sitting still and yet, looking about. Its cervical vertebra, muscles and blood vessels are  is adapted in a way that allows the bird to turn its head in about 270 degrees each to either side! 

In addition the owl's plumage is also built in a special way helping to reduce the noise, that why its flight is "deathly" quiet. So when an owl swoops down it is usually too late for its prey before it realizes that a big trouble is on its way.

"Our" Hawk Owl visited for about a week. It occupied the birch tree where it sat patiently watching the space below. 

It might have been a scurrying mouse or an unwary bird, foraging on the ground that made it to swoop down on its silent wings. Too focused on taking a picture, I did not have time to check out if the hunt ended in success. The owl disappeared behind the shrubs giving me no further chance.

Hawk Owl stayed with us for a couple of more days before it moved on. 

It seems that our birch tree was only a stopover on its way to better, rodent-richer grounds.

And the birds? I found them hidden in the bushes, relying on camouflage and general confusion. 

Everything was quiet there, nobody moved, nobody made a sound. I happened to be only meters away before I noticed them at all.

Bobcat ...and the cat came back...

Yes, the Bobcat, Lynx rufus, returned!

Several days after the initial sighting, the bobcat and I met again. Meanwhile, someone in the neighborhood reported a lost Yorkshire Terrier. It went for a run outside the yard and never came back. Hard to know, but the coincidence is hard to ignore. 

The second time we saw him, and I do believe that this was a male, he was hunting in  the lower section of the property obviously checking out the rodents that were minding their business among the grasses and under the hard cover of snow. 

Absorbed in its hunt, the cat ignored everything else in the surrounding world. Just like any domestic cat, it noiselessly covered the ground on its quiet feet ...

than sat ... listened ...observed ... patiently waiting for its moment to arrive....

When it did the bobcat sprung up like a Jack from a box and in one elegant motion attacked its prey. 

Missed! 

At least I believed that he did, for there was no sign of a dinner.

Only after his unsuccessful hunt did the Bobcat become aware of the shining glass of my 400 mm lens. He gave me a very long look-over, a bunch of unfriendly thoughts and then, just like the first time, he dashed away, leaving me with a memory that will, forever, be hard to forget.

Bobcats' common name (in English) is derived from its short tail as this one demonstrates the case. Because of its reddish colour they might call it a red lynx  in other parts of the world.

Bobcats are elusive and territorial animals but the winter is their mating time. Males might start wondering and as the saying goes - love (or hunger for that matter ) is a powerful magician - so that's probably why this handsome creature lost its normal bobcat mind and let us witness the small portion of its bobcat day.

The Bird Feeder - part II

Winter continues and so do the Pine Siskin,  wars.
Identifying Pine Siskins by their Latin names will lead to Spinus pinus which is a protonym and/or the presently used Cardeuelis pinus.

It is both, a good challenge and fun, to try to freeze their flight and study the amazing variety of their movements and body language. The above image must be one of my favourite photos, and no, I did not Photoshop the bird in. It was just one of those lucky shots and I almost collapsed laughing when I saw what my camera captured on that beautiful, sunny, mid-winter afternoon.
Their eye-brain-muscle coordination floors me (you are reading a note from someone who just recently managed to fall off a treadmill while doing 5 km/hr). How much more is there to learn and will we EVER come close to knowing the ways of Nature?

Observing the Siskins evokes other thoughts: there is a much too familiar trait to their interactions - it seems to be better to loose a seed than letting the other guy have one, or spend a vast amount of energy in chasing and not being able to feed at all. There is a good study regarding childrens' psychology that describes nearly identical behaviour in human kind.

The others at the feeder value their energy much more than the siskin warriors. They do not squabble, lest fight. They just quickly fly in, preferably while the siskins are busy fighting, kidnap a sunflower seed and scurry away to safety of a nearby bush or tree.

There, choosing a nice little branch, they place the seed against its hard background and give it a thorough whacking until the shell breaks up. That's how it's done in a civilized society!

This is a Black-capped Chickadee, Poecile atricapillus, the one with the familiar chick-a-dee-dee-dee call. According to Richard Cannings and his Birds of Interior BC and the Rockies the number of "dee-dee-dees" increases if there is a predator nearby. I am trying not to quote too much but this is a really neat fact.
We have to try to observe this sometimes.

The other day we noticed that there was another, different, chickadee at the feeder. Same size, same shape and mostly same colours but it had a white streak - like a brow above the eye. It was a Mountain Chickadee, Poecile gambeli. Either we have not noticed it before or it is a new arrival at this place (though their ranges overlap in BC). in any case - the photo-hunt is on to capture an image and add it to this story.
Chickadees seem to come and go, so hopefully it will appear again.

1 day later:

OK, did my homework and assaulted a Mountain Chickadee - note the eyebrows. Both,  Black-capped and Mountain Chickadees were flying and feeding together.

It was sunny in the afternoon and the chickadee decided that it was a good time for some gymnastics in the sunshine.

Actually it was "just" preening - giving its coat a very thorough cleanup. 

Birds spend a very high percentage of their time by taking care of the feathers.

Poecile gambeli - did you know that you can find vernacular names - common names of species -  from different languages on www.commons.wikimedia.org ? 

Perhaps you can add some that are still missing  from your language too. 

Underneath a large cultivated cedar lives a pair of lively, almost neurotic birds. Each time one of them ventures out from the darkness of the underbrush, its dark-brown tail whips the air in rapid movements, propelling the bird in many directions (seemingly) at the same time.

Yes, this is a Song Sparrow, Melospiza melodia (at least I hope that my identification is correct because this one has so many relatives that it gave me a good run before I dared to call it a name).

The Song Sparrows prefer to stay close to their apartment on the ground floor and not to fly too high or too far from it.
Once in a while we throw a handful of seeds into the darkness underneath the tree. It is a selfish action though, for not too long from now the male will pay us back with its clear, enthusiastic, spring song.

 To get a Song Sparrow portrait that was not fuzzy took me a while. I did not want to use a high ISO and the bird did not want to stay still. Finally, after setting up a blind and freezing my better parts in it for a very long time, I managed to catch this sparrow (a-male-or-a-female-?) in a state of  inertia.  When the bird showed up it wasn't sure about the "eye" of my lens staring at it from the darkness of the blind so it froze. 

After two seconds of inertia its tail flipped this way and that and the studio session was over. Thank you very much Song Sparrow.

Some like to fly a lot, some fly less and others not too much. But they all fly to get from place to place..

Then there are those who prefer to walk. Why fly when one could use one's legs to get from here to there? 

Flying is good for emergencies .... doesn't it look rather cool to march?

Horned Lark, Eremophila alpestris, is one of those marathon types. 

A very unusual visitor, the Horned Lark shared the yard with us only for a short time. A week at the most and then it was gone. It tried to establish its residence underneath the same cedar tree as the Song Sparrows did. It came out during the day, walked about trying to find some seeds (no insects on the menu at this time - sorry) it even took to the air couple of times (only to come back walking from behind the bushes). Then it was gone.

Perhaps the song sparrows did not like the lark's presence underneath their tree, perhaps some bird-eating monster shortened its life or perhaps it just decided that it was time to find more of its own kind and simply walked away.  In any case, we thoroughly enjoyed this bird's colours and determined looks. Happy travels buddy, and please, come back one day.

Speaking of monsters...I know that I am going to ruffle many feathers by making the following statement but...

CATS ARE NOT WELCOME!

There. I said it and I meant it and I would repeat it many times .... except ....

Well, it just happened so unexpectedly. 

It was nine A.M. and we'd just finished our morning coffee when I looked outside the window and noticed a cat !

A CAT !!!!! A VERY LARGE CAT !!!! 

I sprung to my feet planning to open the door and scare it away so badly that it would NEVER EVER dare to come back again.
But before I finished my first step something made me to look more carefully. It was not just any cat. It was a wild one. A Bobcat! Lynx rufus.

It walked nonchalantly about as if the entire property belonged to it. Mind you we do not live in the middle of the wilderness!
I ran for a camera, ran back and tried to sneak to the window. Forget it. Nonchalance was gone in a split of a second and so was the cat. All I managed to get was this:

I have never seen a wild cat in nature and must say that I was sorry to see it run away so fast. Why didn't I try to sneak upon it in some more intelligent manner .... why ...why ...
Then a song started to play in my mind:
"And the cat came back ..... and the cat came back." Over and over again. Meow. Hope dies last. Maybe we shall see each other again.
Who knows?