Yesterday we had an infrequent visitor. The Better Half brought to my attention a barred owl perched on a dead branch behind the garage, on the south side of the house. Other years when we’ve been visited by a barred owl, s/he perched in a tree on the north side. The bird feeders were unattended while the owl was visiting. We’ll see if we end up with a nesting pair anywhere nearby. There’s an abundance of squirrels living on the property that could stand thinning.
barred owl on dead branch
Photo by J. Harrington
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I first became familiar with barred owls when I started turkey hunting years and years ago. Imitating the owl’s call was an attempt to get a tom turkey to respond with a gobble. Memory fails regarding whether the ruse was ever successful, but playing the game was always fun.
Over the next several days we’re supposed to enjoy a February thaw. And then, with luck, we’ll settle into a more seasonal temperature pattern and the Arctic air will stay in the Arctic where it belongs. Today’s howling winds have drifted snow across almost all the local roads. Winter has now reached the point of resembling a guest who has overstayed their welcome.
A Barred Owl
The warping night air having brought the boomOf an owl’s voice into her darkened room,We tell the wakened child that all she heardWas an odd question from a forest bird,Asking of us, if rightly listened to,“Who cooks for you?” and then “Who cooks for you?”Words, which can make our terrors bravely clear,Can also thus domesticate a fear,And send a small child back to sleep at nightNot listening for the sound of stealthy flightOr dreaming of some small thing in a clawBorne up to some dark branch and eaten raw.
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Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.
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