More Fledgling Barred Owl Pics!

Last evening at sunset, May 31st, Joan spotted one of the fledgling barred owls in trees behind our house. Called down, standing from a slightly different vantage point, I could see that both baby owls were perched on the same branch.

Every time we moved they would check us out.

2020 has been a great owl year. And there seem to be fewer squirrels around than a month ago ...

A Second Owl Family

A few afternoons ago, May 22nd, Joan entered the woods behind our house to track down young barred owl calls, expecting to discover one of the youngsters that we've been watching since May 3rd. Instead she discovered a much younger owl:

She called me out to see, and we realized that there were three young owls, two more clinging just above the first!

These were younger than the pair we had being seeing. Those owls were almost as big as their parents now, but these were still downy and large-eyed. I walked around the tree and zoomed in on the upper two for this photo.

If these were not the original chicks, as seems almost certain, then there is a second breeding pair of barred owls in our woods ... these chicks had not traveled far from their nest, nor would they for a few weeks. A second pair was not implausible; the Blacklick Woods Metro Park has three pairs this year. But it was certainly unexpected. Perhaps some of the chicks from 2009 or 2010 have set up housekeeping here in their birthplace? In any case, this would add up to nine owls (two sets of parents, and a total of five chicks) in our woods!

Joan and I were astonished, and thrilled. Our owl-watching season was suddenly extended. Then, not even half an hour later, I was called out to the deck. One the parents, being harassed by outraged robins, had decided to take a breather in the dogwood tree next to our deck.

When I mention outraged robins, I mean outraged. They are astonished and indignant that owls would dare be anywhere near their nests, and they must insist to the owls that their kind is not wanted, each and every day. Loudly. Repeatedly. That's how we know when to look for owls, by listening for upset robins (or, sometimes, crows). This robin is the one that dared get closest to this owl.

The barred owl was taking it easy in the dogwood. The foliage was dense enough that the robins couldn't execute a harassing high-speed flyby, and they dared not linger near the owl. Small birds can outmaneuver the owl, but if they become complacent, they become a tasty snack.

Often it was nap time. Our presence on the deck was of no concern, as long as we didn't make sudden moves or startling noises.

Sometimes he would look around.

Sometimes he would check for any action below him.

 He would let us approach within just a few feet.

Sometimes he would open a weary eye just to see if we were doing anything interesting.

 This was also a good time for grooming. Feet, for instance,

or feathers.

After a satisfying grooming session he looked twice as large. Airing the feathers out on a hot day must have felt oh-so-good.

Puffed or sleek, the feathers of the barred owl create a stunning combination of patterns within the limited, brown-and-white palette. The head is mottled, while the chest is streaked, and the wings and back form bands. As camouflage, it's perfect. We've seen a barred owl fly into a tree and then become invisible when his back melts into the bark.

May 22nd ... a red-letter day for owl watching.

Our Barred Owls, 2012

The barred owls that we have reported on before, including last year, are raising two chicks this spring. Earlier in the year, there were few photographic opportunities: the owls would make their calls ("Who cooks for you, who cooks for you-all?" and a chimpanzee-like "hoot-hoot-HOOT") at dusk or after dark. The first weekend in May more than compensated, because we got good looks at the two young owls just after they left the nest.

Joan discovered a toddler owl on the ground below the sycamore early on May 3rd. It looked bewildered, as would you or I after falling 20 to 30 feet from the nest. His/her coordination was lacking after spending a lifetime in a crowded tree cavity, and he/she could barely climb up on a large stick lying on the ground.

The parent was keeping a watchful eye out for any threats, and changed perches frequently.

The sibling began to peer out from the cavity an hour or so later.

The young owls have the instinct to climb, to get higher above the ground, even though they are yet incapable of flight. Flapping vigorously assists the effort made with beak and talons, however.

This chick ended up backwards, and several times we were sure he would soon lose his grip, fall, and join his brother on the ground.

He eventually fell back into the nest cavity instead.

The next morning we rushed downstairs to check on "our" owls. Overnight the second had joined the first a few feet above the ground, in a tiny sapling that offered no new heights to climb.

They squirmed on the sapling but didn't move to a new tree. Such maneuvers happen only overnight.

When we checked again a couple of hours later, the parent was visiting and grooming the children.

Then we departed for the weekend, but the first thing we did on our return Sunday afternoon was to go on an owl safari, to see if we could find them. The toddlers had clearly gained strength, as they were now much higher up, and each in a different tree. We located the first one quickly.

The second was hard to find, but we knew it would not have gone any distance, so we searched around the old location and around the parent, and discovered him cloistered in foliage.

We consider ourselves truly privileged to have observed these barred owls over the last three seasons.

A Weekend of Owls

Last weekend was one whose schedule was determined by owls. Not due to their traditional wisdom, but because we and our neighbors feel almost proprietary towards the barred owls that have nested nearby, and, fulfilling our hopes, we had fabulous opportunities to observe them, including at least one youngster, shifting our plans.

Our first hint that something unusual was happening was on Thursday or Friday, when one of the parents spent a long while perched in the pear tree not six feet from our kitchen window. Joan and I admired him, but I did not get a picture, being reluctant to step away.

On Saturday evening we realized why the parent had been loitering so close by, when Joan spotted a chick thirty feet up a tree. In this initial photo, taken at maximum zoom, he's just "resting his eyes." We alerted our neighbors, whipped out our binoculars, and we all were able to study his still-downy countenance as the light faded.

On Sunday morning, a parent was again in the pear tree. I was determined to get a picture; this snapshot has him facing away, but it shows how close he was, unconcerned about us.

Joan raised the blinds in the dining room to get a better look at the owl's face, and he responded by flying into the serviceberry that brushes against that window! (The following pictures were taken through the window.) First, an unretouched image, where the morning sunlight passing through the foliage gives everything, including the owl, a greenish glow. Our eyes could compensate for the color, but the camera cannot!

Here is a partially color-corrected image. The tinting from the sunlight wasn't a pure green, so it was difficult for me to reach a purely natural coloring through computer manipulation.

Here he is with a bit of zoom.

After several minutes of studying us he flew into the woods. We stepped outside, and saw that the chick was only a few feet from last night's position. At first, the youngster occupied himself by preening.

He soon became restless, however, and began flapping his wings and shifting his weight.

The chick did not have full powers of flight, but by flapping and hopping he could scoot along branches and jump to nearby trees.

At one point I sneezed, and the chick stared at me.

After a few seconds he lost interest, just as his parents would, and turned away.

About an hour and a half later a parent returned with a small fish hanging from its beak. It landed close to its offspring, and appeared to offer the treat, or at least to tantalize with it, but the chick never seized the food. This took place deeper in the woods than the earlier sightings, and thus was more obscured; Joan speculates that the parent was attempting to urge the chick into flight, to come after the fish. Eventually that parent flew away. Later a parent, possibly the same bird and possibly not, flew up to the chick: it is not known what was said.

The final owl story comes from our neighbors Dennis and Ilona. At some point in the last two weeks, a parent owl was sitting on the wren house in their back yard, facing the woods. This posture meant that the owl's tail feathers were obscuring the entrance to the wren house. Mama wren, not knowing just what the obstacle was, burst out of the house through the owl's tail. Whoops! She realized her proximity to beak and talons, and dove into ground cover.

Cowly Owl

As soon as we reached home with S and J (yes, I will continue working on our account of the trip), one of the barred owl parents made an appearance for our guests. Immediately, it was deemed a superb owl, and much photographed by Serge.

And I learned something from Serge and Joan, a phrase current when they were in university at Nantes. According to the French dictionary Le Petit Robert, the word 'chouette' is not only the noun for 'owl', but used as an adjective means pretty, elegant, worthy of admiration. This usage was first employed in 1830. Also, 'vachement' (literally, cow-like) has two meanings; informally, it can be dull or mechanical, reminiscent of a cow chewing cud, or, very informally, it can be an intensifier ('very') usually in a positive sense. Very nice. Really excellent. Vachement chouette. Cowly owl.

The owls made several appearances, visual and vocal, for our guests, for which we were grateful. They did not get a chance to see the owl chicks, however. Nor did we for a long time. It had been a wet spring, with an extraordinarily warm April, and the foliage burst out much earlier than last year, obscuring our views behind a green curtain. However, a few days ago we did get to see one youngster. The views were better by binocular than with camera, but I hope these photos are good enough to merit a glance.

At first we saw only one of the parents, hunched over in an odd position.

Later it turned to face the other way and spread its feathers.

I was inside with the kitchen window lowered. Joan moved to the deck to observe from a different angle, and this interrupted the feeding of robin chicks in the dogwood overhanging our deck. The parent would not approach the nest while a potential predator lurked nearby (Joan). Even with a mess of worms ready to deliver.

Then we spotted a chick deeper in the woods. I was kneeling on the floor at times to get the best view through the opened window.

That afternoon Joan called me downstairs to see the parent with some prey -- in binoculars it looked perhaps to be a very young squirrel -- standing next to the chick.

The parent would wave the prey in front of the chick. Sometimes it would be transferred from beak to claw and back. I assume the chick could have taken the morsel at any time, but it did not, and the parent did not render the corpse to offer smaller tidbits.

Finally the parent either lost patience with her offspring, or was too tempted for herself, and swallowed the young squirrel. The food took a while to inch down the owl's gullet; her head remained aimed at the sky for several minutes before she could lower it again.

I can just hear the parent saying, "if you won't eat this, then I will."

Last Pix owl chicks

As the leaves continued to come out in the woods behind our house, it became more and more difficult to locate the owl chicks. Not only were they behind leaves, but they were getting higher and higher in the trees! Here are the last two owl chick photographs for this year. In one, a chick is brightly lit. In the second, the two owls are side-by-side on a branch and you're looking at the pair almost edge-on.



Note: barred owls are supposed to be loyal to their territory, so, given that they had a successful nest this year in the sycamore, there's a good chance that we'll see them again March - May of 2010. Our fingers are crossed.

More owl chick encounters

While out in the woods, Joan encountered the first chick a day or two later. It was barely ten feet up in a tree, a few feet away from the original sycamore. It was completely unconcerned with us; however, we knew Mama or Papa was keeping a close eye on things and we didn't get too close. But we got a photo through the leaves.


The very next day, we got our first sighting of the second chick as the light was fading. This time, we saw the chick eventually decide to go back into the nest for one more day.


The next morning, we saw the second chick emerge again. This time, it tried earnestly to master using the beak and feet to climb around the tree, but its coordination wasn't up to the task. The chick fell most of the way down the tree, flapping, and then it caught a small branch in its talons. This left the bewildered chick hanging upside down five feet off the ground. After struggling for a few minutes to right himself, the chick gave up, let go, and fell to the ground. It gathered its wits for a few moments and then toddled off into the woods. My guess is that this is perfectly normal behavior, and indeed, we later saw the two chicks clustered together in the same tree, waiting to be able to fly.

First Owl Chick

My apologies for not having posted for nearly four weeks, but it's been a very eventful month, including two weeks of hiking in the Canadian Rockies, and some family matters. Eventually I'll get this blog close to real time, rather than 3 months behind!

Meanwhile, cast your mind back to late April. We are constantly keeping an eye on the "owl sycamore", hoping to catch a glimpse of the chicks. Then one evening, with barely enough light for a photo, the first/older chick emerged.


What an entrance! We stared out the window with binoculars until the light failed, as the chick tested its grasp of the tree's skin. The young owl cannot fly for a few weeks after leaving the nest; they get down to the ground with a three-point stance (beak and two taloned feet) and an occasional but harmless tumble, then waddle to a destination tree and make a three-point climb. Ah, but that's a story about chick #2 a few days later.

Meanwhile, the parent owls kept a vigilant lookout. They harassed and were harassed by crows, especially, but their presence also rasied a ruckus among the robins, and there was a brief tussle with a passing Cooper's hawk that tried to land too close to the sycamore. Owls fly silently -- turn your back and they're gone without a whisper. I did manage one snapshot of the adult in flight.