Great Horned Owl

The life of the bird photographer is very hard and often dangerous. My latest project took me to the wilds of suburban Whitefish Bay, past gardens of the evil kale and prehistoric rhododendron plants, finally reaching the territory of the Starbucks and Condo tribes where the elusive Great Horned Owl lives.

For the next 10 days I snapped as many photos of the owls as possible under dangerous conditions, knowing that a trip to the Kopps oasis would take almost 15 minutes by foot. 

This was the only adult owl I saw during the time I was there. I don't know if it was the male or female but I suspect that it's the female.

Note the amazing camouflage of the wings in the photo below, making it very                                 difficult for prey to spot the owl among the trees. 

                                                

                 

   This is the first photo of an owlet that I snapped. It was probably 7 or 8 weeks old, since owlets can fly at 9-10 weeks, according to the literature that I read. I soon spotted two more owlets but they were seldom all together.

A week into the session, these two owlets put on a show for me, grooming one another and giving the viewers an "Aww!" moment.

                                                                                       

           

                       






                                        "Look what I can do!"









               On the last day that I saw the owls I got a preview of what would happen the next day.

The owlets were testing their wings and making short flights from tree to tree.

I was lucky to get the following shot of one of the owlets flying.

On the 11th day, the owls were gone. Maybe forever or maybe they'll be back tomorrow, but I knew that they'll never call, never write...because owls can't do that!

Many thanks to friends who initially alerted me to the owls' presence!

Owl be seeing you...

My last post featured a lone Barred Owl in hunting mode. As it turns out, it was probably Mama (Roseanne Barred) owl. Shortly after these encounters, Mama disappeared, and then one day reappeared in a different wooded area located over a shallow pond.

It was fortuitous that one day I spotted Mom fluttering around a hole in a dead tree and realized that she was probably feeding owlets.

A very considerate bird-lover who owned the property where the tree stood allowed me to access her land and get a better position for photo-ops.










At first it seemed like only one owlet was present, but then I got lucky. As I was scouting out one part of the property my eye caught some activity at the base of a nearby tree at the edge of the pond.

I used to say, "I'll eat kale when owls climb trees." Well, I lied...I still won't eat kale, but I saw an owlet climb a tree. The bird apparently left the nest and tried to fly but, like me playing golf,  overestimated its athletic capability.

Much to my surprise, the owlet began to climb the tree. I didn't give it much of a chance, but in the next series of photos you'll see that it used its beak, talons, and wings to climb the tree to safety.

                                                                                                

It took a total of seven minutes, but the persistent owlet reached a safe spot in the tree. I stayed for a while but moved after 45 minutes and witnessed another owlet adventure.

Another owlet was perched on top of the nesting tree, and, camera at the ready in anticipation of a test flight, I watched the owlet for 30 minutes.

                            Of course, as soon as I relaxed my grip, the owlet took off, and, like its sibling, was unable to sustain its course and came crashing down in the pond, not very far from where I was. Looking rather bored and sad, it posed for a series of shots.

  




Mama owl was anxiously watching from above, and the owlet soon waddled off to an area where I could not see it, maybe looking for a chance to climb a tree like its sibling!

Two days later, I spotted the third owlet in a tree. No misadventures recorded. I also noted that all three owlets were safely perched in trees, waiting for the moment when they would fly as far as they dared, away from the voyeur photographer. 

This was the last photo I took of Mama and, not wanting to overstay my welcome at the property, I never returned.

My thanks to the patient property owner for giving me such an opportunity to get these photos!