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! 

Barred Owls Return

Last year in May, a Barred Owl family was featured in this blog. On a foggy April morning this year, my wife and I returned to the woods and she spotted a lone Barred Owl quietly perched in a tree.

I swear I heard the owl say, "Oh, no! It's the paparazzi from last year." For the next six weeks I made frequent visits expecting to see another owl family in one of the many trees or at least see more than this one owl.

Each time I arrived, the owl seemed uninterested in my presence, although I guarantee it watched me closely and was ready to bolt if necessary.

Every so often, the owl closed its eyes, and I thought it was dozing off in a condescending gesture. It was very insulting. I wanted the owl to fly so that I could get a more exciting photo, but it refused to cooperate.

Then, one day after sitting in my car for about 45 minutes, I saw the owl stare intently in my direction, black eyes wide open, and I thought, "Finally, the owl was fascinated by me!"

Wrong again.

Suddenly, in a quiet burst of energy, it shot from its perch and came directly toward my car, and I realized then that Barred Owls hate Toyotas!

It swooped over the hood of my car and attacked something in the brush just beyond where I was parked. I jumped out of the car hoping to get a "kill shot" but the owl reacted quickly and flew up and away to a nearby tree, a possible photo obscured by the many small branches.

I had given up hope that I would see a second owl, but then a few days later I spotted this owl, a more mature looking, handsome creature, perched in a tree located above a nearby pond.

So now I knew that the two owls were probably a nesting pair and there might be a few owlets that will make an appearance soon. I'll keep watching...I'm retired.

Red-tailed Hawk

You might have noticed an increased number of Red-Tailed Hawks  in your area lately. I certainly have, and I've taken advantage of their presence by subjecting them to what amounts to an invasion of their privacy.

The Red-Tailed Hawk is a raptor of a size between a crow and a goose. It weighs an average of 2 1/2 lbs. and has a wingspan of about four feet.

It has the capability of attacking and killing small pets weighing 5 lbs., so keep your dog, Fluffy, close at all times.

Trivia question for those of you who are MENSA members: "Why is the hawk called a Red-Tailed Hawk?"

      The hawk's talons have a gripping power of 200 PSI (pounds per square inch) and the talons are always on-duty, i.e., it has to relax its grip in order to open the claws, whereas humans have to tighten their grip in order to make a fist.

Note the three talons in front and one in rear. The rear talon is longer than the others and is used to pierce the prey and puncture organs.
  

The Red-Tailed Hawks seem to be everywhere in our area this season, and they sometimes include nesting pairs as shown in the photo at left, taken on Wauwatosa Road in Mequon.

          This photo speaks for itself.


















The next few images relate the story of an (apparently) juvenile Red-Tailed Hawk who hunted Easter weekend at our condo area. I sat in my car taking photos the entire weekend, taking advantage of the hawk's daily appearance near our retention ponds.

It looked to me like it was a young hawk, judging from its size and markings, but as you will see it didn't lack courage.

One morning, a noticeably larger hawk (possibility a parent) confronted our hero. Notice the difference in amount of markings on its chest.

Displaying its size, the intruder tried intimidation to no avail.

The larger hawk departed with a flourish, leaving our hero with an inflated opinion of its own power.

The next day, I watched the hawk fly quickly to our pond and attack something it spied along the bank. It surprised me because I didn't think Red-Tailed Hawks typically dove into water like eagles or ospreys.

Look closely and you'll see a black tail rise out of the water to the left of the hawk. The hawk struggled with this prey and my best guess was that it was a muskrat that lives in our pond.

In this photo, you'll see a dark object that seemed to be part of the prey and it's obvious that maybe our hero chose a lunch that refused to go quietly.

With bugles blaring to announce the arrival of the pond cavalry, our resident Canada Goose, Groucho, attacked the hawk, mistakenly assuming it was a threat to Gertie, the female goose sitting on its nest at the opposite end of the pond.

This signaled the end of the struggle for the hawk as it slowly made its way to the safety of the dry land.

Once it was on land, I noticed the blood on the right foot of our hunter. It walked around the area and sat for a while before realizing that it just wasn't his day.

The blood was still visible on the hawk's foot but didn't seem to hinder its ability to fly.

Our hero flew immediately to the top of a nearby fir tree and it was comforting to see that it seemed to be in fairly good shape. I wondered if the muskrat had bitten the foot of the hawk and hoped that the damage was minimal.

Epilogue: A week after this incident I spotted what I believe to be our hawk perched in a nearby tree and when he few away there was no evidence of any physical impairment.