One . . . Two-hoo . . . Three…By Brad Marks

With bittersweet feelings I can report that Linda and I are back from this year’s second migration to the southwest. I’ll miss southeast Arizona having found a number of new incredible birding location and Vegas, well that holds a special place in our hearts. With that said, it is good to be home even it means long days of getting the homestead ready for summer. Unfortunately, there is no way to just click our heels and wake up home – the haul back is a drain and we are both exhausted (admission, Linda has to do most of the driving due to her vertigo so it is definitely harder on her). While we recover, Brad is going to take us on an adventure in a completely opposite direction to our recent trek. His featured species actually holds a sad place in my heart due to an unfortunately incident with a local favorite I used to greet on my way to work every day (I’ll forego that link). He has a much better experience!

Take it away Brad…

Let me set the stage for you.  It’s mid-February in South Carolina.  Jan and I were at the Savannah Wildlife Refuge visitor center.  The outside air temperature is about 40 degrees warmer than at home, but it is still only about 40 degrees Fahrenheit.  You can do the math for how cold it might have been where we live.  I had gloves on, so feeling the tiny control buttons on the camera were a challenge.  I am very used to being able to navigate the buttons for focus point movements, ISO settings, partial shutter release, etc.  Gloves take away all of that sensitive feel.  My nose was cold and my breath was condensing into little clouds.  But here we are, walking around looking for birds to photograph.

Jan had wandered ahead of me but taken a different fork in the path than I did.  We can hear the traffic on the state highway a couple hundred yards away through the leafless trees.  Did I mention my toes are already cold and I’ve only been walking about 15 minutes.  The Visitor Center wasn’t open yet; it opens at 10am.

As I wandered around, looking for birds I happened on a standing tree trunk that had seen better days.  I noticed a very large knot hole near the top and thought that would be a perfect place for an owl nest.  A few feet away from me was a sign post with a small sign on top.  The sign said “Barred Owl” and nothing more.  At least that’s how I remember it because I didn’t take a photo.  As I was staring at the hole for a couple of minutes, willing the owl to come out (not even knowing if there was an owl inside or not), I had the feeling I was being watched.  I turned around expecting to see Jan waving me over for a bird find, but she wasn’t there.  Instead, it was I that was being watched.

Who dost thou stare in my direction? Hit thy jump to reveal.

I saw a large lump in a tree and remember thinking that it was awfully low branch for a squirrel to build a nest.  The sun, in the heavy overcast, was directly in front of me, or behind the lump, at this point.  As my eyes adjusted to the bright grey sky, the lump materialized into this guy.

At first, I couldn’t believe my eyes.  Not 25 feet away from me, and about 10 feet off the ground, was a Barred Owl (Strix varia).  This owl isn’t a +1 for me, but this is the closest I’ve been to one with a camera in my hand.  Jan and I have Barred Owls all over the woods where we live.  We hear them in the early predawn morning and late in the evening.  We see them perching on our satellite dish, or on the bird feeder poles, looking to swoop down to catch a snack during late afternoon sun.  Jan and I see or hear them all of the time (and their Great Horned cousins), just never with a camera at hand.

The owl seemed to be staring directly at me.  I could tell it wasn’t getting anxious about me being so close because it had several really long blinks.  Mr. Owl was probably hoping this new distraction would go away so it could catch some brunch.  Or it was wondering how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Tootsie Pop.  I raised the camera to my eye as quickly as possible trying not to startle the owl.  It didn’t seem to care at all.  Part of me was hoping for a “Who cooks for you” hoot, but the owl was being verbally stingy.

Realizing I was trying to photograph a subject nearly perfectly backed by the sun, I tried changing my point of view to move the sun in the background.  No good, too many trees in the way.  The only option remaining was to try to make the f-stop as small as possible in hopes of being able to tease detail out of the shadows later in the digital darkroom.  At one point I think I was well into the f/20 range.  Of course, my eyes could see the heavily barred breast feathers, the yellow beak and those large all-knowing eyes.  The camera was not quite as lucky.  Thankfully, Lightroom has some great tools for getting details from the shadows.  BTW, if any of our readers have a great process, or even a good one at this point, for salvaging images that are horribly backlit (without using a fill flash or a reflector), please leave your suggestions in the comments.  The new-ish capability of masking in Lightroom (new compared with Photoshop’s decades long masking capability) was a humongous help with these photos.  At this point, knowing I would be making lots of changes to camera settings, I took off my gloves so I could feel the buttons.  After carefully stuffing the gloves in my pockets, I started firing away at the owl.

This Barred Owl was very patient with me for several minutes, then something tasty caught its attention in a tree a bit further away.  Off it flew.  I tracked its path through the trees and saw that it ended up landing about 100 feet away at the edge of the clearing with a better view of the grassy area. 

The owl didn’t seem to like this perch much better, because within a minute it had flown to a further location I could not see. 

Barred Owls almost always live near forests or woods that are near water, according to the All About Birds website.  They hunt many types of small animals including:  mice, voles, chipmunks, rabbits, some birds, reptiles, amphibians, etc.  If they can catch something and carry it, it’s probably going to get eaten.  Barred Owls hunt by sitting on a high perch and waiting.  They scan their surroundings with their fantastic eyes and ears.  This one realized I was off the menu and kept scanning.  Owls have been known to wade in shallow water to catch fish or crayfish.  A friend of mine, Steve, had his goldfish pond raided continuously by owls.  The local DNR said that doesn’t happen and that owls don’t exhibit those behaviors.  Then Steve showed the DNR agent a video of the owl eating his ornamental goldfish while standing in the pond.  The local DNR believes him now, but he’s still out several koi goldfish.

Nests are most often in a natural cavity in a large tree.  They will also build on top of platforms, or re-decorate nests built by other large birds.  No one really knows if it is the male or the female that chooses the nest site up to a year in advance.  A mated pair will incubate 1-5 eggs for about a month.  Nestlings are tended for another month before working to feed themselves.

Most birds recognize Barred Owls as predators.  Songbirds, crows and woodpeckers will gang up on an owl, if necessary, to chase it away.  The most dangerous predator for a Barred Owl, ironically, is a Great Horned Owl which goes after Barred Owl eggs, hatchlings, or even adult birds.

Barred Owls are of Low conservation concern.  Their population actually increased by 1% in the past 50 years.

Right about then, Jan rounded the corner where the two paths converged.  I realized how chilly my fingers were so we headed into the Visitor Center for a warm-up and a park map.

Thank you for reading.  No Tootsie Pops were harmed in writing this story.  If you want to see more Barred Owl photos, please visit here.

Credits

Thanks again to Jan for proofreading and editing.