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.
Continue reading One . . . Two-hoo . . . Three…By Brad Marks
Wildlife Intrigued 