I was weeding my hosta bed yesterday evening when a shadow scudding across the ground and the slow whoosh of flapping wings made me look up. The neighborhood barred owl glided over the potting bench and the bird feeders, and landed in the lowest branch of one of the willow oaks by the fence.
This spring he’s feeding three owlets and mother owl, according to my neighbor who can watch the goings on in the nest box via the mini-cam installed last year. With all those mouths to feed, father owl is hunting nearly continuously. Perhaps he needed to get away for a bit, and have a little respite from daddy-owl duties. Whatever the reason, he was content to sit on the tree branch and was undisturbed by my quiet approach.
I thought that by the time I got my camera, he would be gone. But when I returned he was still sitting in the tree, occasionally answering his mate’s concerned call. He let me get these shots before extending his wings and sailing up and over the fence, and back to the nest box.
Such a gift, being blessed by owl’s presence once again.