The New Owl

I feel compelled to share a recent visit from the new owl to the Back Forty.  He is brazen and  fearless.  He has found himself a school of shimmering goldfish that is within his reach--morning and evening meals.  There is only one problem:  a netting across the pond.  He has bounced on the netting like it was a trampoline.  It should break any time, right?

This owl has had to endure the chase from large noisy crows and a slew of smaller birds that have joined the chase:  not in my backyard, you don't.  The birds in the neighborhood are ganging up on him; they are mobbing him.  They do not want this owl to steal their eggs or their peeps.

When the owl comes without entourage, he makes no noise.  His wings do not make any sounds, no swooshing is heard.  I only notice him when a movement in the trees catches my attention.  He wants to rest and spend the day sleeping, undisturbed, somewhere in a treetop.

This owl may not have a mate; we have never heard him call or his calls have been too low for our ears.  He is different from the owl that have visited before:  he is not quite as hulky, smaller.

It is no doubt in my mind that he knows us.  Good heavens, he has seen us more times than we have seen him.  He has observed us and he knows our habits when we are outside.

The other night, just as dusk was falling, my husband went out to feed the goldfish.  He called me before he reached the small pond.  What?  What?  He told me about the owl sitting on the PVC pipes that holds the netting.

I got my camera and approached the pond.  The owl was watching me and he was watching my husband. I've got you guys in my sight, he seemed to convey.  Most of all, he was keeping an eye on the goldfish.in the pond.

My husband got close enough to throw in a handful of fish food but the owl left silently before the second helping was tossed.  He didn't fly too far, he was still watching our movements,  I was sure.

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