Owl be seeing you....
When looking for wild rose pictures the other day, I came across my photo of a Pygmy Owl.
It was mid-October 1999 when I heard a strange thunk up against one of my large front windows. It was beyond the regular season of having birds flying full force into windows as if they were part of the scenery as they reflected the brightly lit days of summer. I jumped up to see what had happened, truly puzzled. To my great surprise there was a tiny owl sitting on my deck looking stunned.
Forty years here in Alaska and I had never seen an owl. There they were in my book, "Guide to the Birds of Alaska," saying some of them are pretty common to here in the southeast, but I never had the pleasure of seeing one in the wild. Now I was a couple of feet away from a tiny owl, which at the time I mistook for a baby. It was only later I found in my book that it is a 'Northern Pygmy-Owl' (Glaucidium gnoma). It is even listed as 'Uncommon' in the book's rating of potential sightings.
It is extra special to see a bird rated anything other than 'Common' for those of us who get thrill out of viewing birds. I am a total amateur at it; not knowing how to organize a mental picture of key, identifying marks on generic little brown birds. Typically I end up in a mad rush to my bird book while my pixels of memory start disintegrating by the second as I try to hang onto the image of the size, color and general silhouette of the bird I just saw in my yard. After flipping through several pages, it ends up being one of about 6 or so possibilities. I write of sightings in my scrappy, paperback bird-book and it is full of many question marks along with dates and places. In the page- flipping aftermath of the event, this owlette was definitely a Northern Pygmy…AND "Uncommon."
So after running to the window and seeing this quizzical looking little thing and uttering, shit, I dashed to get my camera. At the same time I was horrified that it might have gotten injured. Regardless, it wouldn't hurt to take a picture and then attend to it if needed. I practically floated down the hall to where my camera was and tore it out of its bag. Fortunately it was loaded and ready to shoot-I dashed back to the window and peered down; it was still there.
It was facing right when I got to back but had not moved. I was in awe to see the smooth, perfectly designed mechanism that was its neck as it turned back around to face the window. It did not move like the little brown somethings I am used to seeing. This was a predator. Its head/neck seemed to float as it turned with near endless peripheral capabilities. The eyes were enormous in proportion to the head: all the better to see you with my dear…And huge wrinkled yellow talons, so big they looked like something that belonged on a larger bird: all the better to catch you with my dear…This was a scaled down version of a perfect hunting machine.
From the "thunk" to me standing there with my camera in hand staring at this little owlette, maybe a total of 20 seconds had passed. I quickly zoomed in on it through the window and focused. In a divine moment of perfect timing, the little fella gazed directly up at me and my camera; Click. One click and it took off never to be seen by me again.
It was mid-October 1999 when I heard a strange thunk up against one of my large front windows. It was beyond the regular season of having birds flying full force into windows as if they were part of the scenery as they reflected the brightly lit days of summer. I jumped up to see what had happened, truly puzzled. To my great surprise there was a tiny owl sitting on my deck looking stunned.
Forty years here in Alaska and I had never seen an owl. There they were in my book, "Guide to the Birds of Alaska," saying some of them are pretty common to here in the southeast, but I never had the pleasure of seeing one in the wild. Now I was a couple of feet away from a tiny owl, which at the time I mistook for a baby. It was only later I found in my book that it is a 'Northern Pygmy-Owl' (Glaucidium gnoma). It is even listed as 'Uncommon' in the book's rating of potential sightings.
It is extra special to see a bird rated anything other than 'Common' for those of us who get thrill out of viewing birds. I am a total amateur at it; not knowing how to organize a mental picture of key, identifying marks on generic little brown birds. Typically I end up in a mad rush to my bird book while my pixels of memory start disintegrating by the second as I try to hang onto the image of the size, color and general silhouette of the bird I just saw in my yard. After flipping through several pages, it ends up being one of about 6 or so possibilities. I write of sightings in my scrappy, paperback bird-book and it is full of many question marks along with dates and places. In the page- flipping aftermath of the event, this owlette was definitely a Northern Pygmy…AND "Uncommon."
So after running to the window and seeing this quizzical looking little thing and uttering, shit, I dashed to get my camera. At the same time I was horrified that it might have gotten injured. Regardless, it wouldn't hurt to take a picture and then attend to it if needed. I practically floated down the hall to where my camera was and tore it out of its bag. Fortunately it was loaded and ready to shoot-I dashed back to the window and peered down; it was still there.
It was facing right when I got to back but had not moved. I was in awe to see the smooth, perfectly designed mechanism that was its neck as it turned back around to face the window. It did not move like the little brown somethings I am used to seeing. This was a predator. Its head/neck seemed to float as it turned with near endless peripheral capabilities. The eyes were enormous in proportion to the head: all the better to see you with my dear…And huge wrinkled yellow talons, so big they looked like something that belonged on a larger bird: all the better to catch you with my dear…This was a scaled down version of a perfect hunting machine.
From the "thunk" to me standing there with my camera in hand staring at this little owlette, maybe a total of 20 seconds had passed. I quickly zoomed in on it through the window and focused. In a divine moment of perfect timing, the little fella gazed directly up at me and my camera; Click. One click and it took off never to be seen by me again.
posted by Laurie at
7:52 PM
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