Every bird in the neighborhood was there. The ancient tree seemed to
explode with their turmoil. Birds flew and hopped, chattered and
screamed. Scrub jays squawked as they bounced from limb to limb.
Mockingbirds danced and leaped, while the finches chirped with worry,
never stopping their constant movement in and out among the leaves.
Warblers and bushtits added to the churning din.
It
was quite enough to draw anyone's attention. For one interested in
birds, like me, it was irresistible. This mobbing behavior is the sign
that a predator has been located; in my neighborhood, almost surely a
great horned owl.
Other birds do not condone the presence of
owls. By banding together to mob the larger bird, the neighborhood
improvement committee can sometimes drive it away. If the owl chooses
to turn and shrug, there isn't much the little birds can do physically
to remove it. Still, their persistence must by very annoying, and owls
often flee to less boisterous quarters.
The great horned owl is
our most powerful owl, fully as large and fierce as any hawk. Though
the females are distinctly larger than the males, either is formidable,
as much as two-feet tall and strong enough to carry off a rabbit or
skunk, which, incidentally, is one of its favorite foods.
The
name derives from ear-like feather tufts. But even if you have never
seen this bird, you will recognize the call instantly. This is the
"hoot owl" so familiar from a thousand sound tracks. In flight, it is
told by its huge dark silhouette. Other owls are either ghostly white
or much smaller.
Nests are adopted, not built. Although the owl
may do a bit of nest feathering, they rely on others to build nests for
them. Frequently an old hawks' nest is used. In it, a single brood of
two or three young (rarely as many as five) is raised during the
three-month nesting season.
Great horned owls have adapted well
to man, feeding on the rats which have come with us. Our canyons, parks
and open fields provide spaces in which to forage for other small
mammals and to breed. As long as these places remain undeveloped, these
majestic birds will grace our evenings with their company.
Then,
some day in the future, our grandchildren will be able to marvel when
they come upon a similar riot of songbirds. These, too, will be
objecting to the hushed menace of a drowsing great horned owl, its
stump-like body blended into the browns and grey greens around it. I
like to imagine this future generation sharing my awe as the bird, its
huge wings curling outward, swells to flight. Then, carrying the heavy
body into the quiet air with the ease of a leaf borne on the surface of
a tranquil sea, the wings beat surely and the owl slides quickly out of
sight.