The Owl Checks In

So just who is reading my blog? Yesterday I found out. 

Come here often?

Apparently this barred owl read my last post about the bountiful food supply in my backyard "Peaceable Kingdom": he showed up in broad daylight yesterday, swooped down for a quick snack in the leaves, then proceeded to park himself in my red maple, where he graciously posed for these photos (all by Ron - he's good, I'm not).  This was quite a thrill, as neither of us city bumpkins had ever gotten up close and personal with an owl before.  

Just who is the barred owl, and what was he doing out and about in the middle of the day?  Time to consult owlpages.com. 

First things first.  He's a killer, unlike the cosmetically-challenged turkey vulture of my last post.  Mainly he eats voles, shrews, and mice, but in a pinch he will also eat moles, rats, squirrels, rabbits, lizards, salamanders, frogs, beetles, grasshoppers - in other words, anything he can sink those enormous claws into. He (or possibly she - the two sexes look similiar) begins nesting in late February, and that's probably why we spotted him - owls are out and about in daylight primarily during nesting season.  His call, recorded here, supposedly sounds like "Who cooks for you, who cooks for all?"  He did not favor us with a performance. 

The barred owl surveying his lunch choices from a high perch in my back yard.

Making a bird-friendly garden was always a goal of mine.  But I have to admit I was thinking cardinal or goldfinch, not owl.  Obviously some gardeners do think owls, though, or they wouldn't sell owl nesting boxes.  From the looks of the boxes, I'd say they are intended for smaller varieties; at 16 to 25 inches tall, the barred owl is a big boy, and couldn't possibly squeeze into any of these houses.  

Where's Waldo? The owl's coloring helps him blend in and avoid annoying suburban photographers.

I confess I found the owl's visit strangely validating.  After moving to North Carolina, I reluctantly - very reluctantly - embraced the "work with nature, not against it" school of gardening.  Deep in my heart, I wanted a different kind of back yard (you know, a nice one) but quickly learned that was out of the question under the soggy circumstances.  So I planted tough, wet-tolerant plants, dubbed the yard "rustic," and consoled myself with the abundant frog population.  Now I learn that the back yard I've been cursing for the past 8 years - a swamp adjacent to a forest - is also the perfect habitat for the barred owl.  


Score another one for Nature.