|These eyes don't miss much.|
My first clue that we had company was a high-pitched squeal in the yard that translated roughly, "I'm being murdered." I've heard it before and it was likely a small rabbit. The perpetrator had to be a raptor, and when I slid open my window for a look, a Great-horned Owl (GHO) took flight from the ground just outside my office.
|Yep, everything ok back there, too.|
Last evening when it was almost too dark to take more pictures he moved to the very top of a flimsy, 20-foot fir, from which he could strike the ground fast. I hope he dined well last night on rodents, of which we have too many in our garden. In recent years voles have really tested our ability to grow vegetables.
|Calculating the odds of a kill.|
My best clue to their presence is the racket of other birds trying to drive them away or, as happened yesterday, the last cry of a rodent that was careless or oblivious.
The beauty of these birds never ceases to move me. They live alongside us mostly unseen, most of the time. Yet whenever Bubba comes to visit for a day or to stay the night in our yard, he makes my heart glad.