It was a magical time in my backyard for two weeks this past summer. One August morning I walked out the back door just at dawn to meet a friend for a “beat the heat” walk, when suddenly two birds fluttered off the tops of feeder poles. They weren’t exactly small birds, but they weren’t very large, either.
“Owls!” was all I could conclude from that momentary glimpse. Since they were small, my first thought was of screech owls, and since they’d looked a bit rumpled, they struck me as fledglings, recently emerged from their nest hole, wherever it was.
Over the next two weeks the owlets, sometimes three of them, appeared several times, often dozing during the day in a hackberry tree, barely visible among the leaves. Several times I followed the commotion made by catbirds and cardinals, two species that were hyper-vigilant about the owls, to find one or two of the screeches in other trees.
One morning as I walked through the backyard a catbird flew in to perch on the arbor, screeching and screaming while staring at a honeysuckle shrub. “Oh, come on, catbird,” I remember thinking, “a screech owl isn’t going to be hiding in a bush.” But just then a screech owlet flew out of the honeysuckle and landed in a nearby tree.
But after some two weeks of enjoying glimpses of the young owls, they moved off and weren’t seen again.
One thing I love about the world of birds and bird-watching is the serendipity factor, how one thing often leads to another. About a week after I last saw the young screech owls, out of the blue came an e-mail from a woman in Florida — while doing online research on her own backyard screech owls she’d run across an older column of mine that mentioned this species.
“We had four fledglings this spring and summer and it was a treat to see them flying around,” wrote Fran Kugel, who sent along a photo of two of the owlets. The Kugels knew they had an owl pair in the backyard areca palms, and then began noticing four youngsters flying from tree to tree at dusk as they preyed on the plentiful chameleon lizards. She couldn’t catch a photograph of them, until one day when she was cleaning up palm fronds and had a feeling she was being watched.
“I looked up and there they sat, watching me intensely,” Kugel said, noting that she captured them with her cellphone camera.