Owl Hunting

It was a dark and sleeting night, and I was a woman on a mission.  Intent on getting up the slippery road safely, I almost missed the dark shape on my right.  It contrasted against the fading sky and didn't register until I had almost passed it.

Was that a bird sitting on that wire?  I only had time to take one quick glance before I had passed it.  My brain instantly ran the calculations.  It was big.  Too big to be a hawk.  Too rounded to be an eagle.  Owl?

I hesitated for a fraction of a second - should I go back and look?

There was no good place to turn around, I could not see well in the sleet and dark, and more to the point - I did not have my camera with me.  I had an appointment to keep, and so I kept on driving.  I hated leaving it behind without knowing for sure. However, I was excited, because I rarely ever see owls.  I told my family all about it.  (Somehow they just weren't as excited about it as I was!)

Driving the same route Monday morning, there it was again - sitting on the same wire.  My heart jumped and I felt pulled toward it - but alas - no camera!  I don't like leaving my camera in my car due to the extreme heat and cold but oh how I regretted my decision at that moment!  I had an actual pain in my heart and I felt a sense of loss for the photo I could have gotten.  I would probably never have a chance like this again - to potentially photograph an owl.  I've been photographing birds for over two years now, and never had the opportunity.  They are reclusive birds and I had rarely ever even seen one before.

I was three minutes from home.  I could rush home, get my camera, and come back!  Yes!  I would do it!  But then I looked at the clock.  Ugh!  No time!  I had to be at work.  I drove away with a longing in my heart and ruminated melancholically on the owl all day.  I told some of my friends about it, but they mostly just looked at me quizzically.

You can bet where I was on Tuesday morning.  I staked out that wire and the little field that was the owl's smorgasbord of mice, voles, and shrews.  Like a detective, I sat patiently in my car, camera ready, to get a shot of my mark.  But he was a no show.  The most I garnered that day were the strange looks of the neighbors passing by me as they left on their morning commutes.  I should get a window sticker that says "Birder" so people don't think I'm a creeper of some kind!

Tuesday night - nothing.  Wednesday morning, and Wednesday night - nada.  Thursday morning I drove past the point and saw no owl anywhere.  Bummer.

I went up the road and turned around and came back.  And there he was, the same bird on the same wire!

I did check for traffic, I promise you, but I pulled off the road and into the end of someone's drive with great alacrity nevertheless.  My usual reticence at bothering someone or drawing attention to myself went out the door.  I was so excited!

This was my chance!  I didn't want to waste a moment or he might fly away.  I had to force myself to put the car in park and turn off the engine.  I coached myself, saying, "Put the keys in your pocket" because I really just wanted to leave them dangling in the ignition and race to the bird.  That would not have been good!

I did pocket the keys, but I never even shut the door.  I slid quietly out of the car, not wanting to startle the owl away with any sudden movements or noise.  I stood and scanned the wire.

No owl.

I refused to believe he was not there.  This was my owl.  This was my chance!  I looked again, but did not see him.  I scanned the wire with my zoom lens but still did not see him.

I would have been sad but I had too much adrenalin pumping through me at this point to even be able to feel sad.  And I know myself.  I don't see well in the first place.  He might still be there, and I just couldn't see him.  I photographed the wire anyway.  You never know what you will find when you examine a photo up close on a digital screen.

I took a few steps along the road.  The trees behind the wire melted away as I walked up the hill, and my angle to the wire changed.  There he was, against the clear sky!

With great abandon I shot photo after photo.  Cars whizzed past but they were only on the periphery of my consciousness.  It was just me and that owl.  He was big, and he was beautiful!

He was so far away and the light was not yet full, so I knew I was not getting very good shots, but I kept clicking away anyway.  (That's my motto - always take the shot.)  I am an optimist, and I knew that every moment meant more and more sunlight would be helping light up the pictures.

I can't fully explain the moment when I first see a creature come into sharp focus in my viewfinder, but it is powerful and very addicting.  I can tell you that at such moments, I have been known to talk to myself about the beauty of the bird or animal I am photographing as I capture it in digitized form.  There is a joy for me in seeing one of God's beautiful creations up close and in such great detail.  I sometimes laugh out loud with the pleasure of it.  It is a marvel to me, and that is part of what I am always trying to share in this blog.

There was a muddy hill with a culvert between the owl and I, so I could not approach him directly with any ease, and if I had, I would have been much lower and my angle for shooting would have been worse.  Besides, approaching birds directly often scares them away.  Not a good idea.

I stayed a few minutes and the owl eventually dropped off the wire and sailed along the treeline, eventually perching on a tree way across the meadow from me.

I was thrilled to be able to photograph him on his second perch.

Then it was time to go.  I came back to the real world and realized that I needed to move along or I would be late to work.  I bid the owl goodbye and walked back to my car.

Just then, the owner of the driveway where I had parked opened his garage door and brought his trash can out to the curb.  I felt like one of those crazy birders you read about in birding books that create driving hazards and stand in the middle of roadways in order to catch their prey.  "I've become THAT crazy bird lady," I thought to myself.

I smiled at the homeowner and hoped I looked relatively harmless to him.  I explained that I had seen an owl and had pulled over to photograph it.  He said that was fine, and then said, "An owl, huh?"  He waved toward the field behind his house and said, "Go ahead" but I explained I was done and he nodded.

I carefully backed my car out into the road and drove off, with the treasure I had obtained in the memory card of my camera, and in my heart - my first owl.