Every Picture Tells a Story 2
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Bird sounds! Baby bird sounds!
Almost every Spring, the Great Horned Owls return to repair and remodel the nests they have occupied since before we can remember. Our neighboring cypress now stands 50 feet tall and even wider. It has been a first home to many fledglings.
We are fledglings too. We migrated from the big city with a pair of tow-headed babies, mountains of multicolored toddler toys, assorted cat and dog crates (occupied!), cameras and binoculars, the collections and props that accumulate with low-buying power and high hopes. The plan was to camp in our converted horse trailer until we could find our new home in a seller’s market, which we did in 1985.
Fast forward to 2015 for another reunion of the twins on their birthday – October 29 – and to listen for the owls. It has become a family tradition with no active fire pit – we wanted to hear and see and watch without interference. The low sounds of our giggling and reminiscing did not interfere – the midnight “hoo – hoo, hoo, hoo – hoooooo” confirmed that the owls, who typically pair for life, are back for the season, having occupied the old nest before the hawks, herons, and occasional ospreys have returned to do the same.
Now it’s March. Every day at warm-thirty, I return to the picnic table to listen, sketch, enter updates in my journal, and wait. This day is different. This day I am rewarded with the begging and chirping vocalizations of the next generation.
Waiting
Artwork by Patricia WillmottFledglings
Story by Leslie ThompsonBird sounds! Baby bird sounds!
Almost every Spring, the Great Horned Owls return to repair and remodel the nests they have occupied since before we can remember. Our neighboring cypress now stands 50 feet tall and even wider. It has been a first home to many fledglings.
We are fledglings too. We migrated from the big city with a pair of tow-headed babies, mountains of multicolored toddler toys, assorted cat and dog crates (occupied!), cameras and binoculars, the collections and props that accumulate with low-buying power and high hopes. The plan was to camp in our converted horse trailer until we could find our new home in a seller’s market, which we did in 1985.
Fast forward to 2015 for another reunion of the twins on their birthday – October 29 – and to listen for the owls. It has become a family tradition with no active fire pit – we wanted to hear and see and watch without interference. The low sounds of our giggling and reminiscing did not interfere – the midnight “hoo – hoo, hoo, hoo – hoooooo” confirmed that the owls, who typically pair for life, are back for the season, having occupied the old nest before the hawks, herons, and occasional ospreys have returned to do the same.
Now it’s March. Every day at warm-thirty, I return to the picnic table to listen, sketch, enter updates in my journal, and wait. This day is different. This day I am rewarded with the begging and chirping vocalizations of the next generation.