Over the weekend, I spent an evening sitting outside, watching the owls. To my surprise, I found out that there was not just one owlet, but two!
There is something about being in proximity to something wild - especially a predator - that thrills me. I came face-to-face with a coyote once and it was a moment I will always remember. Going outside at sunset with a pair of binoculars and finding the yellow eyes of an owl staring back at me is such a rush. And to find not one but two babies, recently. . . it was such a treat.
I sat and watched them for about an hour over the weekend. The father owl came and sat, watching them, for a few minutes, then he flew away. Afterwards, the little boy (I've randomly decided that they are a boy and a girl) flew from the tree he was sitting on and landed on the roof of a pole barn, a few hundred feet away.
Watching these sweet little creatures try to fly was hilarious, heart-warming, and adorable. I didn't see the little boy (who I named Sirius) land, but I heard it - a loud crashing sound on the tin roof of the pole barn. When he took his next leap, he literally collided with a juniper tree, getting his wing stuck in the branches for a moment, until he could maneuver himself into a better position.
After that, he and his sister (who I call Lyra), called to each other for a long time. Their calls are so sweet - not a hoot, hoot, as I expected. Little, baby squawks. They called back and forth again and again until little Lyra took her own journey into another tree, making a similarly clumsy landing.
It was such a happy time. The junipers and willows seemed so happy to be able to catch these little owlets and shelter them between jumps. And their parents were, without a doubt, watching them from nearby.
The next night, I went out looking for them, but could not find them. Until I stopped and listened. I heard them calling to one another again, and followed the sound of their calls. Sure enough, coming down a hill, I noticed Sirius sitting on top of a pole, looking over a field, as the sun went down.
I am sad for the day they will leave us, going out on their own to find their own territory. But for now, this summer, a time when they will remain close to their parents, I'll enjoy every second I get to spend with them.