When I was around eight years old, my father, a birdwatcher, got a report from a friend and local ranger that a spotted owl had been spotted. At the time, I didn't understand the significance of this. In fact if given the option, I would have gladly stayed home to work on my summer reading list. Fortunately for me, my brother and I were too young to stay home alone, said my mother, and minutes later I was in the family car headed for Bothe State Park, a short 20-minute drive from my hometown.
At the state park we were joined by my aunt and uncle, the latter a budding birder who I gather is now a big fucking deal in birding circles around his hometown. Following the directions of the ranger, we walked through a forest of Pacific madrone, tanoak, Douglas-fir, and a grove of coastal redwoods. Pileated woodpeckers were busy at work and their anvil-shaped heads pounded the trees relentlessly. The warm afternoon air was heavy with the savory scent of California bay laurel, a smell endemic to the West Coast, and I inhaled deeply.
A needle in a haystack, I mused, as we hiked through the dense forest. But sure enough, a few miles in we rounded a corner and not ten feet away a northern spotted owl sat blinking back at us, just like the ranger said it would. The owl tilted its head and its obsidian eyes regarded me curiously. I got a long, good look at this rare bird before it silently flew off into the shadowy, mossy depths of a Northern California forest.
Shortly thereafter, I became a teenager. Birding became a quaint activity of the past. I acquired more "mainstream" teenage interests as I tried, mostly in vain, to fit in. However, I filed the owl experience away as something special.
Fast forward three decades. Perhaps unsurprisingly, I am now a birdwatcher and I especially enjoy watching owls. I mean, who doesn't enjoy watching owls? They are the gateway bird after all. So, when a friend of mine invited me on a special field trip to observe Dr. Brian Linkhart, the world's leading expert on flammulated owls, collect field data on flam owls, you better believe I dropped everything to join.
The rest of this blog entry is a photo essay from the flam owl trip.
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Below: Looking into prime flammulated owl habitat, a montane aspen/pine/fir forest. Somewhere in the crooked aspen a mother flam owl peaks out of her nest, which is an abandoned northern flicker nest. Also hidden inside the cavity: 3 adorable juvenile owls.
Shortly after we arrived, the mother flew into a nearby Doug-fir tree where she regarded us warily. Thanks, Michelle Puplava for the photo! I am always amazed at how much the plumage of an owl resembles the trees they roost in: great-horned owls and screech owls camouflage so well against gnarly cottonwoods and flammulated owls blend into old-growth Doug-fir trees.
Next, Dr. Linkhart climbed the aspen tree to retrieve the juveniles so that data could be gathered for flam owl research. This aspen looked like it was actively dying and Dr. Linkhart remarked that this would be the last year he would climb that tree.
Below: A student-researcher received the bag of owls, which she declared to be "the best present ever."
She carefully removed the 3 little owlets from the bag.
Another student-researcher prepared for data collection:
Next, each owlet was weighed. The members of this brood were so young that they could not yet stand on their own.
The owls were then banded so that they could be tracked in future years, if re-captured.
Admiring the owlet:
Christi got to hold one of the owlets.
After the owls were banded and data was collected, Dr. Linkhart climbed up the aspen tree again and carefully placed them back in their cavity. Then we packed up and headed to a second nesting site.
Data collection for second brood: the owls here were a few days older and what a difference that made.
They would soon be ready to fledge.
Famous owl and owl paparazzi:
Owl photo bomb:
After sunset we headed back to the first site to attempt to capture the mother and father owls to see if they were banded and to collect more data. With years of experience under his belt and lots of patience, Dr. Linkhart skillfully netted them both by 11 p.m., while we sat on the kinnickinnick carpet of the forest floor observing. He banded the owl that had not been previously banded. Throughout the course of the evening, he patiently explained to us his process, shared his knowledge of flammulated owls, and answered all of our questions. Then we got the once-in-a-lifetime experience of holding a flammulated owl. Be. Still. My heart...❤️
Night owls
(photos: Sheridan Samano)
Owl exchange:
Michelle had the pleasure of releasing the owl into the midnight sky. Safe travels little flam owl! I do hope we meet again.
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