Hooters

In my woods live my owls.

The Great Horned Owl for sure.  Perhaps the American Barn Owl.  And either the Eastern or Western Screech Owl.

The Great Horned Owl

This guy is very large - I have a personal measurement unit:  it's three times the size of a Sweet Hen.  Three times the size of my cat, that is.  My former cat, that is.  My cat which is now a Great Horned Owl (GH).

According to an owl book, it likes "second growth, open woodlands, scrub with rocky areas".  That describes BL to a T.  It eats mammals (rabbits, cats, voles, rats) and birds, reptiles (lizards, gekkos), amphibians (frogs, toads), spiders and insects.

As with almost all owls, the females are larger than the males.  And they live upwards of 28 years.  So I hope mine is around for awhile.

The Hoot:  Owls don't open their bills when they call.  Instead, their whole body gets into it.  Their throat balloons out - and many owls have white throats to catch the attention of other owls.  The GH leans forward with tail up on each syllable.  They are deep, booming hoos, usually between 3 and 5.  And each has their own unique call of syllables, pitch, timbre, etc.

The American Barn Owl

I haven't seen this one yet, but it's likely to be here.  It prefers open countryside with sparse trees, so perhaps BL is too thick with trees for it.  It's food sure is here, though - voles, rats, mice, bats.

It's call is a drawn out tremulous screech.




Speaking of screeches...

 




There is either an Eastern or Western screech owl here as well.  (The photos show a brown eastern and grey western, but either species can vary between brown and grey.)
Their call does sound like a woman screaming far away.  And it was as unmistakeable to me as the coyotes was from a dogs the first time I heard it.  The owl books describes the Eastern call as a "toad-like quavering trill lasting 3-5 seconds, ends abruptly, repeats".  The Western is a "short trill, followed immediately by a longer one", rising then falling again in pitch.  Annoyingly, I can't tell which call I'm hearing, even with these descriptions.

These are smaller than the GH - about Sweet Hen size.  The first one came to visit just after Sweet Hen became the GH.  They eat the same, but smaller things - mammals, birds, reptiles, amphibians, insects.
It was on a juniper branch just about 10 feet from me and my house.  I went out to take a look.  It just stared back at me.  It must not have been alarmed at me, since it didn't adopt the tall-thin stance that so many owls do when threatened. (Sorry- I just spent 5 minutes trying to find a photo of this.. but apparently everyone who photographs owls never make them feel threatened.)

They live a little less as well - only about 20 years for the Eastern and only about 12 years for the Western. (In general, the bigger the owl, the longer it lives.)

They're back!

Last night, the night callers were back!  My theory now is that their calling is temperature related.  I went to bed later than usual two nights ago, when it was so silent.  Last night, I went to bed at my usual (read obscenely-early-for-most-people) time.  And the callers were at it.  When I woke up later in the night, there was silence once more.  So my first idea of them huddling together for warmth was closer to the truth.  Besides, I'm sure they're smart enough not to have gone downtown for a drink on F1 weekend.

On a completely unrelated note, if you have kittens, don't leave your earrings on the nightstand and expect to see them in the morning. Obligatory cute kitten pic.  Obligatory earring shopping this weekend.

Silent Falls

The cold came two nights ago.  Yesterday morning, two great horned owls hooted to each other across warbler canyon.  I say 'to' each other on purpose.  They usually hoot 'at' each other. One hoots.  Then several seconds later, the other hoots back.  And so on.  I read that most hooting is by the males to claim or assert territory.  If they don't hear a hoot back, they've got unclaimed/undisputed territory.  Since I moved in there's been one owl that hoots from my house.  Most of the time, there has been no return hoot.  In the last month, there have been a few days with a return hoot from the other side of the canyon.  They get in a hooting match, and eventually the far hooter hoots no more.  (Perhaps he got hungry or bored and went to Hooters?)

Yesterday morning was different.  Neither of the 2 owls was my usual owl (owls have unique calls).  The one at my house called, and one answered from across the canyon.  Call and response went on as usual for awhile.  What was not usual was that the response owl got closer every time.  Once it was at my house, the 2 of them were hooting on top of each other (literally, but I'm assuming also the double entendre became reality soon after).

(Hey- it just occurred to me - maybe it was 'my' owl calling, but his mating call is different than his territory call.  Makes sense.)

Last night, the second near freezing night, was the first silent night since I've been here in March.  Startlingly silent.  Loud-hum-in-my-ears silent.  No traffic, which was unusual.  But what startled me most was the lack of crickets/katydids/frogs calling.  (I'm not sure what I'm listening to - but surely it's a combination of these things?) Complete silence.  Did they freeze?  Are they dead?  Or did all their calling work, and now they're huddled with their found loved one to keep warm?
Or did they go out for a drink?

It was so silent, we (my cats and I) could hear the deer nibbling my hibiscus.  Usually, I just get the unpleasant surprise in the morning.

I miss that night noise.

First Coyote Sighting

My first coyote sighting began with a squirrel chirping in alarm this morning about 7am.  I've heard that often - mostly when they've spotted my cats looking at them.  But my cats were both napping on the couch this time.  So when they heard the squirrel chirp, they knew it was for some other creature.  They instantly rose on the alert, looked out the window, then ran outside.  Obviously this was something interesting, so I followed their lead.

Coyote!!!  Three of them trotting along. They had called as a pack not more than an hour earlier, before it got light.  I've heard them call many times before, though mostly in the early evening to midnight.  Now I could see them for the first time.  They were darker and bigger than I expected.  I'd been told they're like a small dog on long legs.  But these looked like german shepherds to me.  I've also been told they're solitary, but these three were clearly together. They followed each other on the path and up the hill out of sight.   Not once did they pause and look or smell.

Oh, and for cat-lovers who might be concerned - They ran outside into the screened-in porch.  They weren't in danger of being breakfast.

Cold A Comin'

Sat - 70 heading to 83, no wind, a few clouds
Sun - more humid, overcast, winds pickingup, 70 heading to 83, then a cold front blows in overnight- no rain, hardly any clouds - just cold and windy

This is my first fall here, so I'm interested in seeing the BLeaves of BL.  In October, it was the poison ivy with brilliant yellows then reds.  Then the nandina with deep reds.  Then the shouting yellow of chinaberry- most leaves/branches of which are gone now in early November. (There was also the ugly turning of redbuds and ash - a sad yellow with brown decaying spots.)

Next up, in late October, the nut trees - buckeyes, pecans and walnuts.  Dusty yellows and reds, changing from the interior out that remind me of fireworks.

This trip, the evergreen sumac fruits had turned from green to red.  Here's the sequence of flowers to red berries from early October to early November.

Though keep in mind that on any day in Oct/Nov I see bushes in all three stages.

One of my favorite plants to discover in Texas - Turk's cap.  Here is the flower in October and the fruit in November.

What I see is that the flower is red, then the fruit first grows green, then develops the red again as it matures.  It's red the 2 times it needs the attention of others - flowers ready to polinate and fruits ready to eat and spread the seeds around.

I find the more I know - the more I can name, at least, the more I dismiss what I already know the name of - "Yeah, yeah, more Lindheimer's silk tassle.  Silk tassle.  Silk tassle.  Tassle. tassle. tassle.  Geez, it's everywhere."  But I see it everywhere, precisely because I know what it looks like, and I can name it.

Saturday, we were told it was the time to see orchids, and we all looked, but we didn't see any.  Most likely because we didn't know what to look for.  On Sunday, Bill pointed out the Ladies Tresses Orchid right by the path. (Sorry for the unfocused shot)

And then, just a few yards up the path, I saw another one.  It was easy- I knew what to look for.
Our brains are fantastic pattern-recognition machines!