May 24, 2025
Aw, they grow up so fast! All three screech owlets have left the nesting box and are roosting in a nearby live oak. One owlet hangs out on a low branch, next to its parent. When it’s tired, it rests its head on the branch, splayed out like a tired pup on the floor.
Its siblings prefer to roost in the upper canopy, where they’re harder to see from the ground. Here’s #2.
And here’s #3 — looking like it is vocalizing, but it’s panting. On these hot 97 F days, the owls stay cool by fluttering their throats and panting.
The three owlets have had adventures on their journey to independence. I’ve watched them practice their skills, fluttering from one tree to another and tottering as they tightrope-walk on high branches.
One night, an owlet fluttered to the ground, which I saw out of the corner of my eye. A rustling in the Turk’s cap confirmed an owl was on the ground. One of the parents, hidden in the dark, suddenly barked like a dog — yip yip! — a sound I hadn’t heard and didn’t recognize for the warning it was. It made its feelings clearer by swooping over my head while snapping its beak — clack clack! Message received. I retreated to the porch, giving the owls more space while baby climbed a tree to safety.
Another evening, while it was still light, I spotted an errant owlet climbing a tree. It had evidently been on the ground moments before. But it was making good progress, using its beak, talons, and wings to scramble up the trunk. In no time it was safely perched again.
That face! I will miss them when they’re gone.
I’m not sure this black-crested titmouse feels the same way.
Screech owls prey on small songbirds, but the titmouse seemed aware that the owls had vacated the box.
They were probably watching him though, just like me.
A few more shots of mom or dad, panting, and a tuckered out owlet
Doesn’t he look like a bored teenager?
Naptime
Home tree
Mom or dad preparing to hunt as the sun goes down
While owl-watching one evening, I was alerted to the presence of another baby by a soft rustling. A fawn was resettling itself in the foundation bed.
It lay down, waiting for its mother to return from browsing someone else’s plants. Little Bambi sampled a few of mine, but nothing here is very tasty to deer, not even brand-new curious ones.
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