We refer to our spotted owl sites by the name of the canyon they have historically frequented. For example we have sites by the names of Dark Betsy, George Washington, Flume, and Perk; all named by their respected canyons. One site is Calrton, and the pair of owls that live there we lovingly refer to as Carlos and Carlita. They are an easy pair to find, as they are most eager to accept our little mousy appetizers. One site, however, has not been so easy. The little tricksters at Flume know the game so well, they have been privy to an unheard of nine little mice nibblers, and we still haven’t been able to locate the nest.
The first time we went in search of the pair, we located the male who was hootin’ and hollerin’ so spastically we thought he might have been a subadult schizo. He eagerly accepted the mice offerings, while continuing to hoot even with his mouth all stuffed. It was quite amusing to hear the muffled 4-note; I guess his mother never taught him that it is rude to talk with your mouth full. One of the mice let out a little squeak as it was lifted away by the great talons of the owl, and Elliot decided to name that one Squeakers. Elliot has since named all our mice Mickey Mouse to the x powers. I don’t think he really even knows which mouse is which, names are just based on the order in which they are sacrificed (totally twisted, I know).
The second time we went it was a daytime follow-up. Stephanie and I hiked along the drainage at five in the morning, and as we were about to make our way up to the historic nest site, we heard the male again only a few meters away from us. Actually, what we heard first was some strange noise that sounded kinda like an owl; it was in the tone of an owl, but in a completely foreign cadence. I curiously did a soft 4-note to see if this creature would respond to it; and almost immediately, from a different direction, came the clear and familiar territorial 4-note of the male again. I’m not sure if he was responding to me or this other strange creature of the night (possibly the female?). We made our presence known to the male and he began to quiet down in the drainage, as if knowing what was to follow: tasty little mouse morsels. While we were awaiting sunrise, we heard a grunting not far from where we were by the creek. A bear, perhaps, or maybe a feral pig, we wondered. The mysterious beast never revealed itself and we continued to wait.
The sun began to stretch out its arms and warm the darkened sky with colors of marigolds and poppies, and the owl sat waiting patiently in an aspen with his head cocked towards us in anticipation. His eyes grew heavy with each passing moment, but he was still alert enough to receive a midnight snack as we set the first unsuspecting mouse offering out for him. We were barely able to get the mouse out on a limb, when the owl pounced on the prey within moments. I know it sounds sick, but mousing the owls is probably my most favorite part of the job. The owl swoops in beside you, revealing all its outstretched spotted beauty, silent as you never heard, and seemingly unafraid. He pauses for a moment as he reaches his prey, looks you straight in the eye, then pushes itself off the branch and returns to his roosting tree. He will then do one of three things: 1) eat the mouse, 2) cache the mouse for later, or 3) bring the mouse to a nest. The latter is what we’re hoping for so that we may find out if a pair is reproducing for the year. And if the third option is the case, it is quite the game of tag to follow the owl as it effortlessly swoops up and down drainages as we must clumsily run after it with exasperated breath.
Well, like I said, this little trickster knows the drill. Three mice were offered; one was eaten and two were cached. The owl was so enthusiastic to snatch up our offerings that it nearly swooped down on Stephanie’s head with eagerness as she was putting them out on limbs. It is procedure to offer four mice to establish nesting status. The owl must then bring the mice to the nest to verify whether a pair is nesting. I do not think, however, that this owl can be trusted to do the predictable thing. Since he is familiar with the procedure, he will get as many mice out of us as he can without revealing much at all. He has yet to expose even the location of the female, let alone any nest if there happens to be one. But, protocol is protocol, and Stephanie goes to fetch the fourth mouse. “It’s dead,” she tells me. “Well, I guess we should still try,” I respond. She takes out the fourth mouse, dead maybe from the cold or who knows, and attempts to place it on a branch. As you may figure, a dead mouse doesn’t really cling to much, and Stephanie tries several times to get the mouse to stay on the branch but he just keeps on bouncing off. It was actually quite amusing. Finally, Stephanie manages to get the deceased mouse to stay put and we make kissy mouse sounds to try to interest the owl. Often times an owl will not have interest in a dead mouse, and although it takes several minutes, this owl finally accepts this final mouse, which he caches. So, according to protocol, it would be safe to assume this male wasn’t nesting; but we’re still not convinced.
Stephanie and I return a third time to the nest site. We go a little early to investigate the nest, see if there are any clues that would reveal activity, comb the trees for owls and the base of the trees for scat and pellets; but we find nothing. We wait until twilight to begin calling from the nest site and soon the male flies up from the drainage to where we are. He’s waiting for us to feed him. This time we have brought nothing, prepared only to follow him wherever he goes. After a while, the male shoots up near the top of a tree, near the old nest tree and we hear what sounds like an orgy of owls. Crazy monkey owl noises, unlike anything I’ve ever heard, sound out. Is it two, three, or four owls? We cannot tell, definitely at least three we decide. They fly around crazily in all directions, making it difficult to follow them, especially as darkness begins to bleed into the sky like ink. It is hard to know whether the female was there the entire time, or whether she flew in from somewhere, as she has been quiet every visit. We know this for sure, the male has flown in from the direction of the drainage every visit, which raises my suspicions as to whether the pair is even roosting here at all this year or just coming in because we are here with our snack bar of mice. Very soon, the owls fly off to another ridge and the sky is silent again as we are unable to keep up with three separate owls in the dead of night.
We have returned once more, this time with mice, in hopes of trying to mouse the female. She would surely take the mice to a nest, if she has one. Like the last time, the male flew up from the drainage at dusk. We offered the mice and followed him all around. Finally, the female revealed herself, appearing to have flown in from the drainage as well. We tried to mouse the female, but it was obvious she was leaving it up to the male to do the work. We waited for the male to take the mice somewhere important, but he quickly cached them and returned for more. The female flew off to a big tree and then flew down the drainage. When it was obvious we weren’t offering anymore mice, the male flew down the drainage as well.
A real hypothesis was beginning to form in my head; that these owls are not even roosting on the same ridge that we have been frequenting. Larry says that this pair has always been tricky. He says that last year they didn’t know the pair was even nesting until near the end of the season when suddenly three fledglings were found. He also said that my hypothesis is very likely as previously this pair had a nest along a different ridge, but that tree had died so they moved to another tree. Perhaps they had found a new nest tree near their old nest site this year. We are going to go in once more with all our forces and try to corner these weasels. We’ll place four people along the area of the drainage in four corners, have someone do call points from the bottom of the drainage, and hopefully pinpoint where these two are roosting or potentially nesting. It’s just so hard because the female is pretty quiet every time, and the male flies in to wherever we are calling. Suggestions anyone?
6/3/2010: UPDATE! We found the little rascals! I called in all the forces; five of us went out tonight. I went to an area where fledglings were found in 2008. Laura and her visiting boyfriend, who also does spotted owl surveys, went down an unexplored drainage that forked from the main drainage. Stephanie explored the south part of the drainage, and Elliot made his way in the direction of the 2009 nest site.
As Elliot was on his way towards his designated spot, he heard the male near the drainage. I reminded him that he often does that when people are around just to get mice. Not long after, though, he heard the female! No way, how dare she! Then he moused them and the male took the mouse right to the new nest, which had at least one chick! I can’t believe it! I bring out all these people, and the owls and their new nest are right off the drainage and found within moments. Sheesh!
