Category Archives: Owls

Nick the Owl Finder Strikes Again!

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When you’re a birder, nothing ever goes according to plan. For example, if you slog through a draw to find a Long-eared Owl, you’re more likely to see a flock of Bohemian Waxwings, or your state’s first record of a Red-flanked Bluetail, or a moose, or anything that is not a Long-eared Owl.

The plan on Sunday, February 10th was to sleep in. Instead, my dad shook me awake at seven in the morning (which I guess is technically sleeping in, but still).

“Nick found a Great Gray and a Barred at Maclay Flats! We have to go!”

Only an owl can get me out of bed early on a weekend!

I groaned and rolled out of bed, and within minutes we rumbled down the road in my dad’s Forerunner, dodging the potholes who tried to swallow us. The plan was to go the speed limit, but as I said earlier, things never go according to plan.

We reached Maclay in record time, and I texted Nick, asking for details. He responded quickly, providing great photos of both owls, and we trekked through the snow-blanketed forest, accompanied only by the occasional chirps of Red Crossbills flying over. As we passed the fields where we had spotted the Northern Pygmy-Owls two years prior, we scanned the bare trees. Nothing.

Then we hit the huge field in the center of Maclay, where Nick had said the Great Gray was hunting. We followed a trail of footsteps around the edge of it, running into another man that my dad knew, and we asked him if he’d had any luck.

When owls prove hard to find, Red-breasted Nuthatches provide entertaining diversion.

“None yet—but I’ve seen owls here before.”

“You heard about the Great Gray and the Barred here, though, right?”

“What? No, I just came out here today.”

Soon, we spotted two other birders on the edge of the field ahead of us, pointing cameras at the top of a Ponderosa.

“That’s a good sign,” said my dad.

We quickened our pace towards them, and I suddenly glanced up to see something I hadn’t seen in four years: a Great Gray Owl. The magnificent predator of the night’s eyes glowed with yellow fire, staring down at all of the peasants who had dared enter its domain. It wasn’t quite as large as I remembered, but then again it perched high on a pine bough.

Politicians spend a lifetime trying to master a Great Gray Owl’s stare!

As we snapped hundreds of photos, Nick suddenly joined us, accompanied by his stepmom and his dad, Phil.

“Nick!” I said, “How do you manage to find all these owls!?”

“Well, we came out looking for the Great Gray and just walked past the tree that the Barred was in. Do you want to see it?”

“Sure!”

Re-locating the Barred proved easier said than done. Nick had discovered the Barred in a spruce, but we trudged through deep snow, unable to find it. After half an hour, Nick finally stopped and pointed into the shaded interior of a tree. The Barred was smaller than the Great Gray, and much less active, as if trying to merge with its dark surroundings. After spending more time watching both owls, we returned to the car, tired, cold and fulfilled. Things definitely hadn’t gone according to plan!

“Just let me sleep!” this Barred was probably thinking, but he didn’t budge from his cozy roost.

Montana Christmas Bird Count #1: Owlservations

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At 9 a.m. on December 15th, my dad and I sat in his truck in the parking lot of DeSmet School. It was the morning of our first Christmas Bird Count of the year, and we were wondering if we had the place and time right. My dad pointed to a blue Prius driving towards us.

“Those look like birders.”

“Yeah, right.” I said as they turned and drove past us.

How many birders can fit into a Subaru? Turns out, the answer is six!

A minute later, though, the Prius reappeared and pulled into our parking lot—I guess they were birders! In a few minutes, four more cars pulled up, and we all got out and introduced ourselves. The leader of the count, Debbie Leick, whose name my dad and I recognized from eBird, was a cheerful and optimistic woman. We quickly divided into two groups—the harder but possibly more rewarding forest group, and the slightly easier lower Butler and LaValle Creek group. My dad and I joined the latter, along with Debbie and three excited women from Northwestern Montana: Madeline, Laura, and Heidi. Only Madeline was an experienced birder, but they all showed true birding spirit!

We took a quick check for birds around the school, then drove to the bottom of the canyon and parked our cars at a barn, where we picked up magpies, ravens, Red-tailed Hawk, Bald Eagle, pigeons and a Song Sparrow. We then shuttled up to the top of our route and hopped two fences and a creek, before slowly making our way back down the canyon.

The Christmas Bird Count just seems to bring out the birder in everyone! (Photo by Madeline Finley).

The walk, though cold, was fun. It took about two hours to get to the bottom, and birds were sparse. We were in great company, though, and everyone was enthusiastic—maybe too enthusiastic. One woman forgot we were birding a few times and just randomly burst into song or started yelling with unprompted glee. My dad designated himself as our owl-finder—we had done this area four years ago on our very first CBC, and been lucky enough to spot a Western Screech-Owl wintering in an old woodpecker hole in the cottonwood draw. Unfortunately, during our whole walk today we did not see a single owl.

We did see some great birds, however. I spotted a large flock of winter-plumaged American Goldfinches that seemed to follow us, and we added Black-capped Chickadees, Townsend’s Solitaires, and a White-breasted Nuthatch to the tally. We also picked up House Finch and Red-breasted Nuthatch at feeders near the end of the route. Once we got back to the barn, my dad called out a group of eight Gray Partridges flying by!

We said goodbye to the other women, then took one last short drive with Debbie up Butler Creek Road. On the way up we tallied a few Wild Turkeys, hawks, magpies and flickers, but nothing to write home about. On the way down, though, I glimpsed a round shape perched high in a deciduous tree next to a house.

No matter how much you want to see them, owls are always an unexpected delight. This guy was only Braden’s and my third NOPO ever!

“Stop!” I said. The bird looked like a fat Northern Shrike, which would be a great addition to our list.

When I raised my binoculars, though, I was greeted with black false eye-spots.

“Northern Pygmy-Owl!” I yelled.

“What!?” was the reaction from the front of the car.

Suddenly, the bird flew—into a convenient tree right next to our car!

Just like the last time we’d birded here, we ended our CBC with a great, tiny owl!

One great thing about owls is that they are generally more tolerant of human observers than many other species.

Owl Opportunity

See Sneed read from his book Woodpeckers and Warblers at River Oaks Books in Houston, November 17 at 3 p.m. and at The Well-Read Moose in Coeur d’Alene (Idaho) on November 23 at 6 p.m.

On Thursday, November 8th, my friend Eli and I were in the middle of a heated game of “Cup of Bluff” when my phone began going off. I saw that it was Nick and answered it.

“What’s going on?”

“Shh!” He was whispering.

“What?”

“I am at the Gravel Quarry standing, like, ten feet from a Saw-whet right now! Get your dad and get down here!”

He hung up and texted me his exact location. I raced upstairs and into my dad’s dark bedroom, abruptly waking him up from a nap. I told him the news. He yawned, and said, “Well, get your stuff! Let’s go!”

We rolled out of the house 10 minutes later, when Eli started his piano lesson with my mom. Nick was waiting for us at the Quarry, and as we pondered which routes would get us there the fastest, he sent us constant updates. According to him, it seemed like every bird at the Quarry was trying to make us miss the owl:

“A shrike just flew in and scared the owl, but it’s still in the same bush.”

“A mob of chickadees is trying to attack it! No!”

“Don’t let the Merlin distract you on the way in—go straight to the owl.”
This last thing was going to be particularly hard, as my dad still did not have Merlin for the year. Fortunately (and a little unfortunately), when we finally arrived, the Merlin was nowhere to be seen. We tiptoed down the hill into the forest section, and spotted Nick and his mom staring at a tree.

Though bored-looking, this Saw-whet was actually one of the most active owls we’ve ever seen!

“Look,” he said pointing straight into the tangle of branches, “See that puffball? That’s the bird.”

We looked right through and saw what Nick was calling the Northern Saw-whet Owl. It was looking away from us, but we could still sort of identify it. The view disappointed us, though, and my dad went around back of the tree to attempt some photos.

After about five minutes, the owl suddenly cocked its head and flew closer to my dad. We quietly joined him, and saw that the owl was now wide awake and perched in full sunlight.

“This is what he was doing when I first saw him,” whispered Nick.

“Look, there must be a mouse under there,” I said.

The Saw-whet’s eyes was intently following the rustle of leaves beneath him. Suddenly, he dove and retreated back to his previous spot within the bush. He hadn’t gotten the mouse, though, and eventually came back out into full view, his warm brown streaks and adorable golden eyes highlighted by the light of the sunset.

After about a half hour of photographing and staring at this new lifer, we left him alone.

The Gravel Quarry had scored again.

Northern Saw-whet Owl–another nemesis ticked off, and another great experience!