The other morning, when it was -29 degrees and the snow squeaked when you walked on it, I bundled up and headed outside to catch a bit of sunshine.
My exit point of the building is an immediate intrusion on the bird feeder area, and I inadvertently always spook the avian diners with my sudden appearance. Today was no different ... at first.
Slam goes the door, squeak goes my first footstep on the deck, and whoosh up fly the birds! A handful of blue jays, a pair of cardinals, a barred owl, a dozen juncos, a ... wait, what ... barred owl?
Yes, a barred owl that was no doubt checking out the spilled seeds for a foraging meadow vole. This is a usual hunting technique of these owls, and many sightings are reported by those who maintain bird feeders. However, the big bird is most often found perching on a lookout post, not on the ground.
Instead of flying far away, this owl did a quick side swoop and landed on the small branches of a nearby oak tree. Squeak, squeak, squeak I go back indoors to grab my camera. Squeak, squeak, squeak I return. Owl poses for a series of nice image captures. Way cool!
Three hours later I return, again rounding the end of the deck is a surprising fashion if you are a visiting bird. Up fly a dozen juncos, a female hairy woodpecker, a barred owl, a band of chickadees ... wait, what ... another barred owl?
Again the owl does a silent wing beat to the oak tree and settles down, eying me with intensity. How odd. Are there that many voles that the owl is having a feast? A closer inspection was conducted.
Underneath the playground structure, which is close to several of the bird feeders, the snow is dirty and disheveled. As my eyes adjust to the shadowed gloom, a headless cottontail rabbit comes into focus, as well as a regurtitated owl pellet and a white-washed area where the owl had defecated. Most interesting!
Ever since the snow began falling, there has been a daily observation of fresh rabbit tracks lacing across our yards. Actually laying my eyes upon said rabbit has occurred only a couple times; looks like the ever observant owl had better luck than I in finding the cottontail out in the open. The recent clear night sky with a waning full moon no doubt helped a bit.
It appears that in the tussle the rabbit managed to drag the owl under the playground before perishing.
Under normal circumstances, when an owl drops down to grab a rabbit, it is done out in the open and the owl then picks up and flies away with dinner firmly in hand.
With the constraining sidewalls of the playground, the owl could not open its wings wide enough to take flight with this heavy cargo ... so it was returning to eat its fill by crawling inside, until I kept disturbing the natural neighbourhood with my comings and goings.
As I pondered the situation, the owl sat nearby, obviously quite concerned that I might take its precious meal away. So I intervened (as we humans often do) and pried the frozen carcass free and dropped it outside on the open snow. I then retreated indoors to see if the owl might drop down to claim its delicious hasenpfeffer meal.
Within 10 minutes the barred owl did indeed come to reclaim its hard found food. And it was hard — frozen hard. The owl tried to fly away but could not get a good grip on the carcass, managing to cover only a metre or so before dropping the heavy carcass.
It stood atop its prize and picked at a strand of meat ... no way was it going to be able to tear off a decent mouthful. Oh well, I thought, at least I tried to help.
The owl then sat down atop the frozen bunny burger. It fluffed its feathers and looked like it was going to incubate the meat, looking much like an owl on a nest full of eggs. And it stayed there like that, swiveling its head back and forth to ensure no coyotes or meat-stealing ravens might be zeroing in on this easy target.
I checked back every hour or so, peering out the window as the sun dropped and the cold night fell upon us: 5:30 still there. 6:30, 7:30, 9:30 and 10:30 ... still there, just sitting and thawing out the carcass.
A bit of research revealed that this ‘prey thawing’ is a thing with great horned and barred owls. They often catch a bigger prey than they have the belly to handle in a single feeding, and those who live in these colder climes have found a way to defrost dinner prior to another helping.
At 2:30 a.m., a sweep of the flashlight reveals the bird to be still there, hunkered low to the snow, still alert to its surroundings. A further check at 7:30 later that morning and it was gone, with only a tuft of rabbit fur and a slightly bloody smear remaining on the snow. Roughly nine hours passed as the owl used its own body heat to thaw the frozen carcass. I’m impressed!
Life is tough in the great outdoors. While the property is down a rabbit, an owl has survived to hunt another day.
