Stalking the Great Owl

Thanks to all of you, my dear friends, for your flap confirmations and stalking recommendations, I woke at 5 a.m.   No alarm clock.  Just excitement for the nocturnal hunt.

In order not to spook the owl I have decided is residing in the tree beside my house, I turned on no lights whatever.  Quiet as a mouse -- thinking that mouse might also attract the owl -- I tiptoed barefoot from the bedroom to get my camera.

And stepped on one of my grandson's toys that I had forgotten to put away when he went back to his parents yesterday. 

Fortunately it was a soft cuddly toy.

Unfortunately, my first thought was that it was it one of our cats so I jumped back so fast I smashed my knee on the coffee table. 

Refusing to cry out, I stuffed my agony and found my camera bag and like an expert, got out the Nikon, put on a mid-range zoom, attached the strobe...attached the strobe...tried to attach the strobe.  Finally realized in the dark that I was trying to put it on backwards.   Got it right.

I carefully moved to the porch and discovered it was raining.

But heck! It's 5 am.  National Geographic photographers do this in Antarctica, underwater, in rain forests.  So I tiptoed back to the hall and got my rainproof windbreaker and a plastic bag to protect the camera. 

30 minutes on the porch trying to figure out how to cover the camera and still push the buttons, leave the lens free but still protect it.  I ripped holes in two bags, ruined another, considered putting a big leaf bag entirely over my head and shoulders.  Almost suffocated. 

Okay, I did't really almost suffocated.  I just almost fell back asleep.  At which point I probably would have suffocated.

But the rain let up a little.  So I decided I could just protect the camera with the windbreaker and left the bags on the porch and stepped out.

Barefoot.  Wet grass.  Dark.  I crouched and stealthed my way...

BUTLER:  "Stealth is not a verb!"

Ssssshh.   I hid behind a bush.  It was dark.  In fact it might not have been a bush. 
It might have been the barbecue grill.  I had the tree in sight.  I strained to see the owl's eyes as my friends had suggested.  I could hardly see the tree.  It began to rain harder. 

I set the camera and strobe to multiple shot mode so I could make the most of the one chance I would have to shoot flapping wings.  The machine gun of photography.

Holding my breath, I stepped out from behind the bush (or the grill).  The rain started coming down heavier.  By then my only thought was the owl.  So what if the Nikon gets wet!  I took one more step, my bare foot landing on something soft and wet -- praying it was a mole hill and not a gift from Daisy the Oppossum-Dog. 

I raised my camera and...

All the spot lights on the house snapped on turning night into day and Karen's voice called out loudly, "Mark!  What are you doing?!!  Aren't you going to walk Daisy??!  What are all these bags doing in the porch??!!!!  What time is it?!!"
I didn't even hear a flap from the owl...only the flap from the porch.  I turned quickly and slipped, splashing in the wet grass.  The good news was that what I had stepped on was a mole hill. 

The bad news is that what I fell on was the gift from Daisy. 

So much for my career with National Geographic.

Owl Flap

Wow!!  An owl has taken up residence in the Japenese Elm tree beside the house! 

I haven't actually seen it yet.   But for the second morning in a row, walking Miss Daisy, my usual pre-dawn grumbling was interrupted by the sudden, thunderous but silent flapping of giant wings while something owlish flew over my head. 

I can't defend why I thought it was owlish any more than I can explain the oxymoronic silently thunderous sound.   It might have been a hawk or an ibis.  There are plenty of those around the pond.  But it was night!  Or pre-dawn at least.  Owls are nocturnal.

Okay, so it might have been avery small dragon or a very large bat.  Wearing a bowtie with a German accent.  Or did Dracula have a Hungarian accent?   Speaking of hungry, it could well have been one of the last of the escaping turkeys trying to stay hidden for three more days.

Are any of you good at identifying birds by their wing flapping?   This one went "Flash, flutter...pause...flap flap flap."   Any ideas?  The best I can do is rule out hummingbirds because they go "z.z.z.z..z".   Turkey vultures never flap at all but just hover like gliders.  In fact, I can't prove it but I think they are fixed wing birds that are towed up into the sky every morning by owls. 

But I'm convinced this is an owl.  A large one.  Bagman says it is a great horny owl.

It probably sits in the Japanese elm waiting to have sex with Miss Daisy who is a cross between a terrier and an oppossum.   
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And, to be perfectly honest, I have no idea whether the tree is a Japanese elm either.  But I don't think it is an elm, an oak, or a magnolia which are the only trees this poor excuse for a naturalist knows.