Will He or Won’t He?: Wildlife Wednesday, December 2019

Tis the season to owl watch and at least one owl is providing a bit of show.  I’ve heard occasional territorial trilling and have seen an Eastern Screech Owl, Megascops asio, in our nest box on and off for a few weeks now.  At this writing, it’s been about 6 days since Mr. Screech snoozed during the day in Tina’s Owl Chateau, but owls are like that: they show up, hang out, disappear and don’t say where they’re going, and then, maybe, show up again.

Who knows what an owl thinks or how he makes plans?

This is the Screech, resting comfortably in the nest box one afternoon.   What you see is his back and tail feathers.

As well as seeing him peek out at the hole of the nest box (sorry, no photo of that as I didn’t want to spook him!) and observing his daily rests through the lens of the owl camera, I spied him in my neighbor’s tree last week.

Isn’t he cute as he glares menacingly at me?  On second glance, maybe it’s more of an annoyed stare.

Tree holes are the traditional, preferred spot for owl nesting, though in all my years, I’ve never seen an owl in this particular hole (just feet from my front garden) and wouldn’t have observed him, except for the alarm calls of Blue Jays, Carolina Chickadees, and Lesser Goldfinches.  Our nest box, which resides in a tree in our back garden, has attracted Eastern Screech Owls for most of the past decade, with varying degrees of familial owl production.  The nest box is a human affectation for attracting the darling predators and it’s mostly proved a snugly spot for chick rearing.

I don’t know with certainty that this tree owl is the same as my nest box owl, but it’s probably the same little dude. Am I sure it’s a male?  More than likely, because it’s typically the male who checks out suitable digs as he works to attract a mate for the upcoming breeding season.

Our owl luck has lacked in the past three years, so while I’m tickled that there is at least one Eastern Screech Owl experimenting with the local real estate market, it’s no guarantee of a settling down, a mating pair, or the creating and caring for chicks.  Time will tell and wildlife gardener patience is a must.

Appreciative of the quirks of wildlife, I’m marking Wildlife Wednesday and also joining in with Anna and her Wednesday Vignette.   Check out her beautiful Flutter and Hum for musings of various sorts.

Crowning Glory

Winter Texans have arrived in Central Texas.  They’re here in the form of seed and insect munching, delightfully feather-sporting, song-singing warblers.  I’m in warbler-watching nirvana because these birds are such pretties: tiny and colorful, sweet-faced and dulcet-voiced, warbler-watching provides great entertainment as I observe their bird business in the trees, at the perennials, and along the pathways.

I’m enjoying suet and peanuts visits from a female Orange-crowned Warbler, Leiothlypis celata, and recently, this little Yellow-rumped Warbler, Setophaga coronata, has joined in with some autumn/winter decoration of my garden.

Her cheery cap is charming and that flash of sunshine under the wings?  It positively swoon worthy!  Her little face is darling, too.

But(t) the crowning glory is–drum roll–her yellow bum.

Affectionately called Butter Butts  by avid birders, Yellow-rumped warblers’ show of their lemony rear-ends appears when they’re flying and when hunting for seeds on the ground.

Celebrating cute bird bums, I’m happy to join with Anna and her Wednesday Vignette–check out other colorful butts or perhaps less bottom-centric garden musings for today.

Eat or be Eaten

I watched the Downy WoodpeckerDryobates pubescens, for several minutes.   She was rock-still:  nothing moved, not a feather, despite the gentle sway of the feeder and the clasped piece of peanut in her beak.  Because she was motionless–abnormal for a bird–I realized that there must be a predator nearby.

I Downy-watched from my kitchen window, my favorite bird blind.  Even with my movements at the window–slow and careful, as not to startle the little bird–she didn’t move: no head turn, no shuffle of claws, no gulp of the prized peanut, nor snatch of another.  From my standing position, no predator was obvious, so I squatted at the window, looking up into the oak tree just beyond and around at the outdoors as best I could see.

I finally spotted that which froze, in fear, the heart of the would-be feeding woodpecker. The culprit perched far across my property, high in the neighbors’ elm tree.

The photo is poor, taken through the window and at some distance, with plenty of foliage and limbs as distractions.  The hawk is a big one, probably a Cooper’s Hawk, Accipiter cooperii, as they’re common here, especially in autumn, winter, and early spring.

The Downy was still for a good five minutes, maybe longer.  Finally the hawk took flight toward my house, but high above.  A split second afterwards the Downy pushed off from the feeder, heading in the same direction as the hawk, though much farther below and toward the protection of a large evergreen shrub.

I don’t know if the hawk swooped in for the woodpecker, though I doubt that’s what happened; there’s too much cover which would serve as safety for the woodpecker and too much interference for the hawk’s dive.  I imagine the hawk winged to another part of the neighborhood in search of an easier catch, less aware of the hawk’s existence.

It was an eat or be eaten life-cycle moment.  I’m certain the woodpecker finally ate her peanut, because I’ve seen her since.  And I’m equally certain the hawk found something to eat; I’m just not sure what, when, or where.

Appreciative for the life lessons a garden bestows, I’m joining today with Anna and her Wednesday Vignette.   Check out her beautiful Flutter and Hum for musings of various sorts.