The sounds of summer

I love it! The phone calls and e-mails are coming in about strange, screeching calls piercing the peaceful night sky. Jodi Creed sent me this one (edited for brevity):

"Three nights ago I was beckoned outside by the call of a great horned owl (GHO) very close to our house. He (or she) was being answered by a more distant owl with a slightly longer call (but still a great horned) and once by an even more distant owl.

"All of a sudden, during the conversation between the first two owls there was a close, high-pitched screech (similar to that of a parrot), which was answered by Owl No. 1. This continued for a bit, along with Owl No. 2, whereupon, there was interjected a closer, deeper and louder screech, also answered by Owl No. 1. This went on for a considerable period of time back and forth, interspersed with Owl No. 1 carrying on a conservation with Screech No. 1 and 2, primarily No. 2, the louder, deeper and closer.... Any thoughts, surmises, outright guesses or any of the above?" 

Jodi's husband Roscoe suggested babies, fledged but still begging for food, and he hit it right on the money!

A newly deserted great horned baby sounds like a cat with its tail in a screen door, and they can go on like that all night long. Mom and dad have decided they've had enough and drop out of sight, leaving the kid(s) on its own. Some will actually starve to death if they don't accidently see some kind of prey wander by and pounce on it. I think that's how they got onto eating skunks; anything tastes good when you're hungry. 

The trio of adult calls Jodi was hearing may have been two males having a debate over a female. GHOs usually mate up November-ish, but "whoooo" knows what Nature tells them what and when to do their thing.

The male's voice is deeper than the female's, and they both have a splendid variety of nuances they can add to their calls, including barking like a dog.

In all my years of intruding on the lives of great horns (and getting bashed about the head and shoulders for doing so), I have never observed an adult owl "teaching" a youngster how to make a living. However, Gary Landers, our local raptor rehabber, is doing it. He has an adult male great horned owl "Marly" that he assigns as a "baby-sitter" for the youngsters delivered to him each spring. Gary turns mice loose in a circular corral and let's nature takes its course. In that light, there is some training going on by Marly as he scoops up his meal every night.

In the wild, the nestlings are fed faithfully in the nest by both parents. They fly in with prey in their crop, talons and beak, which generates lots of hissing and agitation from the youngsters. When the babies are tiny, mom and dad tear off tiny bits of fur, flesh and bones and offer it to the hissing youngsters. (Gary cuts mice up with shears.) But later on, as the kids get bigger, most prey just goes down whole, head first.

Within six weeks most owls are as big as they ever will be, so when someone says he or she has found a "baby owl" in June, it's probably an adult screech, saw-whet, or pygmy owl.

When fledging time comes, the baby owls become "branchers." They leave the nest, which by this time is a bed of pellets, bones, fur and guts, and stinks to high heaven, and sit on branches close by.

In that light, if you should happen to come across a baby owl on the ground next spring, go ahead and pick it up, but, please don't take it to Gary! Place it on the nearest limb of a tree high enough so a cat or coyote can't reach it, and walk away. Mom and/or dad will find it easily and take care of it. And don't worry about your scent on the baby; they eat skunks, for crying out loud.