The little owl was very hard to see in the
midst of the skinny spruce trees. I only knew it was there
because we had visitors, and one of them had spotted the saw
whet owl in the trees just behind the cabin.
One of the best things about having folks
come to visit is the things we learn from them. I especially
like when "birders" come to visit, because it is so much easier
to learn from them than it is to flip through the guidebooks.
And some of the things visitors teach just are not readily
available in the books. Finding this little bird is a prime
example.
A friend was getting ready to go for a ski
when he heard a flock of chickadees making a big racket. He
knew this behaviour meant that there was a predator nearby,
probably an owl.
Twenty or thirty chickadees were chattering
and flitting about. It never occurred to me that there was
something unusual about this. Chickadees are around all the
time. I've probably seen them flocking about like this before.
Now I know why!
Even so, I had a hard time finding the tiny
saw whet. It sat perfectly still while several of us stood just
a few metres away looking. When I finally did find it on a tiny
branch of the black spruce tree, it was quietly looking back at
us. It seemed not to care at all that we were there. Nor did it
care that the chickadees were making a racket all around.
I know the saw whet owl, having spotted my
first one 27 years ago while on a canoe trip. We know they live
around here because we hear their mating call in spring. But
the saw whet is a very tiny creature, and not easy to see, even
if they are nearby. Perhaps this one has been around the
yard a lot, and is quite used to us - even
though we have not noticed it before now.
Compared to the large fierce looking owls
many people picture, with bright yellow staring eyes and sharp
beaks and talons, the saw whet is at most, 20 cm high. It
really just looked like a round ball of fluff.
It was fascinating to see this little part of
nature that we kept checking to make sure it was still there
every so often. Later in the day, it moved down to about eight
feet above the ground. Keeping a respectable distance away from
it, a few people got some very good pictures. And with the aid
of binoculars we saw every little detail, right down to
individual feathers. The experience was breathtaking, and
served as a reminder of the fragility of every living thing
here in the bush.
Viki Mather lives by a lake near Sudbury.
