This looks like this may turn into an owl nesting study... haven't done one of those since watching those flickers nesting in the Fort C cemetery.

As the heeler sisters and I were making our walk to the post office, and to check on the owls, we had to shuffle aside for a couple men from the street construction crew.

Have I mentioned the town has been replacing the sewer lines, water lines, street and curbing of the second street to the west of ours? This is the second reconstruction of their long range plan. Our street was first, four or five (or six?) years ago. We knew there were sewer and water pressure problems here when we bought this house, but they promised us our street was the worst in town, and would be the first rebuilt.

And they were true to their word. We were first. Of course, it took them sixteen years to get around to actually doing it, but we were first. Sixteen years of not being able to shower (at all). Sixteen years of not being able to do laundry if the water was turned on outside. Sixteen years of not being able to set the sprinkler properly if someone flushed the toilet in the house.

Anyway, as they neared, one of the two men asked if I'd checked on "your owls" (not ours, you notice) lately.

Not since yesterday, the worry rising in my voice.

Well, it seems these two just saw three owls sitting on the hotel. For the first time. Thought they had settled to roost there. Had to explain they were nesting there, and that the young were too young to leave. The other man thought that was cool.

As we neared the median island to check on the "hooters" (yes, that's google bait), noticed a bicyclist also stopped by our lilac bush observation point. A quick check of the terrace finds two owlets and one large parent, a little less than thrilled by the wind.

The cyclist is putting away her map, and gives me a wide-eyed "isn't it just wonderful!?" look. So we go over to visit.

She seems alarmed that I speak, presumably afraid of spooking the owls.

Hey, lady. You should see the screaming kids on bicycles that have gone by those owls. They are used to our stupidities.

Asks if the dogs are friendly. This, as the little maskless heeler is already bumping the cyclist's leg with her nose to get attention.

Yeah, if you haven't already noticed.

She's alone, probably in her fifties, in much better shape than I have been for ten years. Pedaling the Transcontinental Trail, originally from Chicago.

I explain about the owls selecting this highly visible nesting spot, and all the protective attention they have been getting. As we are talking, a woman in a white sedan goes by, slowing to a crawl so she can lean down and look out the passenger side window to see the owls.

About a third of the vehicles stop, right there in the traffic lane, to look at the owls.

I do.

Cops have not said 'boo' yet.

She reads my name tag and job title, and so I get to hear about all the improvements she has been involved in with natural and botanical parks within Chicago.

"Tens of acres." Where they can actually go out and selectively remove non-native or offensive plants. I hold my tongue and don't mention that nobody speaks of "acres" out here. Land is measured in sections or townships. Or, if you're speaking of wildfires or pastures, in thousands of acres.

But she's headed to the main community, and then north towards Yellowstone. By happenstance she will be there the same time as some friends from Europe. I warn her she won't like the first 12 miles, but then there is a wonderful downhill glide. She's timed it right. They've just finished rebuilding most of the highways on her route to Yellowstone. Wide, smooth roads with good shoulders.

She says our state's highways are by far the best yet. And the politest drivers.

Thanks, but I'm not surprised.

The masked heeler is bored, and has taken to tugging on her leash and wrapping it around my legs.

Time to go.

The cyclist wonders aloud about getting a picture of the owls.

No problem. Folks have been going into the hotel without disturbing them. Suspect you can get as close as you like (the adult owl left after the car slowed down).

As I checked traffic to cross, I notice she is digging through her saddle bags. For a camera, I reckon.