Wife brought eldest son back from his night class late this evening. He came stomping in as the heelers went charging, noisily, out to greet their Alpha. I followed behind.

Before I reached the bottom step I was greeted with a loud, scratchy scrawk from above.

Knew what it was immediately, of course.

A great-horned owl.

Close.

Making that strange, unearthly courtship call of theirs. Sort of like that of the Australian frogmouth, but not quite.

Only light was starlight and street lights, but couldn't see him (Or her... ashamed to admit I don't know who does the calling in great-horned owl sex lives. Or if both do.) in our elms out front.

Before I could step out into the drive to check the cottonwood across the street, the wife had already gotten there and had it spotted. At the highest tip on the west side, hanging out over the street.

And yes, she too was answering the owl.

Don't you talk to the owls in your neighborhood?

Have absolutely no idea what we were saying, but he/she was unimpressed. And kept calling for the real thing.

These large birds nest early, usually starting egg-laying in February. Presumably this gives them a little edge on snatching up prey items in the spring, while their diurnal competitors are still incubating.

Had a couple bring their son by for our youth group meeting on Tuesday, checking us out to see if he wants to join. Visited with them after the meeting, and discovered they are new residents in our small town. With the church group that is taking over the hotel.

Yes, that hotel. They already knew about the owls nesting on their building.

And are hoping they will come back this year.

Cool.

At least one of them is here, now.