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blizzard warnings - 13:52 , 03 October 2013

heelerless - 21:32 , 18 August 2013

Red Coat Inn in Fort McLeod - 11:38 , 23 June 2013

rushing into the waters - 09:53 , 21 June 2013

choosing a spot - 17:43 , 27 April 2013

22 June 2002 - 23:21

flagpole perching

If you're interested, we relocated (or 'rescued', if you prefer) the owlets around 14:45-15:00.

The first call from a concerned citizen worried that something had happened to "our" owls came in at 18:18.

Everything says the relocation was a logical decision. The owlets were getting mobile, and the heat along that south wall was certain to drive them out onto the sidewalk and street. Repeatedly, if we just kept putting them back in the nest box.

Young owls in the wild would become mobile at the same time, and their parents would also have to contend with finding their offspring in unusual places and different trees on a daily basis.

So logic says the parent owls should have means of finding their kids in their new location. And should be willing to resume feeding and care.

But these are wild animals. They don't read the books.

There are no guarantees.

So while I was the voice of wisdom and confidence with the public as we planned and executed the relocation of these birds, there was still the little nagging voice in the back of my head, saying...

There are no guarantees.

And the fear that two or three days hence someone would find a couple starved little owls under the big blue spruce tree.

A little after nine o'clock, the wife and I take a little walk, sans heelers. As we were passing the post office, we are pleased to see the mother owl swoop (yes, I know I use that word a lot here, but that is the only good way to describe the gliding, inverse arch of an owl's landing flight) up onto the street light pole.

Immediately adjacent to the big blue spruce.

We lean against the wall of the old bowling alley, pretending to be necking so the owl won't notice us. After several minutes and two cars, she hopped into the spruce tree and disappeared.

After an even longer wait, or so it seemed, she came flying out the other side, and perched on another street light. More silent waiting. Then flew across to the east tower of the hotel, and immediately rebounded back across the street to perch on the ball on top of the empty flagpole by the caboose.

This is no ordinary flagpole, like at schools or government buildings. This pole puts both the USA and state flags well above the full grown cottonwood trees. Talk about an ideal hunting spot.

But we now knew. She knew where her kids were, and seemed to be okay with the new arrangement. And was feeding them. Could actually relax and feel like we did the right thing.

We slipped silently around the corner of the old brick building, and headed home. Turning back for one last look at this owl high on a flagpole, the nearly full moon up behind her.

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