My family, Chris, and I sit down to eat dinner at our needle splattered picnic table. Tonight, we are eating a “cowboy stew” with ground moose meat, which was cooked in a Dutch Oven over the now smoking campfire. Just as we begin to eat, Zach pulls up and begins setting up. I quickly wolf down the rest of the stew and put my dish in the sink. Walking over to the vehicles, I watch as Zach begins hammering long metal stakes into the ground. Tonight, we are attempting to catch and band the male, who often hides in the canopy of our conifer forest. From out of a plastic grocery bag, Zach pulls out 40 feet of mist net and begins tying it to long metal poles, which he then sticks onto the stakes.
As the darkness grows, an owl flies out of the trees…right over the nest. “They must have been watching us the whole time.” Zach laments. We’re not giving up on the first try though. He pulls out a stuffed lemming tied to a spool of fishing line and throws it towards the net. The owl’s reaction is immediate. As Zach inches the fuzzy taxidermy back towards us, an owl swoops out of the darkness…and dives under the net. We all groan as Zach throws the lemming one again. Already gone over the net, already gone under the net, going to go through the net. Right? Not a chance. The owl swoops in low, right at the net…and hovers in place, head fixed on the fake mouse. ARGH!! Zach doesn’t give up though and moves to the other side of the net, tossing the mouse out for the third time. The owl bobs its head…and flies straight into the net.
We cheer and move over. “Well, there’s some bad news.” Zach says disentangling the owl. “It’s the female.” NO. WAY. She must have just left the nest, because she had been poking out intermittently throughout the day. Zach hands her to Lucy and helps her release the owl, who flies away into the darkness immediately. We walk back to the gallery of chairs and vehicles, preparing the last possible way of banding the male. Zach pulls out a medium sized speaker and turns it on. Soon, the tremolo of the Western Screech-Owl booms out into the black forest. We pause and listen, but there’s no response. Zach tries a few more times with no success. Admitting defeat, we turn back to the cabin as he backs out of the driveway and drives away. Somewhere in the dusky trees, the male gives himself a pat on the back and heads off in search of a meal.
Until next week,
Dottie
Missoula Bird Nerds 