Wild Delicate Seconds: 29 Wildlife Encounters

Great Horned Owl

Great Horned Owl 54 Great Horned Owl Saturday afternoon and six ravens dive bomb a fir tree. They turn, wheeling against the green and azure. Angry screams fill the forest and I hurry along a deer trail, ducking stray branches.When I come out into the open all six birds are airborne at once, each turn, each twist of a wing a calligraphy of violence. Three-quarters of the way up the tree a great horned owl stands slouched against the trunk.The night warrior is tipped slightly out of plumb,listing like a ship at sea.It stares with eyes locked straight ahead, glowing like headlights left on. It has its wings folded to its sides, its chest streaked black, white, and brown,the tricolors mingling with the branch that it stands on. The tufts of its ears are flattened like an angry cat’s and in the mid-afternoon quiet the outrage of the ravens is startling.They holler, but there’s no need for translation. The owl shrugs its shoulders and looks down at its visegripping feet. It rocks side to side, each new movement bringing a hailstorm of abuse.A number of times a raven comes dangerously close, almost dashing the owl with its wings, but the owl simply blinks and stares, blinks and stares, ignoring the cacophony around it.Then, tired, bored, sick of the abuse, the owl sidesteps out to the end of the branch, leans forward and launches into the air. A monster-sized moth glides out from the tree. Air raid sirens go off in the ravens. Forget power, I say, forget greed. History teaches all any of us ever want is to protect our young. The ravens are in hot pursuit. ...