There it was, sitting as still as a statue on a woodpile. I whispered to myself. It’s an owl. And, slowly, slowly I edged closer to the bundle of fluff. A bundle of fluff about the same size and shape as a hairy coconut, but lighter. Any moment I expected it to fly away, so I took photographs with every cautious step, but it let me get closer and closer until I was less than a metre away.
It was a baby owl, its beak tucked forlornly into the soft young feathers on its chest. Only around the end of its hunched up wings were there any adult feathers at all. Perched on top of the logs it was a sitting duck, if ever there was such a thing. Wolf had been hot on my heels and was inquisitively sniffing around, wondering what had caught my attention.
I ran back to the house, dragging Wolf with me, hearing my husband’s car on the gravel, and together we returned to look at the owl baby again. It hadn’t moved. Occasionally it opened its circles of eyes, but mostly it kept them tightly scrunched closed as if it wanted this nightmare to go away.
We ransacked our bird books, looking for pictures of baby owls, and thought it most likely to be a baby tawny owl or perhaps a small owl. Both were likely to be found in our neck of the woods. I rang the RSPCA for some advice. They said that we should try to return the chick to its nest. Impossible because the only potential nesting place we could see was a natural hollow directly above the woodpile in the candle-covered chestnut tree, and impossible to reach. We were advised to “contain” the bird so that one of their collection officers could take it to their wild life sanctuary in the next county. Together we returned to the bird, my husband holding a wicker basket he had found.
The bird stayed still, like a Furbie with flat batteries. With a beating heart, I closed both hands around the bird. It struggled, but only half heartedly, and seemed to fall over when I placed it in a corner of the basket. We retreated out of the sun to the cool of a shed, optimistically left the owl with a small bowl of water, and covered him with a dark tea towel and sought more advice.
This time, the bird safely contained, we were asked if we could take it to a local RSPCA office about half an hour’s drive away. By now the baby owl had placed its bottom over the bowl of water, but otherwise was much as before. With the basket on my husband’s lap, and Wolf constrained by his lead in the boot of the car, we drove to the centre which houses all the abandoned dogs and cats that the RSPCA is seeking to re-home.
Tom, the bird man, took our owl away to a chilled room where he prised the young bird’s talons off the wicker basket and, wrapped in a towel, placed the bird in a plastic basket, the sort in which you transport small cats and dogs. With a syringe he fed the grateful bird drops of water. The beak opened and I saw the strange angular folded tongue before the beak closed and the water was swallowed. Later it would be offered small dead rodents to tempt it to eat. If the bird survived the night it will be taken tomorrow to the wild life centre from where it will, when it has grown adult feathers, be released into the wild.
Owl babies are pushed out of the nest when the mother and father cannot manage to feed them all. It was probably Nature’s way that this baby owl should die, leaving fewer mouths to feed. There are about 600 pairs of tawny owls in our county, a small enough number for it to make it worth while trying to save this baby.
Our daughters are away this weekend, staying with their grandparents. They wanted to know all about the owl and are anxious to know whether it will survive. We remembered how both of them had grown up on the story of Owl Babies, of three baby owls whose mother has left them. The two younger owls, Percy and Bill, are very anxious that she may never come back, repeating over and over again “I want my Mummy”. Sarah, the oldest owl, seeks to reassure them that Mummies always come back. It was a favourite book, with beautiful illustrations. This Mummy Owl came back, of course. The ending was different for our real little owl. When his Mummy came back it was more of as case of “Percy, you’re one mouth too many too feed. I cannot be doing with catching mice and birds for you any more,” and a big push out of the hollow in the tree. All his inadequate wings could do was to break his fall.
Tawny Owl Chicks
10 comments
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May 12, 2008 at 5:33 am
Lola
What a beautifully written and moving post, Margaret. I don’t recall ever having seen a photo of a baby owl, much less the real thing, urban hostage that I am. Thanks for taking such good care of that particular baby owl, even though his own mother couldn’t. (Your timing was perfect, too, for those of us in North America who are observing Mother’s Day today.)
Actually, while I’m here, let me thank you for all of your blog entries. Not only are your ruminations always thoughtful and well expressed, but I very much appreciate your talent for assimilating multiple elements into a meaningful whole. A joy to read!
May 12, 2008 at 10:04 am
adifferentvoice
Thank you, Lola. I think you must be the same wise woman whose comments decorated Domina Grecia from time to time. I always enjoyed your contributions, and greatly admired your confidence and witty turn of phrase.
May 14, 2008 at 12:09 pm
Lola
Yes, Margaret, that was I, and now I recall how I “found” you. I enjoyed your comments on that blog, too. DG seems to be gone now, though; is that right? I hope my “confidence” didn’t drive the poor man away. 🙂
May 14, 2008 at 1:03 pm
adifferentvoice
He has acquired the habit of disappearing completely, I’m afraid. I am quite sure you did not drive him away. I hope he comes back and that he is OK, though we will always have to worry that he is about to disappear again.
May 16, 2008 at 1:25 pm
Lola
Ah, good to know I didn’t provoke his exit. I tend to take for granted that Greek men easily withstand my tongue-in-cheek verbal sparring, because they always have. But after T. took down his blog, I realized I shouldn’t assume that these younger EuroGrecques sport the same impenetrable hide of their elders, and that what made T.’s writing so refreshing was his comfortable display of vulnerability.
I hope he’s OK and that he comes back, too.
May 16, 2008 at 3:20 pm
adifferentvoice
” … what made T.’s writing so refreshing was his comfortable display of vulnerability …”
I agree. But then I believe that everything begins with a willingness to take the risk of showing vulnerability. There is much to be lost, but much more to be gained.
May 18, 2008 at 8:27 am
Lola
Yes, I agree that much begins with the willingness to risk revealing our vulnerability, but I also think that by taking such risks, we come to realize there’s really nothing (of value) to be lost or gained anyway. Well, actually, we do lose our fear of appearing weak or ridiculous, and we do gain the freedom to act unselfconsciously…so you’re quite right: there’s much to be lost but much more to be gained! 😉
May 18, 2008 at 8:25 pm
Margaret
Lola, thanks for spelling out what I meant ;).
June 1, 2008 at 3:42 pm
Heather Dodge
I found your website and owl story when surfing for information on small/baby owls, as I spotted one high up in the branches of my backyard tree last Thursday. Today is Sunday and the owl is still in the tree, but higher up. It was like finding Waldo in all that natural camouflage to spot him this morning.
My cat, Tigger, is the one who first noticed the owl. He had climbed the tree and was out on a large limb, looking intently at something, and as I followed his gaze, there it was. Tigger, I believe, decided it would be unwise to go after a bird that was nearly as big as he is, so he backed off and has not returned for another look.
I took pictures with the zoom, but can’t paste into this reply. I was hoping someone could identify what kind of owl it is. I hope it is able to survive, as it’s too far up in the tree to reach. It’s a beautiful creature and the first owl I’ve seen so close by, and it’s been up in the tree 24/7.
June 1, 2008 at 5:35 pm
adifferentvoice
Heather, I hope it survives …
You may have seen these advice pages (from UK charities) – the advice is not very consistent:
http://www.rspb.org.uk/advice/helpingbirds/health/faqs.asp#tcm:9-126860
http://www.rspca.org.uk/servlet/Satellite?pagename=RSPCA/RSPCARedirect&pg=wildlifeadvice&marker=1&articleId=1024473290418