Owl’s nest blues

Mama owl eyes the photogrpaher.
Mama owl eyes the photogrpaher.

Finishing a 6 1/2 mile hike yesterday north of Phoenix, the lords of Naturedom rewarded my efforts with a photo-op.

I was photographing a blooming Teddy Bear Cholla, when a jogger came down the trail and, seeing I had a serious camera in hand, suggested I might want to  shoot an owl’s nest with a mama and three babies.  My ears perked up.

“I may have to cut my hike short,” I told the man and thanked him for the tip and the history;  The bird, a Great Horned Owl, had returned to the same spot for at least the last three years to raise her young.  Two babies last year and three the year before.

As bird's nests go, this one is metropolitan-sized.
As bird’s nests go, this one is metropolitan-sized.

Unfortunately I did not cut the hike short. I returned later to the spot the jogger mentioned.  It was near sunset and while I could see from a distance the ears of Mama, the youngsters were out of sight, snuggled no doubt at the base of a very large nest of sticks.  The nest was cradled in a good-sized Saguaro.  I edged forward and click, click.

The few photos would normally find a place in the Trash Bin.  But I had hiked so far, gone up so many steep places in the trail, I thought, “Why not?”  So I hit the Publish button.

So much for setting priorities.

 

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