Owl In The Smokehouse

Daylight is slow coming in this norther region. As the sun slowly crept over the horizion at ten AM, I checked out the back window and see if the local pine squirrel was at the bird feeder that is set up on the side of the smokehouse. It usually sits and eats the beans or seeds or crusts of bread we put out there for him. The birds, who struggle to survive in this snowy climate, also come to nibble on the treats.

On this crapisicular morning I could just make out a ghostly pale silhoutte of a small owl perched on one of the upright posts. He sat at the top, on the pointy end of the verticle post; from his advantage point he could see the bird feeder where some seed was scatterd across the snow. There, the voles were getting a free lunch as well.

I could see his head slowly rotating while he scanned below for the slight movement of a vole searching out the seeds in the snow. I sat and watched as it became full daylight and realized the squirrel would soon arrive at the bird feeder for his customery breakfast.

I went in the kitchen and got a cup of mocha (that was my morning ritual) and by the time I made it back to the window all hell had broken loose. The squirrel had arrived and was loudly chattering and bouncing around the side the smokehouse like spiderman on crack. All the while cussing at that owl - that didnt look much bigger than a ptarmigin. To tell you the truth, had this been Las Vegas I would of put my wager on the squirrel. He was fearless of me and the neighborhood dogs that would send him scampering up the pole to the feeder. But once just out of reach of the dogs, he would sit and cuss their mother and everything else about them and showed no fear of even God himself.

Well he went spinning around the smoke house chattering for an hour, while the small boreal owl swiveled his head around trying to make sense of all the commotion that was going on while he was trying to take a nap in the new morning sunshine.

The owl eventually seemed to get aggravated and flew to perch on the piece of plywood that was partially covering the smokhouse door. He fluffed his feathers and ignored the squirrel as best he could while dozing off.

The squirrel still seemed upset about the owl's presence at "his" feeder, but was content to sit just above the owl on the smokehouse. There, he could keep and eye on the intruder and doze off into the morning sunshine with him.