Owl Magic



"May the Force be with you."

Whenever I head into nature, I go without expectations, because it's a lot more fun to see what gifts await.  Some of these gifts come in small packages, like hummingbirds, while others are larger, like reddish egrets.  On this day, though, the package was neither big nor small, but just the right size.

The Way Eye See It was taking a final turn around John Chestnut Sr. Park in Palm Harbor recently, looking for deer, but open for anything, when from somewhere overhead, a big bird swooped over the car and into a stand of pine trees.  We were so surprised, we didn't even think about identifying this bird, only figuring it had to be some kind of owl due to its shape and wingspan.

Even though we figured the owl would be long gone by the time we parked, we knew we couldn't just drive off without knowing for sure.  So, we parked, Anna grabbed her binoculars, I got my camera, and off we went in search of the owl - which ended up taking about two minutes, because the owl had landed in the pine tree closest to us.  It sat on a fairly low branch, and didn't seem at all in a hurry to move on.



looking like the proverbial wise old owl

Time is usually of the essence, though, when it comes to birds, and it was too good to be true this guy was hanging out.  I debated whether to go to the car for my 500mm zoom, and decided what the heck, since I'd already gotten a few shots with my smaller zoom.  If the owl flew away in the meantime, I was still happy we'd had the chance to see it.  I went to the car, changed cameras, changed lenses, mounted both on my tipod, and the owl was in the exact same spot when I returned.  It modeled for us - preened, stretched, squinted at us with its liquid-black eyes.  We were amazed it sat as long as it did, giving us the opportunity to really study it, since we'd never seen a Barred Owl in in the wild before.

I love their big ole round heads, and their huge black eyes are so expressive.  I didn't know until I read later that Barred Owls are the only eastern North American dark-eyed owls aside from Barn Owls.  Their expression is a serious one.  Henry David Thoreau wrote in his journal about Barred Owls, "Solemnity is what they express, - fit representatives of the night."  That definitely rings true, although this owl was out in the early evening.  Still, even in the early evening, there's a mysterious air about owls.


scoping out the landscape

Eventually, the owl took flight, and we thought that was the last we'd see of it. When it landed in another tree not too far away, we watched it some more.  And I took more pictures, while it sat and looked around, until I finally reached the point (which almost never happens), when I decided I'd taken enough pictures.  Nine times out of ten, birds never stay, and sometimes the only pictures I get are of their butts as they fly away.  Even funnier are the shots of one departing foot in the very corner of the frame. 

This Barred Owl, though, who sat and let us fall in love with it, was magic, big ole round-headed, black-eyed magic in a package that was just the right size.



"Yes?"

"No matter how slow the film, Spirit always stands still enough for the photographer It has chosen."

Minor White

A Two Parks a Day Habit

For her birthday, my friend and photo buddy, Anna (bird watcher and the business brain behind The Way Eye See It Photography), wanted to celebrate with a day at Brooker Creek Nature Preserve in Tarpon Springs. We met early in the morning, anticipating what birds we might spot, and hoping to see Swallow-tailed Kites, but the park was closed when we arrived. We stared at the locked gate, as though the power of our desire would make it magically unlock, and, when it didn't, we sat, contemplating our next move.

John Chestnut Sr Park is, fortunately, only a short drive from Brooker Creek, and we headed there, with no expectations, since we've had hit & miss photo ops on previous visits. We wanted to stop first at the butterfly garden, but got diverted by the loud pounding noises of a Pileated Woodpecker looking for food. It's not easy, despite their bright red heads, to spot pileateds among tall oak branches, and when we did, it flew away. I've yet to get a decent shot of a pileated, but I love watching them, and they're always a goal to look forward to. Alligators are common at John Chestnut, and I wanted to see one surface from an algae-covered pond, but no such luck there, either. We did spot a Blue Heron, though, and its color, combined with the algae, was spectacular.

Not to be deterred from our original birthday plan, Anna and I drove back to Brooker Creek a few days later, and wandered a few trails, followed some butterflies, got a split-second view of a Red-shouldered Hawk, and swatted mosquitoes. Early on, we could tell it was going to be the sort of day where patience might or might not pay off. We finally lucked out on the exit trail, when both a Palimedes Swallowtail and an Eastern Tiger Swallowtail, a new butterfly for us, landed and fed on close-by plants. Butterflies are among my most difficult, but favorite, photo challenges. Swallow-tailed Kites are an even more elusive challenge. We'd seen one once at Brooker Creek, and wanted to see one again, but it didn't feel like we would on this trip. So, we packed up our gear, making plans to hit John Chestnut Park next. Anna and I are shameless gawkers, constantly on the look-out for wildlife, and when, on the drive out, Anna spotted Gulf Fritillaries on daisies, we couldn't pass them up. But we had to, because there was a car behind us. So we drove the park's entry/exit loop again, hoping the butterflies hadn't zipped away, and this time pulled over. Not only was I rewarded with butterfly shots, we were shocked when first one, then another, Swallow-tailed Kite swooped over our heads. The first kite flew so close, it practically touched the hood of the car, and I was so surprised, all I could do was watch. Both kites sailed high in the sky above us for a few minutes, before disappearing behind a line of trees.

That's what I love about nature: the magic and the gifts. In my experience, there's a mystical element to nature, which I can't explain, but magical moments, like the Swallow-tailed Kites, almost always happen. Sometimes I have my camera handy, and sometimes I don't. And sometimes I have my camera handy, but am too caught up in the moment, or too surprised, to even think about using it. I don't mind if I don't get the shot; I'm just grateful to receive the gift.

When I'm in the zone, though, concentrating on a subject, there's nothing that compares. Later that afternoon, at John Chestnut, we followed the sound of a Red-shouldered Hawk calling. When we found it, we were able to watch it/photograph it for several minutes. The hawk sat on its oak branch, I stood below it, and it's as though we were connected by some invisible thread. It definitely knew I was there, because it looked right at me, and I stood as still as possible to let it know I wasn't a threat. In moments like this, when I'm connected to an animal, it feels like I'm in a bubble, and nothing exists outside it. These moments fade as abruptly as they occur, and I can always feel when the moment is over. The imaginary thread breaks, the bubble bursts, and I hear the noises of everyday life again.

I've never felt complete in anything I've ever done until I started taking photography seriously. I've always loved being in nature, and the combination is what makes me whole. In The Power of Myth, Joseph Campbell talks about "the peak experience." He explains it as "actual moments of your life when you experience your relationship to the harmony of being." Campbell's peak experiences came when he ran track. My peak experiences happen, camera ready (or not), in nature.

That's why I'll never give up my two parks a day habit.