A Burrowing Owl

Everybody knows the owl.  When thinking about him, many Americans will imagine a bird very much like the great horned owl.  Large, pointy 'eared,' with wide-open eyes, he's the quintessential image of this avian.  In fact, symbolizing wisdom and academia, an owl's persona is certainly larger than life.

However, how many people have actually seen an owl in the wild?  The great-horned is certainly nocturnal, so a chance to see him in daylight is always limited to when he's nesting or sleeping high in a tree or cactus.  Chances are, most people have heard one many more times than they've seen one.  The low pitched and airy hoots are a sound that few would mistake for anything else.

Lucky for us in the American West, the burrowing owl is unique among this order of birds -  he is often active during the day.   And like his name implies, he nests on the ground, mostly in holes, caves and tunnels built by himself or taken over from rodents.  While he can live in the desert and open grasslands, I saw him in an agricultural area outside Phoenix, along an irrigation ditch running between a road and a field of cotton.

 An animal that lives and hunts close to the ground and throughout the day is a very tempting and hopefully easy subject for a wildlife photographer.  I'm happy to say my very first and lucky encounter with this splendid creature wasn't a disappointment.

One of my first shots, from the side of the road, through the open passenger window of my 4Runner.  Perched on an irrigation control gate , his body is facing what I think is a cotton field but his head is turned 180 degrees to check me out. 

He quickly flew away, along an irrigation ditch.  I got out of the car when he dropped into the dry culvert, finding him low in it - but not at the bottom - outside what might be a nest.  But would he nest so close to flowing water?  And would he actually lead me to it?  I suspect he doesn't call this cave or tunnel home.

He flew away, to the other side and a ways further down the channel.  He's apparently adapted long legs to aid his running and hunting on the ground. They also aide in a jerky up and down motion their bodies make when alarmed.  I indeed caused him to make such a demonstration.

He finally perched on a last control gate.  From my car's window, I was able to get several good shots, moving my Toyota closer and closer.

All around this area you could hear the distinct calls of red-winged blackbirds.  The burrowing owl paid closer attention to their movements above than to me.

The wind caught his neck feathers as he continued to check out the birds above.

Some final shots from quite close up, maybe fifteen feet. Some of these pictures are barely cropped.

He wasn't a big bird, maybe only nine inches tall.

My last shot of the burrowing owl.  If it turns out to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, I'll always be thrilled with my precious ten minutes with such a beautiful and cooperative subject.