Barny moves on

It was twenty-five days into Barny's nocturnal escapades when the she-pig came back.

She downed the camera trap with porcine recklessness, but paid it no further heed.

It lay on its back, three round eyes to blazing sun and starry night.

Our good fortune with Barney though wasn't yet over.

Two nights later --  at 9:41 to be exact, she appeared out of the darkness like a red-eyed Valkyrie, and the camera recorded her passing.

It was the only photo of her that night. If she touched down in the swale she kept her distance.

She made 8 more visits during the next 11 days, but we don't know if she played with the seed heads.

On each visit however she peered at the waylaid camera, sometimes looking down through her toes  . . . and sometimes leaning in from the side.

Then she disappeared into the night.

We'll be back at the grassy swale looking for Barny next year. 

Barny's adventures, continued

It seemed that Barny was a-huntin'.

Like a Peeping Tom she spent a lot of time peering -- peering into the trampled grass.

A wee sleekit beastie' was probably crepitating therein, and Barny, it seemed, was channeling the sound with her facial disk.

That's how I read the photos, but I needed confirmation.

Hans Peeter's Field Guide to Owls of California and the West made no mention of barn owls foraging on the ground . . . had we made a discovery?

I sent Peeters a message and he answered . . .

I myself had never heard of Barn Owls foraging on foot, although it wouldn't totally surprise me. This species, however, is so highly aurally inclined in its hunting that infantry-style foraging would be a surprise. Do you have videos? All owls, having pounced on prey and missed, do a certain amount of walking about and weaving their heads from side to side to obtain auditory clues, and all seem to be far-sighted and therefore back up from the point of impact and try to locate the prey by sight. 

I quickly googled up a minor paper at http://www.fosbirds.org/FFN/PDFs/FFNv26n3p91-93McMillian.pdf which seems to present pretty good evidence of foot hunting by Great Horned Owls, and it mentions other references (though I couldn't locate any discussion of the phenomenon in Johnsgard, which the author mentions. I am also not entirely convinced that his owls actually ate the tern eggs; eggs of ducks and coots not infrequently turn up undamaged in GHO nests, having slipped out of the bodies of prey brought there. Such eggs are not eaten and become part of the nest detritus. 

At any rate, if you can provide more detail or video of the foraging on foot that you have seen, I would very much like to see it. 

Then came another message . . . 

While ruminating about your pedestrian foragers, I remembered that I have seen Burrowing Owls hunt crickets on foot during the day; of course that species is highly visually oriented and more or less cathemeral, so that's no great surprise. The Eurasian Tawny Owl, however, is completely nocturnal but also forages for earthworms on foot sometimes (I've seen Red-shouldered Hawks do so in the daytime, rather surprisingly, since it's such insubstantial prey for such a large raptor).

The codger was highly gruntled with the finding, and began daydreaming about ways of getting the evidence in video.

The problem was time. The days were getting shorter and we hadn't even scheduled the next trip to Chimineas.

Meanwhile, Craig succumbed to curiosity -- he hauled his live traps to Barny's stomping ground, and though he caught deer mice and pocket mice in the neighborhood, harvest mice were the only mice in the swale.

Once again I poured over the photos searching for some hint of the elusive quarry . . . some telling crumb of evidence in the corner of Barny's beak, like the spurred femora of a Jerusalem cricket.

At last I found some frames of suspicious activity -- Oh my God! -- frames of Barny holding something fuzzy in her beak.

I dragged the jpeg into Photoshop and zoomed in.

The victim was no wee mousie -- but the seed head of annual rabbitsfoot grass, Polypogon monspieliensis.  

There was actually a sequence -- Now Barny was gripping a seed head in her talons.

Then she was either eating it or tearing it apart!

Was Barny pouncing on imaginary mice in the form of grass seeds?

And sampling them for texture and digestabilty?

The swale seemed a strange and risky place for Barny to hone her hunting skills, if that is what she was doing. 


A predator could explode out of the grass and catch the owl in the midst of her baffling game.


All good things do come to an end, don't they?

Barny's cakewalk in the swale

A marshy stretch on Barrett Creek . . . . the barn owls' stomping ground. 

Craig thought Barrett Creek was good for another camera trap set.

Though all but dry in early August, a lush swale marked its meandering course, and here and there the ground was even soggy.

It was a little oasis of greenery, but if any critter smelled water there it would have to dig for it.

I predicted that the swale would be a haven for meadow mice and their predators, thinking we might at last get a picture of our long-tailed weasel.

So we trampled down a couple square yards of grass and concealed the camera at the edge of the clearing -- set 388.

Six weeks later the team viewed the photos and found that the camera had taken over 750 photos of pigs, black-tailed deer, and cotton-tails, and not a single carnivore.

But barn owls were the big surprise.

There were 357 photos of them.

Barn owls all look the same to me, but I suspect it was one or two birds that visited 32 times on 26 nights, and almost always before midnight.

On only two successive nights however did a pair of owls show up in the same picture, and in three frames they curtsied.  

I need an experienced owler to tell me if this was courtship, threat, or begging for food.

Or maybe the introduction to a cakewalk?

Who knows?

The bigger question though is what exactly were they doing there?

The lesson of an anonymous camera bumper and 3 hooters

When something jars your camera trap it usually ruins the set that you so painstakingly composed.

Consider set # 394 at the Chimineas ranch last month.

My colleagues made the set to capture thirsty carnivores at one end of the pond, and they did a commendable job.

Besides the pleasing image of the buck and doe, the camera also captured one frame of this great horned owl, which I have cropped.

On day 19 of the set something bumped into the camera, and the frame changed from this:

to this:

The camera was then viewing a completely different and limited part of the pond.

This kind of thing has been known to evoke some rather colorful language.

In this case however we discovered that two other species of hooters were visiting the pool in the area less trafficked by deer and coyotes.

There was a single image of the barn owl,

and a western screech owl buzzed about and left 6 images.

It stands to reason that not all species use the same area of the pond.