The Death Zone
As published in A Peek at the Peak, September 2000 issue, updated June 2015
by Susan Kantro
Part One. Cry for Help
A Peek at the Peak, September 2000, Cover
“Come over and see this baby owl in my backyard.”‘ It was an early morning last April and my neighbor Kathleen was calling me from the fence in my backyard. I envisioned a small creature, but once I got in her yard I saw a large (approximately two feet tall), baby Great Horned owl standing calmly under a tree. I walked slowly toward the owl and when I got within a foot, it began clacking its beak and opened its large yellow eyes. This noble-looking creature had apparently fallen from its nest and made its way into Kathleen’s backyard. I was struck by the owlet’s stately attitude – a
dignified, portly figure enrobed in fluffy down. I began reverently snapping pictures from various angles, watching his swiveling head with blazing eyes tracking my actions. As Kathleen and I pondered our next move, we were interrupted by the desperate cries of the parent owl. We felt the moment was too delicate for intervention by untrained hands and placed a call to Wild At Heart .
Wild At Heart is a nonprofit, all volunteer wildlife rescue and rehabilitation organization in Cave Creek specializing in the conservation and preservation of Arizona’s birds of prey (hawks, owls, falcons and eagles) collectively referred to as raptors.
While waiting for someone from Wild At Heart to arrive I checked on how our feathered friend was doing. Somehow he had made his way from Kathleen’s yard to mine and was now in the shade of my eucalyptus tree. The hooting calls from the parent owl, now perched at the top of the tree, seemed to soothe the youngster. I went into my house to avoid adding to their stress.
A volunteer for Wild At Heart, Melissa Hovitz, examined the juvenile and determined his age as approximately seven weeks.
Melissa Movitz, a veterinary student and volunteer from Wild At Heart, arrived and immediately examined the juvenile bird. The clacking beak, open eyes, and response to the parent confirmed the owlet was not sick. Determining all was well, it was decided that Felix (Kathleen’s name for our new friend) be returned to the wash behind our two houses.
He was placed in a tree near a saguaro where I had often seen large owls in the evening. Both Kathleen and I were exhilarated to be in the roles of guardian and ambassador of this young Great Horned owl. It was especially rewarding to be able to repatriate Felix to his natural habitat.
After Felix’s return to his home, we kept a look out for our friend by scanning the horizons of r property and local wash. On most evenings at dusk, I would stand in my backyard with my binoculars to check on Felix and make sure an adult owl was nearby. I often spotted him, as if he’d been waiting for me to check on him for the night.
One evening I was astounded to see that Felix was accompanied by a larger sibling. It seemed he was showing his sibling the human who had helped him get through a bad day. From then on they were always observed together. It became part of my routine to watch them in the early morning and at twilight, accompanied at times by one or both adults.
“Owl in the Spring” by Kay Suchomel, 2011 Summer Fun Photography Contest Entry
Within two weeks Felix was flying and soon he was perfecting his art of flight which included efforts to attain higher and higher perches. Eventually, I began to see Felix and his larger sibling perched on my neighbor’s chimney, the highest point in the area besides the utility poles. One or both parents were usually nearby. I could often locate the two owlets by the loud noises they made, a cross between a screech and a chirp. I assumed they were beckoning their parents.
The two juvenile owls’ antics were very comical. Their heads bobbed, their clumsy attempts at footing seemed as if they were learning to dance for the first time, and all the while flapping and stretching their wings like they were being fitted for a new suit. When they weren’t playing they were usually nestled together, apparently taking comfort in the contact of each other’s bodies, or preening each other. It was extremely gratifying to see them grow and flourish, and I felt privileged have a close-up view of these noble birds. I often felt they were putting on a show for me to thank me for reuniting them. It was a true joy to watch them flying freely and interacting together.
I didn’t know then that Felix and his sibling would soon be dead.
Related Articles
The Death Zone: Part Two. Senseless Deaths – To be published in June 2015
The Death Zone: Part Three. What You Can Do – To be published in June 2015
Our Birds of Prey Need Your Help – Published June 13, 2015
About the Author
Susan Kantro, an artist and bird lover, has lived in Cave Creek for almost twenty years. Born in Washington, D.C., she moved here from New Orleans and was thrilled and amazed to see Great Horned Owls and other birds of prey from her backyard. She has distributed original brochures to local vet offices and feed stores for the last two decades informing the public how they can help these magnificent creatures survive. Susan can be contacted at susan_k@q.com.
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