This is Molly. Molly is sitting on eggs in California and we are hoping to get a peek at them and the little owlets as they hatch!

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Four children stand in the walkway, huddled together against the cold.  Two came out without a jacket.  One didn’t bother with shoes.  It’s hovering just above freezing.  They stand silently, listening.  It is a rare moment of quiet.

What do they sound like, Mommy? [Whoo whowhowho Whooo]

“Whoo whowhowho Whooo,” I call back. Partially to let Bug know what she is listening for, partially in hopes the owl will answer.  The sun hasn’t set yet, but they’ve been calling to each other since I came out to lock up the chickens.

Are they in our woods?  {Whoo whowhowho Whooo}

No, I whisper back.  I point to the treeline where the calls are coming from.

Will it eat me?  {Whoo whowhowho Whooo}

Her timing is impeccable.

Bear starts to giggle.  I have no idea why. {Whoo whowhowho Whooo} I raise my eyebrows at him, ask him if he wants to go inside.

Silence is his answer.

They all answer with silence.  A minute of total silence as they strain their ears.  Bug and Bear look off into the woods, as if hoping to see something.  Mouse stares at the ground, concentrating only on listening.  L.E.Fant stares at me.

Another minute goes by.  A dog barks in the distance.

Another minute.  The setting sun is beginning to turn the sky a fiery red.

Are the coyotes coming out, yet, mommy? {Whoo whowhowho Whooo}

Shhh, I answer reassuringly.  Hunter is right here.  He’ll let us know if any come this way.

Another minute.  They are straining their ears, standing on tiptoe.  And finally, echoing through the silence of sunset:

Whoo whowhowho Whooo Who Who Whooo, calls a Great Horned Owl.

Their faces light up.

Whoo whowhowho Whooo Who Who Whooo, answers the prospective mate.

I don’t have to ask if they heard, their eyes are beaming with excitement.

“It is breeding season for the Great Horned Owl,” I tell them as we go inside to warm up.  “They will lay their eggs in an open nest at the top of a tree while there is still snow on the ground.”

“Won’t the babies get cold?”

“The owlets have their mommy and daddy to keep them warm and to feed them.  Mommy will stay on the nest and brood them, while daddy hunts for food.  That’s why we have to take extra special care to lock up our chickens.  They would love a nice juicy chicken for dinner.”

The children giggle. I tell them about the Great Horned Owl’s range, its habitat, how it uses the nest of other birds or even squirrels to raise its young.  I tell them how I once “talked” to an owl for twenty minutes before it flew in for a closer look.  Suddenly, there was a huge owl perched on a telephone pole, looking menacingly down at me and I wanted to know what I had been saying all that time.

Apparently, I was neither threatening its territory, nor particularly attractive in owl terms for it flew off almost immediately.  But it was the closest I had ever come to a wild Great Horned Owl, and it left an impression on me.

The children’s questions taper off as they get absorbed in other tasks.  I tell them the owls will likely continue to call for some time, while they lay eggs and rear their young.  Owl calls can be heard for miles, I say, but they don’t sound that far away.

If we keep listening, maybe we’ll get to hear their babies.  I’ve never heard a baby owl before.

They smile, and go on with their play.

More on the Great Horned Owl if you are interested.  Now is a great time to take children out to try to listen for them because they will be calling frequently until they have bred.

Image courtesy of Wikipedia.

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The Carnival of Homeschooling is up at SmallWorld!

homeschooling homeschoool home education Great Horned Owl owls

I’m sitting in a hotel room after a long, but pleasant day of driving.  Three hundred thirty miles is a hike when you are alone with five children, one of whom is only four weeks old.  Fortunately, he seems to like sleeping in a car better than in this hotel room at the moment.  At least I don’t have to find a place to pull over to take care of him here.  We are on our way to see this:

The Sandhill Cranes as they take a break on their migration back to Canada . . . a t least that is what I am hoping to see and share with the children. They are looking forward to a few leisurely hours under the observation bridge poking sticks in the water while the cranes fill the surrounding sandbars.

This is our second year to see the cranes and as I planned the trip, our one big overnight field trip of the year, I couldn’t help but wonder how this money would be better spent.  Should we come to see the cranes every year, or should we use that money to go somewhere different every year?  Is there greater educational value in exploring new places or in revisitig the familiar?

Two years ago, I began thinking more intentionally about how to build a reflective homeschool after reading an essay by D. H. Lawrence.  He notes that we know it all and have done it all as we skim across the surface of the globe, but this knowledge is superficial.

Poor creatures that we are, we crave for experience, yet we are like flies that crawl on the pure and transparent mucous-paper in which the world like a bon-bon is wrapped so carefully that we can never get at it, though we see it there all the time as we move about it, apparently in contact, yet actually as far removed as if it were the moon.  (The Spell of New Mexico, ed. by Tony Hillerman, p. 29-30)

Vertical knowledge, that which penetrates to true understanding, requires us to move at a much slower pace.  And as my children bounce at the edge of the bed, excited to go back to the bridge, I’m thinking that maybe there is far more to be learned in returning to the same place year after year, like a signpost to the changing seasons.  Rather than merely learning about the cranes, we can share a brief leg of their journey with them.

Lori Potter of the Kearney Hub says there is poetry in the Sandhill Crane’s behavior.  Indeed, volumes could be filled with the literary tributes made to these magnificent birds as they make their stopover here along the Platte River.  When you study a poem, you dissect it, put it back together and analyze how the parts fit together.  Sometimes, however, a poem touches you and you return to it again and again, savoring it rather than merely studying it.

And I suppose you can do that under the observation bridge as well as on top of it.

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Update: Some pictures from our trip and the countywide state of emergency that was called due to an out of control fire.

Not quite the same, but if you are unable to make the trek to Nebraska to share in the crane migration, you can watch a bit of it on the crane cam set up at Rowe Sanctuary.

Regarding animals and the weather, I’d have to say Sam Gribley’s nuthatch would have been a good forecaster. Here, the score is:

As is often the case when I’m reading blogs, The Common Room’s observations on ‘minding animals‘ left me thinking about other, related subjects. I couldn’t help but think of “My Side of the Mountain” when young Sam Gribley shares with us how you perceive the weather differently when you are in it and subject to its changes. Animal behavior changes dramatically with the weather, and the more you ‘mind the animals’ the more you can tell when the weather is about to change for the worse.

This morning, as I looked out at my feeders, I had a feeling that the bright sunny day and melted snow was not indicative of the weather for the day. Thirty eight goldfinches, the largest group I have ever seen at one time, were lined up at the feeders. Our finch feeder serves eight at a time, and normally when more arrive, the remainder wait patiently in the bush for their turn. But today, the finch feeder was full, the hopper was busy, there was a fight going on in the platform feeder and the ground was alive with fluttering finches looking for dropped seeds.

As I write this, the sky is darkening and snow is beginning to fall. The wind is howling. And just a minute ago there were 45 goldfinches at our feeding station.

Many of my readers know we are participating in FeederWatch this year, and, among other things, we have enjoyed witnessing how the activity level at our feeders changes according to the weather. The nicer it is, the fewer birds we have…unless a storm is coming. Then we can hardly keep the feeders full. For anyone who missed joining FeederWatch this year or thought it was too much of a commitment, the Great Backyard Bird Count is coming up February 16-19. No registration is necessary and you can watch birds from anywhere you like. They only ask that you commit to watching for birds for at least 15 minutes, but you can watch longer if you choose.

During the last snow storm, we made an attempt at photographing the hustle and bustle at our feeders. The pictures are sort of dark because it was cloudy, snowy and they were taken through a window.

Here is my favorite, the Dark-eyed Junco. Juncos are migratory birds, and winter here while our wimpy native birds head further south. They feed exclusively on the ground, making them rather inconspicuous unless there is snow cover.

This little American Tree Sparrow is one of North America’s native sparrows. He is a new visitor for us. I first noticed him because he was feeding differently. House sparrows sweep with their beaks while eating, which can be annoying when they are at your feeders. They spray the seeds everywhere. But our native sparrows uncover seeds by hopping back and forth, scratching with their feet. I had never noticed this behavior before, and then noticed the different color on his head and was able to identify him. He is also a winter visitor to Nebraska.

Last but not least is this monster of a sparrow. He looks like he is on steroids. You can’t tell the size here, but we knew we had something interesting when a sparrow the size of a cardinal showed up. I hadn’t a clue what it was. I knew the Harris’ Sparrow was quite a large, native sparrow, and one which I had looked forward to hopefully attracting to our feeding station. A little research confirmed that this big guy is a juvenile Harris’ Sparrow. This is most assuredly his first migration south! Soon he’ll be flying home to his native tundra in Northern Canada.

Hopefully you’ll take some time to check out the Great Backyard Bird Count! Let me know if you decide to participate. Happy birding!

Related Tags: FeederWatch, Great Backyard Bird Count, birding, birdwatching, homeschool, education

We are enjoying our bird project, and the official FeederWatch program has not even begun, yet. Now that we have new windows and our sunroom remains a comfortable temperature despite the temperature extremes outdoors, I am looking forward to moving the bulk of our education out there so we can keep on eye on the feeders. Previously, my son would run and check every so often and report back to us on the activity. He is only three and getting quite good at identifying our birds…he recognizes goldfinches, sparrows and robins at the moment. Our favorite is the little nuthatch that visits us several times per day. I’m assuming it is the same one, because they are highly territorial. Anyway, he loves hanging upside down. So although he could easily perch on the feeder “properly” to take a sunflower seed, he prefers to hang from the top and snatch up a seed. He then carries it to a nearby tree, wedges it in the bark, and cracks it open.

The other bird we really enjoy visiting is our “gray finch.” Now, there really is no such thing. But gold finches are supposed to be in their winter plumage right now. They all look something like this, with some degree of variation in shading and brightness:

But not this regular visitor. I keep calling it a her because her colors are duller, but I really don’t know. At first, I did not know what “she” was, because she didn’t match anything in the bird guide. However, she is the same size and shape as the other goldfinches. She comes and goes with them in a small flock of five or six birds. And her markigs are the same. Here is the best photo I have of her (she is near the back of the bath). On the edge of the birdbath, you can see a “normal” goldfinch. He has his feathers puffed up from the cold. Someone should tell him not to bathe in ice water!

Our newest visitor is this little guy, an Audobon’s warbler. They don’t normally come to feeders, but this one wanted a bath. And if that goldfinch above thought the water was cold, he should have talked to this guy. He bathed in a hole in the ice that the robins had pecked out! This isn’t a picture I took, but is from this site.

We finally had a small group of dark-eyed juncos, a popular winter visitor in Nebraska. I’m hoping yet to see that favorite of feeder birds, the chickadee.

Related Tags: homeschooling, home school, FeederWatch, birding