Good Natured: Mama Great Horned Owl has returned

She’s ba-ack.

Our neighbor, that is. The quiet one who keeps to herself.

I don’t mean to sound like we’re disrespectful, or unobservant, but frankly it took us a while to notice her. Only within the past few weeks has it become apparent that, indeed, Mama Great Horned Owl has returned.

Here at Hickory Knolls we are blessed with not only our own 130-acre natural area, but also the large open expanses of land at the Illinois Youth Center, aka the St. Charles boys home, next door. Over the course of the year, all sorts of wildlife are drawn to this vast, undeveloped space. Some, like the great blue herons, are quite obvious. Each spring they come back to their rookery – a collection of, I believe, seven nests in the oak trees by the boys home pond. Amid much flapping and squawking, they spruce up their nests and set about the business of raising their young.

But Mama Owl, well, her return is a completely different story. After she and her mate complete their courtship rituals – who-whooing their way through November and December – they both turn down the volume and start setting up housekeeping.

For this particular pair, that means returning to exactly the same area – the rookery – and choosing a heron nest to call their own. That in itself isn’t all that unique, at least not for great horned owls – or actually even for owls in general. As a group, these birds of prey adopt existing structures and adapt them for use as nesting sites. It could be a nest of a squirrel or crow; it could be a large tree cavity. It could also be the unoccupied nest of a red-tailed hawk. Or a heron. As long as it’s large enough and sturdy enough to support the female, her eggs and, eventually, owlets, it’ll do.

At any rate, once the nest is chosen, the owls grow quiet. Even though they are nearly invincible – a nickname for great horned owls is flying tigers – their eggs and offspring are vulnerable. It’s best to not attract attention, and believe you me, great horned owls definitely don’t.

What works great for them can make things a little tough for us. Each year, starting in January, we trek out to the spot on our property where we can view, with either binoculars or spotting scope, the trees that are maybe 75 yards away. Standing just so, often squinting, we see the outlines of the nests – large masses of sticks arranged high in the trees.

This year Miss Jeanette, our outreach coordinator, made regular checks of the area with her Wednesday morning walking group, the Happy Hikers. It was toward the end of January that she came back with a report of a possible owl sighting.

Using two fingers from each hand and sticking them up behind her head, to simulate the namesake feather tufts that jut from the top of a great horned, Jeanette said, “I think I see her.” She then added that she couldn’t be positive because what she perceived as feather tufts might also just be twigs from the nest projecting up at similar angles.

[Fun fact: Those feathers are often mistaken for ears. Owl ears, however, are located on either side of the head, much like human ears, but without any outward structures. The tufts serve purposes that range from communication to camouflage, but have nothing to do with hearing.]

As the weeks progressed, Jeanette stepped up her nest monitoring, bringing along binoculars to better see the stick-tufts. Three weeks ago she confirmed that, indeed, they were feathers. Even better, they were attached to Mama Owl, who remained steadfast in her mission to keep her eggs warm.

Two weeks ago, Jeanette recruited our coworker, Denis, and his spotting scope, and they were able to see not only the feather tufts, but also Mama’s eyes, staring back at them. Last week, Mama was sitting noticeably higher in the nest, which indicates that her brood had hatched and are growing.

Papa Owl has not yet been sighted, but likely is in the area. His job is to provision his family with protein-rich meals – mice, voles, rabbits and whatever else his sharp vision and keen hearing can detect.

I would guess that in the coming weeks we’ll be able to get a sense of just how many owlets are in the nest. They’ll continue to eat and grow throughout the month of March, and in April will begin “branching” – leaving the nest to perch on branches and stretch and flex their wings.

By the end of April – as the herons are readying their nests – the owls will no longer be living in the structure. But they’ll still be close by. It takes much of the summer for owl parents to show their offspring the finer points of survival in the wild.

If you’d like a chance to see them now, and watch them grow, come on over to Hickory Knolls. We can direct you to the area where viewing is best. Mind you, it is quite a distance from the nest, and with those fences in the way the line of sight isn’t perfect. But with binoculars or a spotting scope, you can see their activity pretty well.

Take a cue from Mama Owl. Stay quiet and keep to yourself. You – and she – will be glad you did.

• Pam Otto is the manager of nature programs and interpretive services at the Hickory Knolls Discovery Center, a facility of the St. Charles Park District. She can be reached at 630-513-4346 or potto@stcparks.org.