The owls play hide and seek, obscured in forest foliage or camouflaged to blend in with their surroundings, the barred pattern of feathers matching mottled alder tree bark. Apart from occasional hooting calls, they’re so silent and still that months pass without finding one.
Walking in the woods during winter, I often wonder where they are, or better yet, what tree hollow houses next springs young. I have yet to see one of their nests, though I’m not sure I want to…part of my fascination is the mysterious return of baby owls at about the same time each year, like tulips and roses blooming after a cold, dark season.
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