Tag Archives: screech owl

Almost light, and a screech owl still...

By Dave Bonta | Published November 6, 2010 at 7:57 am

Almost light, and a screech owl still calls from down in the hollow—that sepulchral whinny. One croak of a crow stops it cold.

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Ground fog forms at dawn in the bottom...

By Dave Bonta | Published September 13, 2010 at 6:38 am

Ground fog forms at dawn in the bottom corner of the meadow and quickly dissipates. The screech owl’s quaver gives way to soft thrush calls.

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Thick fog prolongs the early-morning...

By Dave Bonta | Published February 23, 2010 at 9:35 am

Thick fog prolongs the early-morning light for hours. The cardinal sings spring while a screech owl quavers over the luminous snow.

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The soft trills of a screech owl an...

By Dave Bonta | Published February 9, 2010 at 7:44 am

The soft trills of a screech owl an hour before dawn. I sip my coffee as quietly as I can.

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A screech owl adds its quaver to the...

By Dave Bonta | Published December 22, 2009 at 8:03 am

A screech owl adds its quaver to the minimal dawn chorus: mourning dove coos, finch and sparrow chirps. Snow and highway noise on the wind.

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Buds swell on the ornamental cherry...

By Dave Bonta | Published April 1, 2009 at 8:50 am

Buds swell on the ornamental cherry beside the porch, unaware that porcupines have girdled the trunk. April Fool! You’re dead.

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A warm morning—53°F. A Cooper’...

By Dave Bonta | Published March 7, 2009 at 9:31 am

A warm morning—53°F. A Cooper’s hawk calls, a screech owl trills, but the squirrels go on rummaging through the leaf litter. I spy a gnat.

 

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Right after a mourning dove’s...

By Dave Bonta | Published March 4, 2009 at 9:56 am

Right after a mourning dove’s song, a screech owl trills at the very same pitch. The sun floats free of the horizon and into the bluest sky.

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Titmouse, screech owl, pileated: three...

By Dave Bonta | Published February 7, 2009 at 7:59 am

Titmouse, screech owl, pileated: three ways to ululate. Orange-bellied clouds below the eaves which are festooned with dangleberries of ice.

 

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A screech owl’s trill, the maniacal...

By Dave Bonta | Published December 26, 2008 at 8:23 am

A screech owl’s trill, the maniacal cry of a pileated—everything sounds like a portent when the sky’s such a lurid red behind the trees.

 

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