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Bubo, The Great Horned Owl: A little too up close and personal

An account by Marcia Schneider, Docent for Red Oak Nature Center, N. Aurora, IL; submitted by Marcia Schneider, TFT volunteer

 

The Owl had been released from its cage at the Red Oak Nature Center on a Friday evening. We were hopeful that over the weekend, an attempt at returning her to the wild would be quieter and more amenable to a successful re-acclimation to owl life. We named her Bubo, in honor of her genus and species, Bubo Virginianus, the Great Horned Owl.

 

Bubo came to us after an intense ice storm which brought down the tall oak tree where the giant owl nest with a mother and two babes had been nestled inside. Of the three, one owlet survived. She was promptly brought to the nature center by a kind rescuer. We were all in hopes that we could care for her until she was old enough and hunt-savvy enough to live on her own in the wild.

 

Bubo’s large outdoor cage was made from an old wiry corn crib and situated in our wooded acreage. It was big enough for her to fly in, and airy enough to give her proximity to her natural environment. She was given live mice (don’t ask where we got them) so she could learn to hunt. At a little more than one year old, she was deemed ready to be released.

 

GHO owlet who doesn’t know yet that he is nocturnal. (Photo by Jim Scheider)

 

Come the following Monday morning, I gathered up the newly arrived class of 25 kindergartners and chaperones who had come to the center for a nature hike through the woods, led by me, one of the docents. It was a beautiful, sunny day as I led the group single-file down the well-worn trail. One very chatty young man insisted that he be the leader, so I let him walk in front of me. Periodically I would stop the group and point out something fun to see in the woods. 

 

Just as we traversed a bend in the trail, sitting on a low branch and staring at me intently was, you-guessed-it, Bubo. I said, “Look boys and girls, you won’t see a Great Horned Owl in the daytime very often! They are nocturnal, so this is an amazing moment.”  And with that, she swooped down out of the tree with her 54-inch wingspan and wild-eyed glare, landing at the feet of the very surprised little boy at the lead. In a second of raw fear, I snatched up the boy and placed him on the other side of me, while yelling to the teacher at the other end of the group to turn around, walk everyone slowly back to the nature center building, and alert the director that we had an up-close and way too personal encounter with our favorite GHO, whom was now at my feet and looking me straight in the eye. 

 

In general, you should not look a Great Horned Owl in the eye, especially one who has a menacing expression on her face and is standing at my feet, bobbing her head up and down and pecking at the hem of my jeans. Apparently, the weekend experiment of releasing Bubo back to the wild was not a dazzling success. I was ID’ed as a feeder and she was hungry. People who wore the familiar green shirts at the nature center frequently brought her tasty snacks.

 

Google AI states, “You generally should not stare intensely at a Great Horned Owl, as it can be seen as a threat or stressor, but a brief, respectful eye contact is natural and might be tolerated, especially if you keep your distance and the owl seems calm; however, if the owl shows signs of agitation (wide eyes, head bobbing, blinking rapidly), you are too close and should back away slowly, as direct stares signal focus or challenge in their world.”

 

After 30 seconds of exchanging glares, I turned my back to her and slowly began walking away. At first, she followed and continued to peck at my jeans. But after a couple of minutes, she gave up, and I never looked back.  Back at the center, the staff gathered all the school groups in attendance and sequestered them in the building. The director, Jim, who was usually quiet and unassuming, was in all-out crisis mentality. He told the five of us that we had to go back on the trail to find Bubo. because she had breached nature center protocol. It is against policy to swoop out of a tree and land at the feet of unsuspecting grade school children. 

 

I led the way to the scene of the crime as we all queried exactly what we would do if we found her. At that thought, we saw her in the exact same tree, and as is her new M.O., she swooped down from the branch and landed at our feet. Jim’s adrenaline hit a spike and in a  moment of uncontained bravery, he snatched the big bird from behind, face and talons facing away from him.  He then began the quarter mile trek back to the nature center. We were all shocked and frozen in the moment, until one of us said, “we have to go with him!”  As we got close to the center, Jim began barking orders. “Open the door.” Once inside the building he began to lose his grip on the bird. “Throw those big gloves on the table!” He stood the owl on top of the gloves and adjusted his hold. “Open the basement door!”  Down the steps we went in clump. “Open that cage!” And into a cage that could barely contain her, Bubo went, in a fury of protest. 

 

Depending on one’s perspective, this can be a happy or sad ending to the story. The experiment to return her to the wild had failed.  Bubo had a few uncomfortable days in the cage, but was then returned to her roomier corn silo cage outside at the center. It is profoundly more appreciated than the smaller one. She is to live out her days there, protected and well-fed, and she is also an awesome ambassador and teacher of the natural world for her many visitors.

 

Great Horned Owl (Photo by Jim Schneider)