Mousing An Owl

Field Day #1 - Mousing an Owl

April 20, 2016 - 3:00 AM start for me today. No problems waking, simply too excited and ready for the day to start. Of course I was a bit too excited to fall asleep last night but that was expected considering this will be my first day in the field here in northern New Mexico. These days do not come as often as I would like but I plan on making the most of them.

Today we will be "mousing an owl". If you do not know what that means, don't worry… neither did I. I will tell you, my original thoughts were way off base and I was relieved to find out what it truly meant. In short, we will be trying to get an owl to accept our offering of a mouse. Why do you ask? Well…that is a little bit longer story.

We are going after a Mexican spotted owl . They are on the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service threatened species list, so there are not many of them around. In fact, we only know of a handful of pairs on the Santa Fe National Forest so every little bit of information we can gather from them, the better we can conserve them. A few weeks ago, one of the forest workers heard a new pair of owls calling in a hard to reach canyon. Our job was to arrive in the canyon before first light, locate the owls, then present them with a live mouse in an effort to locate their nest site. You see, soon after acquiring prey owls will often fly directly to their nest to present their bounty to their mate and/or their offspring, thus revealing their nest site. So, when you add all of this together, we are "mousing an owl" today.

I arrive at the ranger station shortly before 4 AM. My partner for today, James, is a wonderful gentleman who I could spend days simply listening to his stories. He is a native American, born on a nearby Pueblo. He probably knows this forest better than anyone alive and if only I had a fraction of his outdoor skills and knowledge, I would consider myself pretty darn woods-worthy.

We grab the few supplies that we need, namely two live mice fresh from the pet store, and we head out.

It takes about an hour to get to our destination, the last 30 minutes involve snaking our way through an old, narrow and no longer maintained logging road. Spotted owls prefer old-growth forests so the scene before us in our dim rays of light reveals we are traveling through a fairly dense forest. Having only been in New Mexico for a couple of months everything is new to me, everywhere I step I step on virgin terrain. Thankfully James knows where he is going for I would already be lost.

We finally arrived at the area we believe the owls are nesting. It is still dark.

We wait a few minutes to let the forest recover from our disturbance for there is one thing man is not when he travels and that it's quiet. Fortunately most forest creatures have short-term memories and within minutes the normal chirps and whistles of a dawning forest returns.

"What do we do now?" I ask James.

"We locate the owls," was his reply.

He pulls out what looks like a bullhorn but rather its a modified speaker that contains a recording of a spotted owl call. To me the call sounds like an abbreviated version of the well-known barred owl.

The call goes out…

"Whoot.....who-who....whooot"

Every ten seconds it repeats.

Five minutes go by without response and the first thought of striking out creeps into my mind. Then James' eyes widen.

"Did you hear 'em?"

I strain my ears (as if that's possible).

Then, almost as if an echo, I hear...

"Whoot.....who-who....whooot"

But this time it doesn't come from the bullhorn contraption.

A few minutes later and without warning, I see the silhouette of an owl floating silently above in the now lightening skies. He lights in a nearby tree.

I freeze.

Terrified to move, so I don't scare him off,  I stretch and strain my unblinking eyes to see what James is doing.

I can dimly make out that he is fidgeting with something from his pack. Maybe it's the mouse?

Damn...It all happened way too quickly!

Now I am stuck here, my position compromised... remaining motionless so as not to mess up this potentially once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Then James made his move.

I was temporarily blinded as 1.4 million candelas stream through the darkness.

"Wanna see 'da owl?" broke the silence.

I chuckled, "Ummm....sure."

James cast the spotlight in the nearby tree and there he sat… a beautiful full-grown adult male Mexican spotted owl. 

At this point you may expect me to say how I was almost moved to tears to see my first endangered (actually threatened) bird. 

I wasn't. 

Don't get me wrong, it was pretty damn cool but deep down I'm a mammal guy. Big scary mean mammal guy. Give me something with sharp canines, strength of multiple men, cunning and stealth to boot...and have THAT staring down at me from the tree, then maybe my pulse will race.

But like I said...it was still pretty darn cool seeing him perched on the branch above. 

And in a blink, he dove from his perch and disappeared into the canyon below.

Ten minutes later we heard the pair calling together. Undoubtedly it was the male and his mate a short distance away, somewhere up on the canyon wall.

James and I grab the gear, including the two mice, and began the trek uphill. The morning had broke.

About a hundred yards shy of the canyon wall the male once again called out. 

He was close.

Just up the hill from us he sat perched about ten feet up in a towering Douglas fir.

This time, James did begin the mornings' exercise. 

Unloading his gear and getting situated about from the tree, James prepared to "mouse the owl".

Did I mention these owls are extremely tolerant of humans? (As I typed that it makes me wonder if that was the cause of them becoming threatened.)

When all was said and done James had a little white mouse tied to the end of a string. Hey...you didn't want the mouse to simply run away now, did you?

"So that owl right THERE is going to come down and take THAT mouse with you standing right HERE?" I asked.

"Yup."

(As you can see, James was a man of many words.)

We waited anxiously. 

That I will turn his gaze and focused on the mouse.

With bated breath we stood motionless waiting to capture the awesome spectacle on camera.

Still we waited.

And waited still.

And then it happened...

...the owl...fell asleep.

Insert the proverbial "wha-wha-whaaa".

After thirty or so minutes of tethering the now thoroughly frightened mouse we concluded the owl was obviously quite full from a long evening of feeding. Either that or there was something mysteriously wrong with our mouse that only the owl was aware of (Ha!).

So... We gathered up the mouse, returned it to its cage, and set off on foot to try to find the nest by pure luck. 

Up to the canyon wall we went.

There were hundreds of potential nest sites ranging from patriarchal trees to time-scoured cliff crevices. Oh, we have an idea of where the female was nestled within the canyon but we could not confirm with absolute certainty. With a smile I am reminded that it probably means another day in the field.

James and I decided to head back to the truck. 

Along the way we stopped to pick up the caged mice who were still sitting at the base of the owl tree. Yes, the owl was still drifting in and out of sleep.

Strangely enough, both mice had expired while under the sleepy gaze of the owl.

Hmmm....maybe that owl was smarter than we thought.

Over the next three or four hours James gave me a tour of the forest that he and his people call home. For thousands of years they communed with and often pursued many of the creatures of the forest. He was an awesome tour guide, sharing with me the knowledge of where I too may one day pursue those same animals. 

When I asked James if he fished as much as he hunted, he calmly shook his head and plainly stated...

"You can't track a fish."

Did I mention James was a man of few words?

The day couldn't have ended any better. As we came around the final bend in the road I asked James one last question. It had to do with an unfamiliar plant I had seen throughout the day. I asked him what it was.

I was humbled that he provided me with the Native American name of the plant.

It was Nachur-charmin.

I asked him if there were any medicinal or other mystical uses for it. He said...

"Sure...ya' use it if ya' have to go in tha' woods...Nice 'n soft!"

With that he smiled.

Who knew I was driving around with a descendent of Mr. Whipple.

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Oftentimes in the field of wildlife biology, the further along you advance your career the fewer the field days become. Simply put, you get outside less and less. So went my time in Tennessee. From spending endless summer nights viewing whitetail deer from behind a thermal imager to tracking down elk on the Cumberland Plateau to hiking in the Smokies hanging countless bait stations in pursuit of the elusive black bear, there was always the opportunity to go afield. Then it changed. I was asked to manage people instead of animals and the days of donning a sport coat and settling internal and external "human" arguments grew longer and in all honesty, "less fun". Don't get me wrong, I still enjoy the office work because I am still talking about and dealing with things I love, but the days afield are special. And these are my days.