When food is scarce in far-north forests, owls fly south to look for it, many along the shores of Lake Superior. I don't have the patience to look for birds. But when they come right to me. First it was the boreal owl in St. Croix State Park. We didn't realize how unusual it is to see an alert, curious boreal owl that far south and during the day β they're nocturnal β till we were hiking in Duluth and followed a stream of people to a red pine, where a balled-up boreal owl was sleeping on a high branch.
Birders from around the nation had gathered to see it, and they were thrilled. One man from Texas had called in sick to fly north and see it.
The next owl we saw was a great gray outside town. The birders had told us where to find it, and we assumed there would be a crowd surrounding it. We've seen a lot of owls at the International Festival of Owls in the southeast Minnesota town of Houston.
But seeing them in the wild is different. We saw the little boreal owl in St. Croix State Park, 75 miles south of Duluth, only because a friend heard a tree creak and looked up. There it was, sitting on a low branch next to the trail, looking at us. It was so close we could see its cream-and-caramel breast feathers rustling in the breeze. Occasionally, it blinked or swiveled its head in that creepy "Exorcist" style β owls have long and flexible necks and can turn their heads degrees.
I felt bad later, when I read that people need to be very quiet and keep a distance from these owls, who wouldn't be there if they weren't stressed and starving.
