By Roxanna McLaughlin
It was a cold, overcast February morning in the Lodgepole Pine and Douglas Fir wooded hills of Timberline Creek. Earlier, I had sprinkled fine chip sunflower seeds along the railing of our deck, always a favorite for chickadees, woodpeckers, and, this time of year, flocks of Gray Crowned Rosy Finches. Now, I was headed back outside to try to blow a soap bubble on the wooden railing of our deck to see whether it would freeze before it popped. But as I stepped out of my sliding door, I noticed an unusual sight on the deck floor.
What appeared to be an oddly shaped dark form, on closer observation, proved to be a small owl, sitting on top of its prey, a Gray Crowned Rosy Finch!
The owl’s round head, covered in dark brown feathers, speckled on top with tiny flecks of white, the false eye spots on the back of the neck and the long tail all helped me identify the predator as a Northern Pygmy Owl, Glaucidium gnoma. The Latin name refers to its glaring eyes and those marks on the back of the neck. Year-round residents to montaine forests, these little raptors hunt by day. They are smaller but more plump than a Mountain Bluebird, yet sometimes take prey up to three times their own size. I have heard the gentle “toot….. toot…“ calls of this bird in our forest, but it has been 12 years since I have actually seen one. Today, this little owl gazed at me with eyes as yellow as its hooked beak as I quietly went back inside, not wanting to disturb it. Fortunately, from inside my home, I was able to observe the raptor from my window as it devoured its prey.
At first, the owl was pulling flesh from the head of the bird. I wondered if this was instinct, taking the highly caloric fat of the brain first, in case the owl got interrupted or chased away from its kill. No other birds were bothering the owl so far, so next, it went to plucking the flight feathers of one wing. Each pull of the owl’s beak was so strong, the finch’s body turned a bit, gradually rotating the pair 180 degrees before the owl paused. I observed that the owl was using a process of effort, rest, and then more effort to consume its meal.
If they are disturbed, these little owls are known to stash their kills in crevices of trees or upon thorns of bushes to eat later. On this day, however, the owl was comfortable enough to continue its meal right there on our deck. In the periods of rest, the owl took time to peer over its own back in my direction, as well as scan the surrounding area in constant vigilance.
I had an appointment to keep, so I had to end my observations after a couple hours. At that time, I saw our resident Clark’s Nutcrackers returning to feed nearby, and they took turns flying a few feet above the owl, as if keeping a wary eye on this fierce little hunter. When I returned home later in the afternoon, all that remained of the finch were scattered flight feathers that the wind had blown off the deck. I like to think that the Northern Pygmy Owl was resting somewhere, its appetite appeased for now.
Listen for the ‘Toot… Toot….Toot…..” song of this owl on fall and winter days. This is the territorial call of the male, often made as he sits atop a tall tree. You are very lucky if you are fortunate enough to see one up close; their feathers and size make them nearly invisible as they sit and watch for their next meal.
Roxanna McLaughlin is a 14 year resident of Timberline Creek and a Certified Master Naturalist. She can often be found hiking, kayaking, bird watching, camping, rock climbing, or peering into the dirt of the forest floor to see what might be crawling around.