I almost named this post Hitchcockian Hootenanny, until my fellow wildlife lovin’ girlfriend pointed out that a group of owls is indeed….yup…a parliament. I’ll ask George Clinton and Bootsy Collins for forgiveness another time.
I’ve become that crazy wildlife chick and I can’t apologize enough. My small readership has just evaporated I’m sure, but I can’t help myself. After 10 months of mystery and wonder, the elusive owls have decided it’s time to teach the kids how to hunt….10 feet from my window.
The flurry of hushed excitement in the house is accompanied by my incessant snapping of photos, and the bold, yet stealthy, step outside to try and get a bit closer. The owls start to gather and fly toward me rather than fleeing….at which point, my crafty counterpart decides that, maybe, I might want to step back inside. Please let me be smarter than Tippi Hedren… (although I did dress as her a couple of Halloweens…hmmm..)
BTW, my new stalkers are barred owls aka hoot owls..however, I am NOT politely asked “who cooks for you”, but am offered menacing screeches I discern as “give me a chipmunk or I’ll claw your eyes out!”
Noted….moving back inside to talk about cheap stuff again.