After a weekend of cold, rainy weather, the sun coming over the mountains is a brilliant sight. We headed straight for the northern range, hoping to see the Junction Butte Pack, where the pack has localized around Slough Creek during the denning season. But this year has brought a disappointment: a litter born to an uncollared female, who is not the alpha female, did not survive.
We are settling in to our new life in West Yellowstone, after three long days of driving through Texas, New Mexico, Utah and Idaho. The drive from Moab to Provo was amazing. I’ve seen photos of Moab and TV documentaries, but the beauty and enchantment can only be grasped by presence. Being there.
A year without owls, that is how I will remember 2025. The last time I saw a screech owl in our box was December 30, 2024, and now it is almost spring 2026. The entrance to the nest box is chewed around the circumference, evidence of the squirrel who invaded in early January and raised her litter there.
A squirrel invaded our owl box in early January. When we didn’t see the owl for a few days at the end of December, we wondered if he had left the box for a few days, as is normal screech owl behavior. And then a squirrel popped its little head out of the box opening.
The owl pokes his head out of the box each evening around 5, sometimes earlier. He arrived later this year, on November 17, assuming it’s the same screech owl.
Our tour began in Galway where we were picked up by our host, Cait, and driven to Moycullen and Curra Farm where we spent the first three nights of our trip. The stone farmhouse is nestled along the shore of Lough Corrib, the largest lake in the Republic of Ireland and bordered by forest and pastures.
Winter’s chill is back and the owl is back in the box after a week of seasonally warm weather and a torrential rain storm. The owl fidgets in a corner, pokes its beak into the shavings looking for food.
The owl was not in the box today. A sudden panic sets in – has he left? Yesterday an owl was in the box, tearing at some piece of food, probably a bird. This alone was new behavior; until now, the owl has sat in the box contentedly without bringing any prey in, and it seemed possible this was a different owl, perhaps the female?
I watched the owl leave tonight. 6:25 p.m. Each evening a little later as the sun sinks behind the horizon. If I were outside, I would absorb the silence of the day’s shadows. It is almost the end of January. Soon his mate will arrive. We hope. He has not left the box since he arrived. The day he is not there will be a sign.
Sunday morning it was 20º at 9:00 a.m. Overnight the neighborhood transformed into a gray, frozen world: bird baths frozen solid, the backyard silent; not even a wren hopping around the patio.
