The owl box is up. It is a fine structure made of cedar and mounted on a high pole to keep squirrels out. Tim painted it a light tan to blend in among the oak trees and the rest of the backyard; it even fits in with the color of the house. So now we wait. A camera inside the box illuminates the inside, but so far the fresh sawdust has not been tamped down, though a titmouse did sit on the perch and peek in.
We stood in the grass arena, six of us and our horses. Mallory and Romi, Amy and Zeke, Suzi and Stuart, Betty and Sophie, Kate and Drake, and me and Willis. Cal Middleton was in the middle of us working with Romi as we all watched carefully, trying to take in every slightest move he made.
Summer has unofficially begun. The cool mornings of April have warmed to 70º at 7 a.m. and the temperature gradually rises to the high 80s at mid-day, sometimes even 90º. Sunday’s rain cooled us for a while; the evening breezes sooth Daisy and I as we walk through the school yard in the evenings.
The owlets are now about 21 days old. They look like tiny ostriches when they stretch their necks and heads up and rotate their faces. Staring straight into the camera, they do not know they are being watched. The owl box is the only world they know, with its cedar shavings and scattered feathers.