Burrower's Row

The Phoenix Metropolitan area is a curious concoction. Phoenix itself is a large city, both in terms of area and population. Surrounding the state capital are ten more small cities: Mesa, Glendale, Scottsdale, Tempe, Avondale, Goodyear, Sun City, Gilbert, Surprise, and Peoria. Stretching out from these locales, neighborhoods and master-planned communities seem to stretch on in all directions. One of my favorite birding sites, the Tres Rios Wetlands, sits near the border between west Phoenix and Avondale. While driving to Tres Rios, you'll pass through the cookie-cutter houses of the master-planned communities, neighborhoods where the pursuit of maximized square-footage was once the highest good (priorities and fashions have since changed). You'll also pass through lots of open, odiferous farmland. If you turn and head west just before you reach the Tres Rios site, and follow a dirt road along the farmland canal, you'll find another little planned community. Between the northern borders of the Tres Rios preserve and Farmington Glen sits Burrower's Row.

There are no signs announcing that, "You have now entered Burrower's Row," but there are still markers, of sorts, so you know when you're in the right spot:

Despite the somewhat slovenly appearance of this particular Owl, the residents of Burrower's Row are a very strict bunch. There is always a sentinel at the eastern-most point of entry, perched high on the telephone lines and supervising the little town's security.

The houses (burrows) are arranged in neat rows along the farmland. At the moment, there appears to be no more than 2 Owls living in each Burrow, though there are at least 4 different pairs of Owls. They have a strict home-owner's association, and they keep their domiciles very tidy. It's a pretty homogenous group. Crime rates and taxes are all very low, but sometimes they react to outsiders with astonishment and suspicion, even from afar.

In the morning and during the day, the residents of Burrower's Row like to stay down in the fields, away from the elevated dirt road and its dusty heat. During the evening, the descending sun holds everything in a warm embrace, saying goodbye with its last rays of yellow light, and promising to rise again soon. The Owls like to perch along the frontage road during this time. They preen, gossip, and replay the day in their heads--much like the rest of us. It is best to visit Burrower's Row during these quiet, well-lit moments.

The owl shown below may well be the sheriff of Burrower's Row. While all the other Burrowers were enjoying the fading light, he seemed determined to maintain his stern and serious face. I would vote to re-elect this Owl for sheriff if it were up to me, but alas I wouldn't even qualify for citizenship in Burrower's Row (which is probably a good thing for all parties involved).

"Drat! I knew I stepped in something..."

For this third and last photo, I couldn't settle on a caption. I'd like to leave this last photo open to suggestions. Is the Owl solemnly swearing revenge? Is it doing some sort of fist pump celebration? Is it seeing if it's possible to walk with one's eyes closed? You tell me, and try to stop by and visit the wonderful residents of Burrower's Run some time soon.

Borrow Your Burrow?

Burrowing Owls are probably one the top five cutest birds of all time. They're small, they live in prairie dogs burrows (and other excavations), they've got owl proportions, and they've got attitude. Somehow I managed to live in Arizona for 18 years without seeing them in the wild, though to be fair I've only been seriously birding for the last couple. I finally got proactive and went out to the Rio Salado preserve in south central Phoenix. There were reported owl sites near an old gravel pit, and the rumors did not disappoint.

A couple of these bold sentinels stood guard above their burrows and watched the setting sun. There is a railed walkway that guides the spectator parallel with the dirt ridge where the owls make their homes, keeping about thirty feet distance between the owl ridge and any onlookers. It was too bad that the evening sun was somewhat behind the birds. But on the other hand, I like this negative lighting. Maybe this is stretching it a bit to say, but there seems to be something very western about that bright setting sun and the silhouettes its leaves, and there's something western about the Burrowing Owls. After all, the sun sets in the west...

There are also communities of Burrowing Owls around the Scottsdale Community College, so I went there in the hopes of getting some closer, albeit less scenic shots. Driving around the campus, I wasn't exactly sure where the owls were supposed to be, but then I had to slam on the breaks! There, standing next to a little drainage hole in the curb of the parking lot sidewalk, was Mr. Owl.

Well, you can't always pick your spot. I was thrilled to see the bird so close, but his position and the lighting did necessitate that I get on the school-side of the parking lot, which meant that the owl's lower half was mostly hidden from the camera. 

As you can see from the red stripe, this Burrowing Owl had made his home, quite illegally, in a No Parking Zone! He seemed quite unconcerned, and spent most of his time looking skywards, though I did not see any hawks or other birds myself.

Here's a quick look at the nictitating membrane, as well as his blurry nostrils.

I really couldn't figure out what he was staring out. Now I think maybe he was just prognosticating, you know, looking into the future? Given this expression, he must have seen something quite shocking. I like how the pupil in the left eye is smaller than the right. Behold, the symbol of WISDOM!

I had a blast with the Burrowing Owls this week. They're beautiful in their whites and browns, and they will give you more expressions in fifteen seconds than any other bird, and probably more than most people.

What're you lookin' at, punk!?

I discovered a family of 4 Burrowing Owls near some farmland just north of the Tres Rios site in west Phoenix on 05/17/2012. The first Owl I spotted was actually perched atop telephone wire (the highest I've ever seen a Burrowing Owl perch). The next three were all sitting atop little marker posts on the edge of the field, watching the sun go down to bring up the night. 

Owl Affairs

Over this past breeding season, Spring through Summer, a female Burrowing Owl nested and fledged eight young. Oddly enough, she did it with two nests. Odder still, one nest was in Arizona, while the other was over 1,100 miles away in Saskatchewan. This incredible behavior was reported in the Wilson Journal of Ornithology 2011 and posted on the American Birding Association blog last week.

This ambitious female was first found on 14 April during a study of Burrowing Owls in the Tucson area. While her first mate was visible guarding the entrance, the female was found inside incubating a single egg (seen with an infrared scope). Both owls were banded on April 27th, and a juvenile was detected on May 21st, but the female owl, who shall henceforth be referred to as Margaret, soon felt dissatisfied with her home life and up'n r-u-n-n-o-f-t. 

Margaret spent the month of June redefining and discovering herself--perhaps she learned to Eat, Pray, and Love while visiting third world countries--before she was rediscovered (by her band) in a pasture in southern Saskatchewan on July 12th. Not only had Margaret settled down again, she had rediscovered her maternal drive! With her new fung shui nest and new Canadian beaux, she fledged seven more young in the reinvigorating Northern climes.

It is not unheard of for owls to re-nest locally with other mates or other burrows, but the sheer distance involved in Margaret's affair has shook the world of behavioral studies to its core. Her Summer gallivant flies against the  governing assumption that (non-human) animals tend to expend the least possible energy, that is, move in the most efficient way, to actualize their survival and progenitorial instincts. Maybe Margaret was just fed up with the Arizona heat. Maybe her first mate wasn't virile enough. While one can wish Margaret the best with her new brood, one must also wonder about her first born. Will she visit that chick on the weekends? Will the male owl ever be able to love again, or is his trust forever shattered?

I've only ever seen the fairly common (and still incredibly cool) Great Horned Owl. I'd love to see and photograph a Burrowing owl in Arizona, or any other owl for that matter. I hope a few of them decide to stick around this year...