I woke up at 5 a.m. to the mournful hoot of a Great Horned Owl. From our gigantic maple tree on the pond, he continued to hoot (very loudly, I will add) on and off for more than an hour, until the first sliver of daylight filtered through our blinds.
We have seen him in the daytime, being pestered by a murder of crows trying to get him to drop a fresh catch of the day (probably rabbit or chipmunk in our neighborhood), and once on a neighbor’s roof, but these visual sightings are far rarer than audible reports of his presence.
Many mornings my wake-up sound is a cheery chip, chip, chip of our resident pair of cardinals, trying to roust me from bed to fill the feeders the raccoons and squirrels empty at night. Like a pair of old married retirees heading off to Perkins before 6 a.m., they appear at the local fly-in restaurant long before the other birds, hungry and eager to share a morning meal.
Even if 5 a.m. is a little earlier than our normal rising time, I welcome the call of our winged friends to get my day started.
Good morning Mr. Owl. How about a compromise? You are welcome to continue to live in our old maple, but could we reset the wake-up call to 5:30 next time?