Breakfast on the Boardwalk

December 14, 2016

My days at Congaree National Park are often filled with fascinations. Sometimes, I am lucky enough to post my observations on Facebook or include them in my vlog. More often, I encounter things and events that aren’t recorded, except in memory. This is a short story of a captivating event where I was in the right place at the right time.

This morning like many others, I set out to survey potential netting sites for the evening. Piper and I decided that I should check out the Summer Strip while she surveyed Kingsnake Trail. This area, known as the Summer Strip, is located behind the visitor’s center and has historically held a high number of roosting bats. My plan was to survey this area then travel south to check out a few other potential sites before returning by noon.

I left the fieldhouse according to plan and arrived in back of the visitor’s center. I investigated our identified cavity roosts and listened for our “transmittered” bats. I was enjoying the morning’s weather. These early hours were cool and wet from last night’s rain. There was a stillness in the air but a kind of quiet that allowed the fauna to be heard more vividly than usual. For me, it’s all about the experience. On days like these, I don’t mind laying on the wet ground in search of sleeping bats. Getting a little dirty and wet makes me feel more connected to my job. I finished my search of the Summer Strip and identified a potential netting site. Now, I was headed south.

As I walked the boardwalk, not far from me, I saw a Barred Owl land in a tree. They are a magnificent bird of prey that are adapted to hunt these woods. To my delight, Congaree has been known to contain the highest density Barred Owls. During the daylight hours and more so at night, I hear their haunting calls. Every other day, if not more frequently, I see one of these birds. Their grandness and hallowed stare compels me to experience their presence. I am always excited when one chooses to land near me.

This time was no different. The hunter turned its head to identify me. I silenced my telemetry receiver and advanced slowly and quietly down the boardwalk towards the gray form, beckoned by those eyes. The surrounding squirrels came alive with their barks and cries. They prompted attention to the potential threat. The commotion served as warning for anything caught in those hallowed eyes.

I crept half way to it. Hoping to get closer, I soon realized that I had the perfect seat for what was about to unfold. The owl glided into flight and silently buzzed an alarmed squirrel that was fastened to the side of a tree trunk, not thirty meters from me. I was mesmerized; I was experiencing the thrill of the hunt!

The owl landed in another tree then bobbed its head. Again it took flight and narrowly missed the opportunity. After a few more attempts, I began to wonder if the bird was taunting its prey. I didn’t know who to cheer. I stood motionless as I watched the situation play out.

After another pass, a small gray blob fall to the ground and another moved around the tree and out of sight. The squirrel ran down the tree as the owl buzzed the ground in search of the little fluff. Before the owl’s next pass, the squirrel ran a short distance away from the tree and began to bark in an attempt to warn or lure the aggressor away from her defenseless young. The bird was not impressed and continued to harass the little squirrel.

The mother knew that her attempt to distract the owl was futile. She ran back to the tree and tried carrying the doomed morsel to safety. In hindsight, taking her young up the tree may have made it an easier target. No longer was it protected by the dead branches on the ground. The next pass was successful and the predator carried the shrieking animal away. Once the perched, the meal was silenced.

I had no desire to stay for breakfast. My feelings were mixed; I was happy for the owl and sad for the young squirrel. This is the cycle of life and who am I to argue for the predator or the prey?