Mr. Macho Bubo Virginianis (Latin name for Great Horned Owl...see, you can learn stuff on my blog) was out in the tree across from the barn. And yet again, no begging calls, just a ready-for-love owl strutting his stuff. I would have tried for a better shot of Junior, but the batteries in the camera died.
I didn't mind being at RAPTOR this morning, versus late at night, because it was getting lighter instead of just more and more darkness.
I had FIVE presentations at a high school today, beginning at 8:00. The first presentation was in the lecture hall:
A nice room, but some different maps and such were painted on the walls, and this one was particularly disturbing:
And then, they moved the birds and me to an empty, cold gym.
And check this out. They paid for the presentations in cash...all in singles and fives:
It felt illegal. I felt like a drug dealer.
"Hey, man, want some heavy raptor action?"
I have come to the realization that I love pigeons. I know that most birders think them akin to rats with feathers, but I have never been one to give a damn what others think. At the exit ramp on the way to RAPTOR, there are always a flock of pigeons hanging out over the traffic lights. And there is one, cute little white pigeon who always sticks out among all the others. See him?