An Owl In The House

Remember the old Topper movies?

Okay, I am dating myself... but for those of you who do and those of you who don't this is a story about a little 'ghost', named Kirby. Well, she's not really a ghost but she was named after those comedic and sophisticated ghosts, George and Marian Kirby in the Topper movies. And, as far as we can tell, barn owls were probably the original ‘ghost’ given their habit of nesting in old abandoned buildings, silent flight (which often appears as a white shape floating by) and blood curdling scream.

When our little ghost arrived at the sanctuary, she was orphaned, newly hatched, suffering from exposure and badly injured. The rest of her nest mates (some were not yet out of their shells) had perished in a fall from their destroyed nest at the top of a silo. It was a worrisome touch and go for weeks for this little Barn Owl but she was determined to live and somehow this little trooper survived.

We attempted to find a wild nest or foster parents for her but since none were available, we raised her ourselves and soon, she became a member of the family. A bossy little member at that! She would insist on being the first to any freshly filled water bowl for a drink or, if she was in the mood, a nice long leisurely floor soaking bath while our dogs Max, a Standard Poodle and Major, a Collie were forced watch and wait on line. Which they did because, after all, Kirby ruled the roost and there was no question who was in charge.

She loved to play practical jokes, particularly on Max who was, understandably, afraid of her. She hid his toys, made surprise attacks on his tail while he slept and would emerge out of nowhere just to get a rise out of her favorite benign and unsuspecting target. Then she'd fly off chuckling all the way to her favorite birds-eye view retreat at the top of my family heirloom, a grandfather’s clock.

Her treatment of Major was completely different. Major was, for all intensive purposes, her foster parent. After all, he had pretty much single-handedly raised her from a baby, was her nursemaid, champion and protector. These two had, what I can only describe as, a canine/owl bond.

Even though Kirby was imprinted to us (and perhaps our Collie) and could not be released to the wild she brought her wild instincts with her and completely enriched all of our lives. Just observing her grow from a helpless little chick to a self-sufficient adult was, in itself, completely awesome.

One of my favorite things was watching her little face change from, what might be best describes as, a combination of a vulture and lamb to the beautiful recognizable heart-shaped face of a barn owl.  As the tiny feathers around her face emerged they actually picked up the skin around her ears and face forming what is called a facial disk. This facial disk acts like a little satellite dish providing a barn owl with its greatest sense, hearing.  In scientific studies barn owls were able to catch and kill their prey in total darkness using just their hearing alone.

But, to me, the most beautiful things were these tiny gold feathers, each with its only teensy black dot in the center, so small that I was never able to find one that had fallen out.

At about three years old, Kirby began to lay eggs which didn’t hatch, of course, since she was without a mate. But, she would sit on them (up to 7 eggs laid in approximate two day intervals) anyway until either their expected hatching time ran out or she simply threw up her talons in boredom. I always knew when she was in the nesting mode though, because she would fly about the house in exploration of any and every crevice or hole she could find, even vertically stored paper towel rolls were fully inspected as potential nest sites.

One summer after she had, once again, unsuccessfully hatched her eggs and given up on motherhood, a brood of five orphaned baby barn owls (one with an injured, but not broken, leg) arrived.  Since we had other raptors at the Center, including; red-tailed hawks, screech owls, great horned owls and barred owls, which made great foster parents we decided to see if Kirby might do it as well. It is always the best thing for young wildlife to be raised by their own kind, not humans, if they are to have any chance at wild survival and our hope was to return these little owlets to the wild.

We put the little owlets in a cage overnight in Kirby’s room to allow her to ‘get used’ to them. But we really didn’t know if she would allow such an intrusion in her territory and worse yet, might see them as simply food! In the morning, to my horror, I found that Kirby had broken to their cage and at first glance no little owls could be seen. My heart sank. But, it was immediately lifted when I picked her up. Underneath were five warm but hungry little babes and in my hands, an impatient mother owl with that “Got mice?” look on her face.  Not only did she keep them warm and feed them but she nursed the little injured one back to health. She would actually prop him up under her wing so he could stand like the others.

Kirby proved to be an exemplary nurturing and devoted foster mom. She may have been raised by humans but all of her mothering instincts were completely intact. And still are. All of Kirby’s ‘kids’ have been able to be released to the wild from whence they came. And each year she awaits the arrival of more babies even though, she still lays her own eggs.

When Kirby isn’t on maternity leave, she is ‘employed’ as a teacher at the Hudson Valley Raptor Center.  Each year she visits schools and groups from New York, New Jersey, Connecticut and Massachusetts. Maybe, one day, you and your family will have the chance to meet her. I can guarantee you will, like us, fall in love!