Last evening, as I prepared to leave our Littleton, Colorado, farm, I went outside to complete a few chores. The sun had already dropped behind the Front Range but there was still enough daylight to get the work done.
Fifteen minutes later, I was distracted by a group of blue jays, shrieking from large shade trees at the back of our property. Having seen a sharp-shinned hawk on the farm earlier in the day, I assumed that it was paying another visit; if not, they were surely reacting to one of the red fox that regularly hunt on our pastures. When their raucous scolding did not abate, I walked back to see what was causing their alarm; to my surprise, an adult great horned owl had decided to perch on a large pile of wood chips near the end of our driveway. Oblivious to their cries, he waddled across the mulch pile, trying out various sites before settling down to peruse the surrounding "lawn" and shrubs; clearly, he has used that mound as a hunting perch on other evenings.
Before giving up, several of the jays strafed the owl, looking like sparrows when compared to the bulky frame of the raptor. Indeed, the scene evoked the image of King Kong, fending off attack planes atop the Empire State Building; in this case the potential victim was unfazed, merely ducking his head when the jays approached. Eventually, the protesters tired of their efforts and flew off while the owl, king of this mulch pile, lounged on his throne until darkness enveloped our farm.
