A night in September subtitled owl banding and Haiku at the Hilliardton Marsh

Title: A Night in September by Bronwyn Robinson

Bronwyn Blog author on right  volunteer Mo Fahmy scribing  for Bronwyn as she bands a saw whet

The trees are one shadow cutting jagged edges into the sky. With the chill comes frosted breath and the glitter of constellations long forgotten in the city. The stars watch us pass beneath them, unblinking. They vanish with the blinding flash of a headlamp. Artificial light shines on motes of dust and mist as though the forest is actually the bottom of an ocean. Underfoot, peat moss forms a spongy bed that sucks at boot heels.

Sarah with a saw whet

Something else is wandering between the spindly spruce trees; whatever it is stops as we stop, moves as we move. I can feel its eyes on me, but when I turn there is nothing but the empty path and the bent limbs of trees stretched towards me. There’s nothing there, I think, even though I know that isn’t true. There’s a lot there. My heart beats steady, somehow untouched by the paranoia creeping in on the periphery of my imagination.

Nick with the only long eared we have banded this fall

We reach the nets and I stop thinking of every bad end when I see the first owl.

Owl banding has begun here at Hilliardton! Our first night, twelve Northern Saw-Whets plunked themselves into our nets and gave us reason to dust off the UV lamps that light their feathers up like twilight. On the second attempt, we snagged a Long-Eared owl with an impressive glower. As the temperature drops, the owls will be many and quick to move through—unfortunate for finger dexterity and exposed noses, but great for capture. Not all of us can be eighty percent poof (looking at you, Saw-Whets). We’re all looking forward to seeing what kind of diversity we’ll find in our nets later in the season. You can come out and join us on Wednesdays for our public owl banding night. The gate opens at 8 PM when all nets have been set.

Bronwym showing how we age owls with the black light. Under the black light young feathers show up as red while older fellow appear white. The pattern of young and old feathers allow us to age an owl in this case we refer to this as a second year owl

To wrap up, I present to you my first ever haiku:

this fair winged whisper

linger, bright eyes in starlight

illuminated

Alternatively:

owls, hooty-hoo-hoo

did you know that nick likes owls

it is cold outside

Mo about to put this owl in a holding box to let its eyes to readjust to the dark before release