Doug Leier posted on February 18, 2008 09:49 :: 3170 Views
Growing up in several rural communities across the state, being an urbanite isn't exactly what I imagined for myself. But like more North Dakotans than ever, I too live within a city.
For the most part, it's not a bad situation to have quick access to many necessities, such as a clinic nearby for all the growing pains of raising a young family.
The drawbacks for hunters and anglers living on the inside of the city limits are obvious, but living in town doesn't mean we don't get to experience some of the same outdoor education experiences to which rural kids grow accustomed.
A few weeks back on a Sunday afternoon, while eating lunch my kids noticed a great-horned owl on the power line behind our house. My oldest son Joe knew exactly what it was, because we were lucky enough to see a couple while pheasant hunting this past fall.
I knew something wasn't quite right because these avian predators don’t usually perch out in the open in broad daylight. But it stayed long enough for the kids to lose interest, and upon checking back, they noticed it was gone – or so we thought.
A couple of days later, our neighbor stopped by and said she had taken pictures of the same owl a couple doors down. Within minutes of that conversation, the owl was in our back yard, perching on the chain link fence.
The reason for this peculiar behavior – a disjointed wing – then became more apparent. It struggled with a few flaps of its wings and pushes from its feet, from fence, to swing set and then onto the top of a garage. The owl struggled mightily just to move a few branches up, and the wing wasn't much help.
The owl was obviously in pretty bad shape, and judging from the days before, I didn’t think it could live more than a few days without being able to secure food.
The next morning Gus – the name given the owl by my children – was in the front yard tree. How he managed to get there was beyond me. After about six hours in the tree, I thought it might be time to euthanize the owl, realizing it was probably hungry and suffering from its limited mobility.
On the other hand, I understood that Gus would still have a chance to survive if left alone. So that’s what we did.
The day came and went and the following morning the bird was no longer in the tree. At mid-afternoon we saw a neighbor a few houses away gazing up into a tree from the sidewalk, and sure enough, Gus was there. Once again Gus had defied the odds and made it across the street and a few houses away.
I figured Gus was either healing or getting even closer to death, but either way I felt vindicated for my decision to leave the bird’s fate up to nature, which is almost always the best course of action.
The days for my kids began to revolve around the owl as we took the sled through the neighborhood in search of Gus. Another day and Gus was across another street, again perched in a tree.
After a week or so I was pretty sure this little charade would soon end. And on this I was correct, as the following day Gus was nowhere to be found. We figured the worst, but hoped for the best for Gus.
We got the final chapter after a visit to a neighbor. Gus had found his way to their back yard and a couple of visiting friends were able to watch as Gus finally decided, after a week in our neighborhood, that he was ready to fly back into the wild.
The whole episode left many lessons for dad and kids. Animals, like humans, become sick and injured. When this happens, the best advice is to let nature run its course. Not every story will have a happy ending, but there's no doubt Gus now enjoys living in the wild much more than the alternative of being removed from the wild.
Doug Leier is a biologist for the Game and Fish Depatment. He can be reached by email: dleier@nd.gov
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