"Hunting with the Owl"
by Ken Baer
I had been hearing him all summer and into the fall, but I never thought he would let me hunt with him. I had found the tree a few years earlier and it is still a good stand. I use a climber tree stand to get up it. From my perch I have seen several deer moving through the forest but no shooters yet; it is just a matter of time. This particular evening I was able to get into the stand early, well before dark. I climbed up and settled in for the wait. The evening started to cool as the sun started to disappear and the brightness started to fade. We hunters call it the golden hour. It is the time when the animals start to move and if you are lucky enough to be in the right spot you might get a shot. I was not the only one who knew of this spot or the time to hunt it.
As owls do, he flew in silently and landed on a fallen limb stuck in the trees, just ten feet away from my post. He looked straight at me as to say, “What are you doing here?” I thought I would have spooked him and he would fly away but he didn’t. He just came to terms with sharing his hunting grounds and stared into the forest the same way I did.
He was a Barred owl; he was brown with white and the big circle mask around his eyes. He was so close I could make out all the fine details of his feathers and see him blink at times. I would flinch or scratch my nose and he would spin his head to see what I was doing. He never got nervous; he just scrutinized the opening in the forest in front of us. He was a smart, patient hunter who knew where he could find a meal. It gave me confidence to know that a creature that endures in the wilderness hunts in the same spot as I. I hunt for the pleasure I get participating in the natural world. He hunts to survive.
He sat on his perch with more patience and diligence than I will ever have. He would turn his head slightly to spot something moving in the underbrush or bob his head to get a better view of the area. I watched intently as that hunter went about his business, unnerved by my presence.
This went on until I could no longer see into the darkening forest and I had to climb down. He glared at me as I walked the stand down the tree, disturbing his hunting area. When I reached the ground, he decided it was also time to move. I watched as he silently flew and disappeared into the dark forest to find another perch to hunt from. I still hear his call when I walk the woods around my house. I anxiously await the next time I get to hunt with the Owl.
by Ken Baer
I had been hearing him all summer and into the fall, but I never thought he would let me hunt with him. I had found the tree a few years earlier and it is still a good stand. I use a climber tree stand to get up it. From my perch I have seen several deer moving through the forest but no shooters yet; it is just a matter of time. This particular evening I was able to get into the stand early, well before dark. I climbed up and settled in for the wait. The evening started to cool as the sun started to disappear and the brightness started to fade. We hunters call it the golden hour. It is the time when the animals start to move and if you are lucky enough to be in the right spot you might get a shot. I was not the only one who knew of this spot or the time to hunt it.
As owls do, he flew in silently and landed on a fallen limb stuck in the trees, just ten feet away from my post. He looked straight at me as to say, “What are you doing here?” I thought I would have spooked him and he would fly away but he didn’t. He just came to terms with sharing his hunting grounds and stared into the forest the same way I did.
He was a Barred owl; he was brown with white and the big circle mask around his eyes. He was so close I could make out all the fine details of his feathers and see him blink at times. I would flinch or scratch my nose and he would spin his head to see what I was doing. He never got nervous; he just scrutinized the opening in the forest in front of us. He was a smart, patient hunter who knew where he could find a meal. It gave me confidence to know that a creature that endures in the wilderness hunts in the same spot as I. I hunt for the pleasure I get participating in the natural world. He hunts to survive.
He sat on his perch with more patience and diligence than I will ever have. He would turn his head slightly to spot something moving in the underbrush or bob his head to get a better view of the area. I watched intently as that hunter went about his business, unnerved by my presence.
This went on until I could no longer see into the darkening forest and I had to climb down. He glared at me as I walked the stand down the tree, disturbing his hunting area. When I reached the ground, he decided it was also time to move. I watched as he silently flew and disappeared into the dark forest to find another perch to hunt from. I still hear his call when I walk the woods around my house. I anxiously await the next time I get to hunt with the Owl.