06/23/2022
Earlier this spring, a walker in the Back 40 found two fallen owlets under a nest behind Oliver Hall. They immediately contacted Kettle River Raptor Center and Tina Penny, one of the Center’s volunteers, came out to campus to rescue the birds. Unfortunately, one owlet had already died from exposure. This was in late March and the overnight lows were still in the 20s. The other chick needed to be returned to the shelter of its nest immediately. But the nest was over 30 feet up in a ponderosa pine, far too high for Tina to reach it from her ladder. That’s when she reached out to the us in the Grounds Department about the use of an aerial lift. Navigating the lift across the uneven forest floor was a little tricky but it proved feasible. Once we got up to the original nest Tina could see right away that it was too small—it already housed a third healthy owlet as well as two rodent carcasses. Rabbit for breakfast and squirrel for dinner. The unsuitability of the nest had been her suspicion from the beginning (unlike other raptors, Tina informed us, great horned owls don’t build their nests; they scavenge nests from other animals, sometimes leading to precarious living situations) so she’d come prepared with a backup. A milk crate lined with Douglas fir branches and secured to the trunk with a webbing strap was now this kiddo’s home. Tina had the owlet stashed in a reusable grocery bag for the ride up. Once the crate was installed just below the original nest she carefully placed the chick inside and we began our descent.
Participating in the rescue of the owlet was an unforgettable experience, but it was just as memorable to observe the fledglings over the following months. They grew out of their downy fluff and into their juvenile plumage. They perched on the edges of their respective nests like siblings in bunk beds, staring out from beady eyes in puff ball faces. When you got within 20 yards their parents, roosting just above them or in a tree nearby, would fly north into the woods. As they matured they ventured further from their roost and you’d find them higher in the tree or further out on a branch.
Experiences like this remind us that this land, land that belonged to the Spokane Nation before J. P. Graves “acquired” it and donated it to Whitworth, land we now find ourselves the keepers of, was once a wild place. Wild creatures still depend on it. Fewer and fewer areas in our region provide the kind of tree cover and prey habitat necessary for an apex predator like the great horned owl. Fewer and fewer forested areas are protected from development and logging. As the inheritors and caretakers of stolen land, land still inhabited by owls and coyotes and chipmunks, by lupine and balsamroot and serviceberry, what is our responsibility? Who are we accountable to?
