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April 18, 1985 - Not Just Another WalkSecond Section/ The Suffolk Times Not Just Another Walk By PAUL STOUTENBURGH I receive many telephone calls about the world we live in, and as the spring season approaches, the calls increase. One particularly interesting call last week concerned a woman in East Mar- ion who took her dog for its morning walk and saw something unusual. Like so many of us who sneak out to special places to enjoy their charm and beauty, this particular person had a walk through nearby woods surrounded by mountain laurel and leading to a small bluff overlookirig the water. On her last walk through, a huge bird flew from the nearby trees scaring her half to death. When she collected her- self she looked around and saw a large bundle of fluff the size of a rabbit on the ground, apparently the young of the large bird. Like all parents, the big birds were concerned about the dog the young lady had with her and were swooping too close for comfort in re- sponse to their natural instinct to pro- tect their offspring. Our heroine was wise enough to rec- ognize the situation. Restraining the dog from seeing the fluffy young on the ground, she immediately headed home where a call was placed to our house. Barbara, always on the ball, took the message and immediately became ex- cited. Since I was at a meeting, she talked to our son Peter, who im- mediately put the pieces together and proclaimed that the only big bird hav- ing young so early would have to be the great horned owl. Stranger to Most Few people ever get a chance to see this magnificent "tiger" of the woods for it is seldom seen during daylight hours. On occasion you might see one when a group of crows gang up on it Focus on Nature and harass it. Owls of any size or shape are the enemy of all birds, especially crows. Look the next time you see or hear a group of crows making a distur- bance in the nearby woods, and in all probability you'll find them harassing an owl or even a hawk. I'm afraid that meetings are taking more and more of my time, so a pink note was passed to me by a secretary. It said: "Call Barbara as soon as possi- ble. No emergency." 1 excused myself for a quick call home and got the story. My son had an appointment that was rescheduled; my meeting would be over in about a half -hour. He could pick me up on the way and we'd be off to check on the owl. The meeting ran past the half -hour, and by 5:30, I slipped out and was off to East Marion. We met the woman, who had been alerted we were on our way, and we were soon walking her fa- vorite path toward the owl's location. Sure enough, when we got there the fuzzy ball still was sitting on the ground; off to one side was another. They truly were great horned owls! In the shadows of the setting sun we'd get glimpses of the parent birds flying about. They were huge and when one lit we could see it standing almost two feet tall. Once in a while from off in a distance we'd hear a concerned "hoo hoo -oo hoo" from one of the parents. Now that we were there, what were we to do? The owls didn't even have their primary flight feathers yet. We theorized that because of the fierce wind Page 1A April 18,1985 Photo by Paul Stoutenburgh GREAT HORNED OWL -- Although present in limited numbers, the great horned owl is rarely seen. It Ls called the tiger of the woods, for mice, rats, rabbits and even birds are fair game for this silent night hunter. the day before, the young had been blown out of their nest. We looked for the nest and found it atop a spindly pine. Now we knew why they were blown out. It was so slender we wouldn't be able to get back up to it. Even if we did, what was to say they wouldn't be blown out again? Basket House in the Pines Always ingenious, Peter came up with the idea of using a basket for a nest, so back to our heroine's house for Over There It was made early in the 1900s and designed for warfare. But most of its time has been spent killing time, forgotten behind a Greenport Village storage shed. And then it was eyed by Bill Gasser, who arranged to give the antique cannon with the wooden wheels a place of honor in his tank museum in Mattituck, called the American Armored Foundation, Inc. On Saturday, Mr. Gasser and his volunteers hoisted the cannon onto the back of flatbed truck and hauled it to its new home, where it reigns as the oldest attraction. Greenport Mayor George Hubbard has signed a lease agreement with Mr. Gasser, who will return the cannon if the village ever wants it back. Photo by Judy Ahrens basket, rope, etc., we went. They were brought to the scene, which now was becoming dimmer and dimmer as the sun disappeared in the west. In the meantime, a friend of Peter's came to help. The two climbed a big pine with rope dangling from their belts while I prepared a makeshift nest in the half - bushel basket we had brought. Even at their young stage, the baby owls looked ferocious, bills chattered and wings spread out to make them look even more fearsome. When I finished building the nest, I picked them up with gloved hands, which they immediately struck at. I was glad for the protection of the heavy leather brought along especially for that reason. We knew from past experi- ence and reading that the adults could really do bodily damage, especially if you were molesting their young. This is why Peter and his friend had donned heavy jackets and construction hel- mets. The owls were young enough to tell us that the adults must have started incubating in the middle of February. Records show that almost any time from January on, these birds start incubat- ing. I can remember seeing a photo of a great horned owl on its nest com- pletely covered with snow. Our birds still had a long way to go before they, would fly, probably another five or six weeks, and if left on the ground it would only be a matter of time before a rac- coon, a dog, or perhaps starvation would get them. Once ready in their new basket -nest they were hoisted to the top of the pine tree where the basket was secured and the birds left, hopefully to be cared for by their parents. It was getting dark when we headed home and we all won- dered what was going on in the top of the pine tree we had just left. The good part of the story is that, three days later, Barbara and I went and looked from across the water through binoculars at the nest. An adult bird standing on the rim of the basket could just barely be seen through the evergreen covering. We looked at each other and smiled. We felt good about our efforts.