A few minutes ago the doorbell rang. It was Lyson one of our gardeners. He had this to give to the boys.
In case you can't tell that is a very pissed off baby owl. If you get too close he hisses, growls, and clacks his beak. He hasn't said whooo even once.
I quizzed Lyson to make sure he hadn't raided a nest. He hadn't, Mr. Crow had though. We have a mated pair of pied crows living in a tall tree in our yard. I rather like them, they are great fun to watch and handsome birds to boot. I never realized until we moved here that crows were hunters. I just thought they raided farmers crops. The roof of our house is littered with small bones from their prey. Every once in awhile they will drop something before they get a chance to eat. That's what happened to this little owlet. Somehow the crow ended up dropping him instead of eating him. Closer although very cautious inspection reveals that he probably has a broken leg and who knows what other injuries. We will take him to the wildlife center when David gets home and turn him over to the experts give him a chance of survival.