Black and white

Most things in life aren't really black and white -- except when they are, like this Black-and-white Owl, which we spotted today in the middle of a bustling town. These owls have been there for years, putting up with car horns and barking dogs and the talking, laughing, shouting people who share their square-block park. It amazes me how many people immediately start looking up as soon as they see a group of birding tourists approaching with binoculars and telescopes; they want to be the one to point the owls out to us. It's equally amazing to me how many people have never noticed the owls until they see us looking at them. How sad to be so unobservant of the world around you!

Who, me?

We spent this evening wandering in the rainforest at La Selva Biological Station, looking at owls and frogs and nocturnal mammals and anything else we could find. This little Vermiculated Screech-Owl was one of the highlights. After traipsing along concrete paths through the darkened forest for more than an hour without hearing a peep from any owl, we suddenly heard one call right from a dense tangle just beside us off the path. Putting our flashlights out, we stood in silence with the bright beams of a nearly full moon raining light down between the leaves. Our local guide whistled softly. A hiss of indrawn breath from our driver Lenin, who stood beside me, alerted me he'd seen something go past. I flicked on my light and he guided the beam toward a branch almost within touching distance. Magical! That little owl sat on its branch, head swiveling between us and the surrounding forest for more than 10 minutes. We finally walked away from it, leaving it to its nighttime kingdom.

A wide-eyed Vermiculated Screech-Owl checks out the birders.

Snow(y) Day

The Cape May beaches in January stretch for mile after empty mile, with nary a beach umbrella or towel or beach chair in sight. For much of the day, we had the strand to ourselves, though a few truly crazy surfers bobbed offshore, clad head to toe in thick neoprene wetsuits.

I read a quote once (which I can't find now, of course) about surf rushing to shore like galloping horses, and that's certainly what the lines of swells reminded me of today, particularly where the wind caught the tops of them. With a bit of imagination, you could almost see heads nodding and manes streaming.

Of course, the day's prime targets were birds. "New" birds. Birds we hadn't seen yet this year. And I, at least, wasn't disappointed. On the stone jetties edging the entrance to Cape May Harbor, busy gangs of Purple Sandpipers and Ruddy Turnstones gleaned among exposed mussel beds. Just offshore, hundreds and hundreds of sea ducks swam and preened and snoozed and courted. But the real gem of the day -- and the reason for the title of this blog post -- was the gorgeous Snowy Owl we found guarding his prey (an unfortunate Black Duck) among the dunes. What a fine finish to the weekend!

Purple Sandpiper

A male Black Scoter does his very best to impress a passing female.

A Long-tailed Duck catches its breath between dives.

One of our long-staying Snowy Owls, after a successful hunt.