About six years ago we nailed an owl box in the birch tree in our front yard. We've watched and waited and been seasonally disappointed. We've only hosted the starlings and house sparrows that duke it out and take turns raising their broods in the box.
Two days ago I noticed some debris under the birch tree. This morning there was a new pile of garbage that I could see from my kitchen window.
When I took my plant starts out of the garage to greet the sun shining down on this morning, I determined to also clean up whatever that mess was.
As I surveyed the material, I recognized that something had cleaned out the owl box. I looked up to see this face peering back at me. A Western Screech Owl!
The grandchildren run and play in the yard, so I'm hoping this little owl has determination and stays with us.
I am a grandmother, a wife, a mother, a sister, and a friend.
I know that a woman who will tell her age or her weight will tell anything. I won't tell mine, so you can trust me. I have a cat. I have a duster that I don't use.
The photo header is one I have taken of Gram's antique writing desk. My dust.