Inspiration can come from the strangest places.
- Regular readers are already familiar with some of this story but I felt I needed to tell part of it again to provide background for the photo which is new to my blog.
My cousin Ken Dudley, whose generous gift eventually allowed me to buy my first high quality birding lens, tragically passed away in January of 2007. I used to visit Ken on the family farm in Montana at least once each summer (we were very close, like brothers) and on those visits I became enamored by the resident Great Horned Owls living in all the old granaries. I tried to photograph the adult owls as best I could with the inadequate lens I had at the time and even though my results were poor I became absolutely enchanted by those owls. But because for many years I was still teaching I couldn’t get up there until late June at the earliest so I always missed seeing the chicks until they were much older.
Four months after Ken passed away I made a trip to the farm in late May (by then I was retired so I could go whenever I wanted to). I made it up there to see him during Christmas vacation when he was very ill but I couldn’t make it to his funeral because of classroom related responsibilities. This trip in May was my belated attempt to find closure. I stayed in the huge farmhouse but other than me it was empty and lonely and very sad. I was a bit of a mess.
But after a few days of wandering around the farm Ken’s older brother Jim showed up from out of town and showed me where that year’s Great Horned Owl chicks were. Those youngsters changed my entire attitude from despair to one of hope and moving forward.
But damn were they ever in an ugly place, the bottom of a very old and abandoned granary that had been used to store junk for decades. I presume they were hatched higher up among the rafters and were in their early “branching” stage so they had recently worked their way down to the floor. They were very clingy with each other but they were curious and unafraid. Their food staple was the omnipresent “gophers” that their parents delivered to them each night. The dark spot on the wood in front of the chick on the left is gopher blood.
Even at this very early stage of my bird photography “career” I knew to give the chicks plenty of space and spend very little time near that granary but just knowing they were there changed my focus and my attitude. I began to spend much more time trying to photograph other birds on the farm with my inadequate lens and less time moping and grieving. I began to give serious thought to someday being able to afford my dream lens, the Canon 500 f/4, so I could take my bird photography to new heights.
And then a few weeks after I arrived back home in Utah I received an unexpected check in the mail from Ken’s estate. I strongly believe that Ken’s intention was for me to finally be able to afford the lens that I’d been talking about for so long. So a few weeks after receiving Ken’s gift I purchased the lens and I was off to the races.
So that’s why I have a giant soft spot for these young owls, trashy setting or not.
Ron
Great shot and even better story. š
Thank you, Marty.
Such a special photo – your very touching story behind these bright-eyed little cuties brought tears to my eyes…I’ve enjoyed your postings for awhile now, but felt compelled to comment on this particularly heartfelt one! Thank you for sharing!
Thank you for taking the time to comment, Frances.
Serendipity at its very best.
Those owls made even a trashy area beautiful, and I love that they eased your pain. I am also very grateful that the owls and Ken made your current trajectory/obsession possible. Huge thanks to them both.
Thanks very much, EC.
Love it all…photo, story, memories brought back…Thank you…
I appreciate that, Patty. Thank you.
I really like your story, Ron. One more example of why I like to read your “birding” blog.
Ed
Good. Thank you, Ed.
I always enjoy the story of your cousin Ken. I have forgotten does a family member still own the farm? Is it still a working farm?
Owls are wonderful birds sadly I mostly see them in a rehab setting. Native Americans see them as a harbinger of death, I see them as a wonder of life.
April, Yes, most of the farm is still in the family. Ken’s three surviving siblings own most of it. They farm some of it and lease out the rest.
By far, the “best” photographs are those with memories attached.
Yes, that’s often true, Wally.
Coincidentally, I just photographed a pair of great horned owl juveniles on Tuesday. These birds attract fans everywhere. I think it’s the fluff and the frontal eyes, and the way they watch you watching them. While I was watching the pair in the cedar tree, two older women approached. One said “Oh, I’m so glad they’re back, they were gone for several weeks, their favorite branch broke off.” Sure enough, a good-sized limb had broken off the cedar. Clearly, these juveniles have been known neighbors at Kehoe Beach for the whole season. When I returned from my trek to the ocean a couple of hours later, the cedar was surrounded by children, adults, and a ranger, all looking at the owlets, who were looking back at the humanlets and humans. . .we have created strange new relationships among some H.sapiens and some other species.
I’m glad so many people appreciate them, Martha. I just hope they don’t love them to death, like so often happens.
You cousin Ken helped enable you to pursue one of the best āretirementsā I know of and through which we have all been enriched.
Opening up your post today gave me a thrill of coincidence because I woke last night to the hoot of a Great Horned Owl male and the responsive call of a female.
Good point about my retirement, Lyle. Without his gift I’d probably still be building furniture for a hobby and missing more than one finger thanks to my table saw…
What wonderful memories. Ken was really a special cousin (I like his name too). Those owlets look so bright!
Thank you, Ken. Yup, special he surely was.
LOVE the GHO’s as you know……. š š Also the reminder of the wonderful/sad story that led you to a GREAT lens and on to entertaining and educating us on a daily basis. Thanks Ken who through your untimely death had a HUGE part in all this……. š For whatever reason our GHO’s have chosen to nest elsewhere the past 2 years even tho they “check out” the accommodations here – I do miss the wonder of the chicks metamorphosing from fuzz balls to clumsy teenagers to full fledged GHO’s…… š Thx for sharing the photo and story again Ron.
Judy, every year I’m fearful that the owls will leave the farm but they’ve been there for over 20 years now without missing a beat. My cousin Jim says they’re still there and raised a family again this year. I’ve just gotta make it up there again soon.
You DO! None of you are getting any younger…… š
In my case at least that’s for damned sure!
A great moving family story Ron. Whenever I hear something like this I hope that the recipient will “pay it forward” and you have through your photos and this wonderfully inspiring blog. What a great way to honor your cousin Ken !!!
Thanks, Gary. That means a lot.
Great story, Ron, even though I’d heard some of it before. Your cousin was a generously thoughtful man.
The owls are adorable. I’m glad your camera captured them, even if it’s not your most artistic photo.
Ken was quite the guy, Nancy. I could tell you stories that would amuse you, endear him to you, make you laugh hysterically or curl your hair. He was a real character – one of a kind.
I think that your huge and highly accomplished body of work is a wonderful tribute to the power that love can ignite—that love between you and Ken, and that which you clearly feel for the natural
world. Also, I like that your appreciation and interest isn’t limited to that which is pretty, sleek, and clean…….!
Thanks for the kind words, Kris. Yup, ugly can have its charm…
A beautiful and moving story Ron. The departure of a much loved cousin, the family farm, the owl chicks, a gift of a much needed lens, and the rest is history. And thanks to Ken we get to see these great feathered photos every day. And as ugly and depressing as the GHO chicks place looks to us, I would bet they were just fine with it as long as the parents kept bring those gophers.
Thanks, Everett. I think the owls were just fine with that ugly old place so I was too. I just kept worrying about that nail sticking up out of the wood so menacingly…
Iām grateful to Ken.
š
It was meant to be…providence so to say. Those are about the cutest little ones ever! A precious photo, all warm and fuzzy. ā¤ļø
“It was meant to be”
I like to think so. Thanks, Kathy.
What a moving story, Ron. Thanks so much for sharing it, and that wonderful photo, too!
Thanks very much, Alison.