A few years ago, two Great-Horned Owls decided to raise a family outside of my workplace. (I named the babies Jericho and Methuselah.) Everyone was excited about it--we all would go on our breaks and look for them. We watched them mature. I got to see them fly! They looked like giant cats sitting on tree limbs, from a distance. And for a while, I was an expert on all things Great-horned owl; I knew their eating habits, mating habits, habitat habits, gestation period, particular menu favorites, speed of flight. I don't remember much of it anymore, but I totally did know, once! I'm not really a bird person. In fact, I find that I have an incredible fondness for the underdog--the poor earthworms that robins peck at throughout the year. Poor things. Robins can be vicious. But owls--at least, the Great Horned variety--are different. Sure, they eat small mammals, but they, at least the four I got to know and love, have one thing over other birds (specifically robins): They actually like me. I know it. I'm not sure this owl in the photo does, though.
