West Magazine

The Prairies’ Elusive Burrowing Owl

By Mike Sturk

The sun was setting and I was about to pull the plug on my search when all of a sudden an odd shape out on the prairie caught my eye.

Could it be? Yes! Finally, a burrowing owl.

It quickly took flight and disappeared but I soon spotted another one, an adult, standing beside the mound of a gopher* burrow. Two young owls disappeared into the hole as I pulled to the side of the road.

The owls were on private, fenced land which meant I couldn’t get any closer. So I added a 2X converter to my 500 mm lens, focused and was absolutely gobsmacked by the sight of eight fuzzy heads and 16 yellow eyes peering at me from the burrow. Some of the heads contorted sideways and nearly upside-down to get a better look at the one-eyed monster I’d become as I peered at them through the big lens.

I’ve long been interested in – okay, obsessed by – owls.

I’m not sure why but they captured my imagination. So far, I have photographed 10 owl species (nine of which are found in Alberta and one in British Columbia) but the burrowing owl had always eluded me. There are only an estimated 1,000 of them – a few Internet sites say 1,000 pairs – most in Saskatchewan and Alberta but there are some reported in Manitoba and British Columbia.

They’re not very big. Environment Canada describes them as larger than a robin but smaller than a pigeon. They breed from April to September then take off for Texas or Mexico for the winter months. Apparently, only burrowing owls from Canada and the northern US migrate. Burrowing owls were added to the Endangered Species list in 1995. The reasons listed are loss of habitat, pesticides used to control grasshoppers and other pests, predation (including by dogs and cats) and getting run over on roads.

It takes patience to find them.

Determined to photograph this rare bird, last July (2009) I headed out to the burrowing owl country of southeastern Alberta. I made several return trips over a few weeks to the same area northeast of Brooks. I’d leave early in the morning for the three-hour drive and head back to my then-home in Calgary after the last sliver of evening light, sometimes arriving home after midnight. Then I’d do it all over again the following day.

And now, suddenly, here I was looking at more burrowing owls than I had ever hoped to see. Even a blind squirrel finds the occasional nut, I suppose.

While I continued to photograph, a second adult appeared on a fence post nearby, making the tally 10 at this locale. The adult began hunting and bringing insects – dragonflies,

bumblebees, big black bugs and grasshoppers – back to the nest where the hungry owlets waited.

They quickly became accustomed to my presence and left the nest to meet the adult flying towards them with their food. It was comical watching them run on their longish legs. In one photo, all eight of them are stooped over with their wings crossed behind their backs, looking for all the world like businessmen pacing back and forth outside a boardroom. (A friend says they look more like his fellow Rotarians waiting for the bar to open.)

I came back the next day and the owlets were lined up at their burrow again and the adults were busy hunting and feeding them. At one point, one of the adults begin to chirp sharply while nodding its head and bowing. I learned this was a warning signal for the young owls to disappear into the burrow. I thought perhaps it was my presence causing the distress and considered leaving, when I noticed the owl looking up.

I looked up, too, and sure enough, a prairie falcon was circling. This was common owl behaviour whenever a falcon, ferruginous hawk or Swainson’s hawk flew into the area. When the predator disappeared, everything returned to normal. The adult would fly in with an insect in its talon and give it to one of the eight young rushing out to meet it. I wondered if only the fastest ones got fed.

After a couple of weeks, there were still eight young owls, going out farther each time – flying now – to meet the adult. Twice from a great distance, I saw an adult carrying a snake, likely a plains or red-sided garter, and managed to get one image as the snake was being eaten.

I always remained in the vehicle that acted as a blind. They were quite taken with my lens, and if they were scared, they didn’t show it. I think they began to recognize my little green car because after the first few days they didn’t bother going into the burrows on my arrival.

Lucky for me and the owls, the road wasn’t used much, but one day a rancher pulled up to chat. I’d noticed him before. The few people who lived on that road were well aware of the owls and were understandably protective of them. Through Operation Burrowing Owl in Saskatchewan and Operation Grassland Community in Alberta, 700 ranchers have donated 70,000 hectares (173,000 acres) for the burrowing owl habitat since 1987. This is critical since loss of habitat is the main threat to the little owls’ survival.

This particular rancher was worried I’d tell other people and the quiet road would become a bit of a zoo. He had seen it all before. Word spreads fast when a rare species is involved. I kept quiet about it. While ranchers are good to the owls, it’s reciprocal. One family of owls can eat 1,500 mice and 10,000 grasshoppers so it’s no wonder ranchers and farmers like them.

I knew the owls lived in abandoned gopher burrows and badger dens, but I was still surprised to see fearless gophers regularly running around near them. I thought maybe the adult owls might try to make a meal of one but if it ever happened, it didn’t while I was there.

I always worried about badgers showing up because I had seen one a couple of kilometers up the road. Badgers will wipe out a nest, given the opportunity. Down in the burrows, the owls can hiss and rattle like a snake, a good bluff to ward off predators. It’s a paradox of nature that the badger will kill the owls yet the owls depend on the badger for its digging ability. If ground squirrel and badger populations diminish, so do nesting sites for the owls.

After a few weeks, the young were flying more, off in a field hunting but always close to their burrows in case of danger. I got busy making a living and it was a few weeks before I could return. There was no sign of the owls so they must have grown up. Hopefully all will survive to return and start families of their own.