It seems I’m still struggling to keep up with the blog, even though our summer schedule has officially ended. I apologize. This week is still pretty crazy so rather than make everyone continue sitting on the edge of their seat, drenched with sweat from anticipation for the next blog… No? Not so much? Yeah, I know. Anyway, here’s another installment from Brandon’s adventures with the birds of the Greater Yellowstone Raptor Experience. He may have left us, but we can still use him, or at least his stories :).
On one of the occasions in the spring when we are still doing indoor programs in the downstairs portion of the Draper Natural History Museum, I got to hold Teasdale. In order to bring the birds inside from the Mews to our program area, we have to walk through the museum and often through large crowds. By holding Teasdale (an owl that moves very little from his perch) I served as his tree. Great Horned Owls are camouflaged to blend in with the trees that they are perched in. If they are concerned or nervous about something that poses a threat to them, they sometimes lean in towards the trunk.
As we walked through the museum to do our program, Teasdale must have felt unsecure of the crowds because as we walked, he began to grip tighter and lean in towards my body. I felt touched that he felt safer with me than with other people. That is, until he got hot enough to start panting. When the birds get warm, they can’t sweat. As a result of this, the only way for them to cool down is to pant just like a dog.
Feeling insecure, Teasdale had settled himself fairly close to me on my arm. This brought him near my face, which is pretty intimidating! Unfortunately for me, the instant I turned to look at him, he started panting- right in my face. Now very few people know this, but owl breath is one of the foulest things in the universe. The closest that I can come to describing it is to have you imagine the breath of someone that eats rats and mice all the time. Then add that sour edge of a dill pickle scent to it. (Don’t get me wrong! I like dill pickles, but they do have an edge to their scent.) The combination of the close proximity of Teasdale’s face to mine and the awful smell nearly knocked me off my feet. Fortunately for him, I withstood his wheezing onslaught and finished the program.
