I saw the prairie take flight. A tawny streak rose up with legs dangling, caught the wind, and became grace in motion. Piercing yellow eyes, lit from within and set against jet black feathers, fixed their gaze on me and began to float in my direction. Three hundred yards turned into one hundred yards and before I knew it a Short-eared Owl silently washed over me with the wind. I turned and watched her go, she seemed curious about me, but unconcerned about my presence. She was busy hunting. She drifted along the edge of the marsh and circled back out over the open prairie. Her long brownish-orange wings perfectly matched the color of the fall prairie grass. She would fade into the background as she banked and turned just over the top of the prairie. She was a master of the air; her speed, grace, and agility were mesmerizing. She would transition from cruising and scanning to diving down into the prairie feet first in a split second.
She led with her impressive talons when diving. She dove at least ten times as I watched and she usually popped up a few seconds later and continued hunting. The small rodents she is after seemed to elude her. She flew over the prairie in random circular patterns interspersed with straight flights. I stood still and watched and she repeatedly flew past me at close range, but never as close as the first time she flew over me
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Kevin asked how you got so high up to get a picture of the back of an owl in flight. I told him you were hang gliding. Beautiful bird, curious that she has a feather out of place at the base of her tail.
Kevin asked how you got so high up to get a picture of the back of an owl in flight. I told him you were hang gliding. Beautiful bird, curious that she has a feather out of place at the base of her tail.