Last night, arriving at the top of Strawberry Hill in Stow Lake at dusk, just in time to catch the last pink and orange of the sunset, I heard a characteristic, throaty “who-whoooooo.” Several people were standing around, under a tall stand of cypresses, looking upward. And there, sitting on a naked branch, was a Great Horned Owl, unconcerned about his audience below. Quite a sighting! Soon he lifted gracefully off the branch and swooped off to another tree, out of our view. We sighed with satisfaction and dispersed.
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