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I stole a midday break from work to check Glover Pond in Davis County today. It was about 1:00—maybe 1:30—and nothing was moving. Not one gull rippled the very low water of the pond; not one duck siesta’d within reeds or sedge lining the banks; not one Pied-billed Grebe wrestled with floating strands of green algae. Nothing. I was happy to see, finally, a small, still bird perched on the top branch of a dead bush on the western edge of the pond. It was a Loggerhead Shrike. It flew to another bush on the pond’s edge while flashing its black and white wing patches and maintaining its characteristic flat-backed, direct flight. The shrike actively twitched left and right in the second bush and focused its attention and low, sloping head down into the dry bare branches. I focused down, too. Without binoculars, I could discern a mere blob; with binoculars, my heart started pumping faster and I retrieved my scope from the truck. Thank you, Mr. Shrike. The blob was a Barn Owl. I know these tales of true birding adventure are getting a little repetitive, but cross my heart—it really was a Barn Owl, and it was fast asleep out in the sun. "Why aren’t you in a barn, Barn Owl?" I thought. "Why aren’t you in a silo, Silly? Why aren’t you under the roof where Farmer Brown stores the hay--Eh?" The owl didn’t answer my silent ruminations. The farm on the northwest corner of the pond offers all these secluded retreats, and yet, here was Barnie asleep in the heart of a dead and woody shrub in brilliant, still sunshine. As I watched the sleeping bird, the sun cooked my southern exposure. It sure was hot, for October. The heat waves billowed up through the scope view and the image of the owl wavered faintly. I could see other waves billowing in the distance over Farmington Bay, but they were waves of waterfowl billowing back and forth like clouds of flying ants. The owl was oblivious to all. It perched facing south—a profile view—within the branches of the dead shrub. The owl must have created its silhouette by pulling a strawberry-blond cowl-necked sweater over its head and got its face stuck in the wide opening. The face was a white field slashed with a small black vertical line that was its eye. The edge of the facial disk appeared as a dark question mark outline. The owl’s silhouette curved forward and the bird appeared slumped with head on breast just like a human napper who falls asleep while sitting up. The lower half of the owl’s body was obscured by an open whorl of gray branches that jutted out toward the pond. The tips of the owl’s wings were visible below the branches. The bird swayed gently in its sleep and then slowly turned its head west toward Farmington Bay. I could not see the face any more. It stretched its head and neck away from me and the caramel feathers on the back of its neck looked lumpy. Slowly, as if the owl’s head was attached by a spring, it returned to its original slumped position and went back to sleep. I felt like I was stealing a private view, like I was intruding from 100 yards or more across the pond. This reclusive sleeper might not have desired my inspection had it known I was there. But given the chance, I’ll steal the private view again. Even as I type these directions, I don’t recommend Glover Pond at this time of year—after all, I only saw two species of birds! Anyway, from the south, take I-15 Exit 322 in Centerville going east and turn left onto the frontage road (Market Place Drive). Drive 3 miles and turn west on Glover's Lane and over the interstate. Drive approximately 2 miles west (passing the south turn to Farmington Bay) until the road ends near the ponds and radar tower. From the north, take I-15 Exit 326? (construction makes this murky right now), Lagoon Drive. Drive south past Lagoon Amusement Park, turn left on Clark Ave, right on Main Street and west over the interstate. Turn left on 650 West and right on Glover Lane. Drive 1.5 miles (passing the south turn to Farmington Bay) to the pond. Kris |