Over the past several months, throngs of respectful looky-loos have gathered under a towering Shoreline Park eucalyptus tree to catch a glimpse of nesting great horned owls. Residents of the east Mesa neighborhood had heard the species’s distinctive hoots for years ― a great horned owl’s territory covers around three acres ― but this is the first time they’ve started a family so publicly.
Ralph Clevenger, an award-winning wildlife photographer, lives across the street and was exercising in the park one April evening when he noticed splotches of white poop and owl pellets at his feet. Sure enough, when he looked up, Clevenger spotted a pair of adult owls and three small chicks. The chicks had just started “branching” by awkwardly jumping and flapping from limb to limb, their precursor to flying. Now, they’re beginning to fledge and follow their mother on hunting trips.
“It’s been the neighborhood highlight with groups stopping by the family tree every evening to wait for the owls to fly into the night,” Clevenger said. They dive from 80 feet up, swoop low to the ground, and disappear in the darkness. Unlike other birds, owls lay their eggs a few days apart, so the oldest chick is more adept while the littlest stays closer to mom. Evidence of their meals sometimes appears in the morning, with Clevenger one time finding a half-eaten crow.
Over the next few weeks, the chicks will strike out on their own. Clevenger, now retired, said it’s been a treat to document their formative days. The city has erected a rope barrier around the tree to keep people from getting too close, but Clevenger has seen nothing but respect for the owls and their nocturnal activities. During the day and having outgrown their nest, they roost out in the open, still as statues…