Saving the Silent Hoot: The Story of a Barred Owl Family
Owlets Second Chance
04/18/2026 - Saturday
Our early morning kayak at Crooked River took a heartbreaking turn as we made our way towards Palatlakaha River Boat Ramp. This was not where we launched, but along the way, where we paused to watch a mother Barred Owl hunt for her two owlets. One sibling took flight to a nearby perch toward the mom owl, the second tried to follow and became tangled in discarded fishing line and a hook high in a cypress tree.
The next hour was so frustrating. I spent three calls fighting through automated systems at the FWC (Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission), only to be told they don’t rescue raptors. They gave us a contact to reach out, which also ended up telling us they can't help. I used google and ended up coordinating with Audubon Center for Birds of Prey, while awaiting their rescue team.
What was most disheartening was the "bystander effect." Countless boaters passed us to start their weekend festivities. They offered "poor baby" comments, but not a single person stopped to help. We considered kayaking back to the launch and driving home for a ladder, but with the owlet struggling, we didn’t have a second to waste and it would have been too late. We were stuck, watching and waiting. Thankfully, our friend Oleg answered the call. He rushed over with a ladder and we began the rescue operation. At the same time, a great group from Blue Hike Paddle Tours with Oakland Nature Preserve paddled by. Unlike the others, these folks dismounted their kayaks and stayed to help hold the ladder steady. It was a team effort, Oleg and Vlad climbed up. Oleg then carefully passed the owlet down to Vlad. Once back down, they finally cut the line and removed the hook. To our relief, the owlet was strong enough to fly to a nearby perch and reunite with his mother and sibling. We stayed for a while, watching to make sure he was steady, alert, and moving normal. Owlet was able to perch securely, stay balanced and showed no signs of injury. What’s truly sickening is that something like discarded fishing line nearly cost him his life...
Hissing in the Hammocks
04/19/2026 - Sunday
We headed back to Crooked River following morning and found the owlets snuggled up together. Locating them was no easy task. The area is under a heavy canopy of cypress trees draped in Spanish moss and resurrection ferns. The shoreline is thick with sawgrass and overhanging live oaks. Owlets blend in perfectly! We heard them before we saw them! The owlets make a distinct, high-pitched hissing sound when their mom isn't nearby. This vocalization allows the adult owl to locate them easily in the dense canopy and is owlets way of signaling for care. The pair seemed sleepy and have successfully flown a bit further into the canopy. For the rescued owlet to gain that distance from yesterday’s rescue spot is a huge win! We’re estimating they are around 8–10 weeks old now. By roughly 12 weeks, they generally master sustained flight and begin learning to hunt.
Sadly, we’re still finding hazards. We managed to remove more discarded fishing line and a hook from a cypress tree, along with a handful of litter. Even in a beautiful preserve, human impact is everywhere... and especially when it comes to fishing line, it can last in the environment for up to 600 years. It's a death trap.
A Bridge of Trust
The morning of the rescue left me exhilarated but deeply unsettled. While my focus was on the owlet, I couldn't help but notice the state of the place. The boardwalk and shoreline were littered with the debris of human carelessness. I promised myself I’d return, and that same evening, we were back at the boat ramp with trash bags in hand. The haul was disheartening: beer cans, tissues, nails, socks, and an endless stream of snack wrappers, sauce packets and of course more discarded fishing line.
As we paused for a breath on the boardwalk, a tiny glimmer of hope for a sighting turned into a reality that felt like something out of a dream. Mom appeared. We have spotted her in the canopy, but she didn't just stay there. She swooped down and landed directly on the railing right in front of us. We shared several beautiful minutes in each other's presence. While she sat there, she even performed a full rouse (puffing out her feathers and shaking herself out like a fuzzy cloud). In bird language, that shake is a 'reset' button; it’s something they only do when they feel 100% safe and relaxed. It leads me to wonder: do owls remember faces? While science warns us against anthropomorphizing (try saying that three times fast! 😆), I can’t help but believe she recognized us. She had watched the entire rescue from her perch just a day ago. If it was curiosity or a silent acknowledgment of us, we’ll never know. But in that moment the bond with this family felt even more real.
Evening Shadows & New Perspectives
04/21/2026 - Tuesday
We set out into the evening, our kayaks gliding toward the heart of the 'sweet spot.' As we paddled, we passed a Great Egret standing on of the the logs and spotted an Osprey perched high above, silhouetted against the sky. But our ears were tuned to a different sound… It didn't take long before we heard the raspy 'squeak' of an owlet echoing through the cypress. It took a few minutes to adjust our eyes to the deepening shadows, but there he was. The owlet was on the move, shifting between perches as he explored his expanding world. At one point, he tilted his head back, staring straight up into the vast, darkening sky. It looked like this tiny creature is just beginning to realize the scale of the world. We sat in silence, just observing. We haven’t spotted River Dad yet… and while we’ve been listening intently, the river has only offered up the higher hoots of the Mom Owl and the persistent begging of the owlet(s). Just as we turned our kayaks to head back, we got one last surprise. There she was, perched on top of a massive fallen log. She wasn't watching us this time as her focus was locked on the sawgrasses below. The sun was down and the hunt had begun. Most people see a downed log as debris, but for a Barred Owl, it’s a strategic hunting platform. It gives them a low-vantage point to hear the rustle of frogs or rodents in the reeds. It's a great a perspective they can't get from the high branches.
Until next time!
Looking up and dreaming big...
There is a fleeting moment in every owlets life where the horizon suddenly expands. Here is one of the owlets in a moment of wonder. He sat still, tilting his head back to gaze up at the sky above him. Seeing him stare into the expanse made me think about the journey ahead of him. His world is growing every day and he might just be realizing how high he can truly go.
It’s a big world out there, little one...
This mom Barred Owl knows that in the forest, the best things come to those who wait and watch.
Earth Day & the Invisible Trap
04/22/2026 - Wednesday
We returned for a dedicated cleanup mission, equipped this time with heavy-duty grabbers, a ladder and an extendable pole saw. It was Earth Day, though I’ll admit I was so focused on the cleanup that I didn't even realize the date until much later. It turns out there was no better way to honor the day. We successfully reached higher into the canopy, pulling down even more snagged fishing line from the very tree that nearly became owlets grave.
We also cleared an incredible amount of debris from beneath the boardwalk and shoreline. There was a moment when the mission became visceral when the 'ghost gear' claimed a new target: me. In a split second, I found myself tangled in discarded line hidden under the boardwalk. It was a frustrating moment that underscored exactly 'why' we are doing this. If it can trip a human, an owlet doesn't stand a chance. We kept a constant watch on the cypress and were rewarded with a sighting of one owlet far across the river. No sign of second sibling today, but in this environment that's to be expected. The work isn't finished, but the river is a little safer.
One healthy owlet watching us from across the river. Best motivation to keep going!
Meeting River Dad in the Shadows
04/23/2026 - Thursday
Back at the boat ramp this evening for another round of cleanup. The river continues to reveal both its beauty and its burdens in equal measure. We managed to collect three full bags of trash, pulling everything from discarded shoes to spent shotgun shells. While some fishing line still mocks us from the highest reaches of the canopy, the area finally looks and feels significantly better. As we worked, the place came alive with sound. We heard two distinct owlet calls. One call was echoing from across the river and another, surprisingly, from directly above our heads! We were just about to wrap up for the evening when three resonant calls echoed through the trees. Looking up into the dense branches, we finally caught our first glimpse of the River Dad. It was our first time seeing him and he didn't disappoint. He had successfully hunted an opossum and after having a little snack, we watched him deliver the meal to one of the owlets. Seeing him for the first time and in action (especially after some uncertainty) was the best reward for an evening of hard work. There were no sightings of Mom or the second sibling today. We are nearly finished with the grounds. Next, we’ll be using our kayaks to reach the remaining trash spots along the shoreline that we couldn't get to on foot.
The One-Week Mark
04/25/2026 - Saturday
We launched early this morning, desperate to beat the heat and the inevitable rush of weekend boaters. The river was already awake and as we paddled, we passed an Osprey perched high with a fresh catch. It has been exactly one week since the rescue. We moved through the water with our eyes locked on the canopy, eventually locating the Mom Owl. She was tucked away and sleeping in a pocket of morning sun. By sound alone, we eventually found one of the owlets. He was perched securely, exactly where we had last seen the siblings together. There was no noise, no hissing and no sign of the second one. The river just felt different... We focused on the work at hand and managed to pull a significant amount of line from the sawgrass and haul out several bottles and pieces of trash left by recent visitors. The mission of stewardship follows the monitoring. We left the river cleaner than we found it, however the second owlet remains a ghost in the canopy. The search for the full family continues...
The River Gives and the River Takes
04/25/2026 - Saturday
After a long stretch of heavy heat, the rain finally came. We set out for an evening hike to the Crooked River Preserve, walking over sand that had been carved by the rain into miniature riverbeds. As we neared the shoreline, dense canopy finally gave way and the river opened up. We heard them before we saw them. The resident pair of Barred Owls communicating back and forth, their voices echoing across the water. It was a beautiful duet. In what felt like a slow motion moment, one adult glided past us, followed immediately by the second one, turning to look directly at us mid-flight. It was a subtle acknowledgement of our presence in their world. Both parents perched nearby and then the owlet followed. In the wake of the rain, as the sun slipped toward horizon, mist rose from the river like drifting spirits. And then, we saw it… an unmistakable sign that we lost one of the owlets. The heartbreak was instant. At that very moment my mind raced, trying to find a reason to disbelieve what I was seeing. It’s hard to put to words the silence that follows such discovery. The moment where your heart breaks for the things you can’t change… But the nature is as honest as it is brutal. And just as we were processing what had happened, the surviving owlet flew directly above us and dropped into the bushes to investigate something in the soil. He stayed there for a while, exploring the earth, until his parents called him back into the canopy.
We just stood there and it was getting dark. The water turned darker. Through a gap in the trees, a single patch of golden light percolated, reflecting on the surface like a flicker of the candle in the shadows. It felt like a tribute. I took a picture.
We lost one owlet, but the light has not gone out… There is no way to tell which sibling remains. Life and death are constant neighbors on the river. Even with all our efforts, these birds live on a razor’s edge. Whether it was a predator or the elements, we will never truly know. Nearly 70% of owlets don’t survive their first year… and as we have seen already, they face some big challenges out there.
When we returned home the river followed us… Sitting in the oak tree in our own backyard was a male Barred Owl, his voice breaking the heavy evenings silence. The timing felt like more that a coincidence. We couldn’t help but wonder, could it have been River Dad? We will never know for sure, but the message felt clear: hope has a voice, and tonight, it was sitting in our own backyard. Their story doesn’t end here.
Watchful River Dad perched among green foliage and Spanish moss, blending in perfectly into this habitat.
Bridges of the Past, Ghosts of the Present
04/26/2026 - Sunday
The evening set in hot and muggy as we launched, but the river eventually offered its shade as we paddled. We went looking for the remnants of a bridge. Historical records indicate that a wooden trestle bridge crossed the Crooked River here as early as 1911, serving as a vital link for local citrus growers. The bridge vanished from aerial records by 1941.
Courtesy Osceola Public Library.
Among the scattered bricks and concrete, we found wooden pilings still piercing the water… ancient bones of a Florida long gone.
But the river was also hiding more modern ghosts. Near a cypress trunk, I spotted a bobber. What looked like a single snag turned into a massive, tangled nest of fishing line wrapped around the base of the tree. We pulled and pulled, clearing yet another trap from the water...
As we neared the spot, the air changed. We heard the Mom Owl calling so close that we held our breath. Suddenly, she dropped from the canopy, skimming inches above the water before landing on a snag to scan the sawgrass. It was hunting time.
In the gathering dusk, there was a contact call echoing from the shadows, River Dad was near. He swept past us, disappearing into the darkness of the cypress.
Then, we heard the owlet. We found him tucked deep in a thicket and though the light was failing, the lens revealed something concerning. He looked dirty, his feathers matted as if he had fallen into the mud. Maybe he had a clumsy moment. We can only wonder what he’s been through today. The silence where a second voice should be was heavy...
Back at the launch, in the sand, right where people step, I pulled out a large, jagged shard of pottery and yet another tangled mess of line that wasn't there 24 hours ago. It’s a constant cycle of cleaning and clearing the way, but seeing the owls is all the reason we keep coming back.
The Echo of Authority
04/30/2026 - Thursday
Set out for the Crooked River Preserve this afternoon for a hike/trash walk. The goal was twofold: keep the place clean and, hopefully, catch a glimpse of the owl family. The work started early, I found cans and bottles tucked in the brush I almost had to bushwhack to reach them. Thankfully, my grabber stick did the heavy lifting. Soon enough we heard the familiar raspy call first and spotted the owlet perched alone. His voice already seems to be changing and losing some of that high-pitched infant rasp.
But the real drama was unfolding nearby. We soon found River Dad perched on a cypress tree snag and focused on the sawgrass below.
Suddenly, he dropped from his perch and vanished into the thick sawgrass. For what felt like an eternity, everything went still. My heart sank, knowing all too well how many gators patrol these shorelines… Finally, he emerged with a large caterpillar in his beak and flew straight to the owlet.
As we were heading back, a Red-shouldered Hawk began to drift too close to where both owls perched. River Dad didn’t hesitate and let out a one powerful and deep 'Whooo!' that echoed through the trees, sending the hawk on its way. It was a clear warning: the hawk was not welcome. We left them perched together in the fading light, holding their ground in the heart of the preserve.
One owlet remains and my commitment to him is steadfast. He will stay under his parents' guidance for the next few months. I’ll be continuing to check on the owl family and remove any new threats from the shoreline and preserve itself. I’ll continue to share the journey here. Thank you for following this family's story through the highs and the lows.
