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.' Crooked river always offers a spectacular opening act; 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 he was born to hunt. Wee 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. 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; her focus was locked on the reeds and shoreline grasses below. The sun was down and the hunt had begun. Owlets need dinner, after all, and the mom was officially on the clock. Until next time!
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 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.
Owlets will likely remain in the area under their mother's care for another 2 to 4 months. I plan to head out on my kayak frequently to check on them and will continue to share their journey here on the blog.
