By Jim Light

As the date for the grand opening of the Hopkins Wilderness Park lower pond neared, I spent nearly every day doing a variety of tasks around the pond, often after dusk. While working, I would regularly hear a pair of owls hooting back and forth. I’d hear the double “hoo-hoo” coming from one direction and a responding “hoo-hoo” from somewhere else. I sometimes took a break to find the owls, but to no avail. One day while walking and scanning the trees, one of the attendants came through to close the park and pointed out the owl nest to me. It was huge. I had seen it before, but that day, I saw four pairs of eyes staring back at me. The yellow staring eyes of owlets in their downy gray cloaks. The two “ears” revealed them to be baby great horned owls. Their faces were framed by the downy gray feathers that make it look like they were each wearing chain mail. And their faces had that haunting stare that made them look constantly angry, or at least bothered.

From that first discovery, I made it a habit to stop by the tree with binoculars or my camera with a nice sized zoom lens to check in on the owlets. After a few visits, I noticed that there was usually a shadowy sentinel on a nearby branch – one of the parents watching over the nest. When compared to the owlets, the adults looked huge and imposing. And they had the same countenance – looking right at me with a scowl. Through the weeks, I got to see the owlets growing in size and in activity. I saw them eating one time, which was pretty gory. The next day I found the claw of a small bird in their scat at the base of the tree that held their nest. Must have been a bird I saw them feasting upon. I saw them move to the edges of the nest and eventually to the neighboring branches. I was fortunate enough to experience the parents silently gliding through the trees at dusk patrolling for food. Most birds you can hear flap… not the owls. They are silent shadows majestic and at the same time agile dodging tree branches and trunks. I will never forget the sight and experience.

One of the owlets seemed to be more adventuresome than the other, but eventually, they were both taking excursions further from the nest. Usually, the parent, likely the mother, was very close by. During a windy evening I saw the more adventurous of the two testing its wings against the breeze. It would not be long before they left the nest.

Sure enough, one day I trained my binoculars on the nest – and it was empty, devoid of the life and activity I had been enjoying so much at the end of work days at the park. I felt deflated. But then I heard the now familiar “hoo-hoo.” And sure enough turning to the call, I spotted the two fledgling and an adult high up in a neighboring tree. The owlets could fly! And although it is likely me anthropomorphizing, I felt as though the adult was yelling to me, “over here dummy.” I continued to see the family in nearby trees – sometimes two, sometimes three, and, when I was lucky, all four. But lately, I see them less and less. I miss them, but I am so grateful to have witnessed this miracle of nature and to have shared it with this family. I was fortunate to have found several feathers from the owlets around their tree. I tucked them into my straw lifeguard work hat as a valued souvenir.

This experience cemented in me why I value Hopkins Wilderness Park so much. I share the lower pond now with a pair of black phoebes who have claimed it as their bug hunting grounds. They seem to tolerate me without fear while they display their acrobatics and flying dexterity going after their meal. There are a pair of mated mallard ducks who go between the two ponds, and three young males that fly in daily for brief visits before flying off. There is a family of western blue birds in a nearby tree house. There are two families of hawks at opposite ends of the park – or at least there were until the fledglings left the nests. I still hear the “scree” of the hawks as they orbit overhead looking for prey… One evening I heard a cacophony of black bird, owl and hawk cries… I have no clue what was going on, but there was much in-flight circling and diving above the treetops by the hawks and crows - all while seemingly yelling at each other with the owls joining in the chorus. So much life in a small park surrounded by streets and high-density urban development.

Hopkins Wilderness Park is an oasis for wildlife. I cherish the opportunity to experience so much in such a small area. It rekindles that childhood sense of wonder in me. It is magical to experience the sherbet sky of twilight through the silhouettes of trees, and suddenly see a majestic owl whisk silently by, gracefully picking its way through the tree canopy. And that is why I feel so compelled to maintain and improve the habitat throughout the park – giving back to the creatures that bring so much joy and awe to me. After the daily machinations and grind of city hall, it is so rejuvenating to take a brief refuge in such a wondrous pocket bursting with life. In high school, I was in the chorus and we sang a beautiful song called “I Know a Green Cathedral.” Here, in Redondo Beach, Hopkins Wilderness Park is my Green Cathedral.

Fun Great Horned Owl Facts

The largest owl with ears and one of the largest owls in California

Roosts during the daytime in coniferous trees

Breeds in forests, swamps, orchards, parks, riparian areas, semidesert

Thanks to Jim Light for the blog and photos and Adam Johnson for the Great Horned Owl facts

An Owl Encounter: Over here!