 Remembering Artemus
Artemus had been found in early March 1991, at about 4 weeks of age, on
the floor of the compressor
room of a manufacturing plant in West Eugene. There was another
baby,
found dead, on the ground; and when we finally found the nest in a
corner of the compressor room two days later, the only other youngster
was also dead. The parents were still around and seemed fine.
Artemus was brain
damaged - although not, we think, from the fall from the nest.
There
were none of the classic signs of head trauma, but he was always
developmentally about 3 weeks behind the other young barn owls with
whom I raised him - those important milestones like figuring out that
food falling from the forceps has not disappeared off the face of the
earth or being able to balance on one foot. He never hissed
(which a normal barn owlet does even
before his eyes open) or screamed, even though the others in his
hospital cage were doing that at every sight or sound of a human.
My
totally unproven hypothesis is that the sound waves from the compressor
(like sitting in front of a bass speaker at a rock concert!) had
somehow effected the embryos while they were developing in the egg.
Artemus
was, however, an amazing education bird. Calm around people, he'd
sit
quietly on his perch, making many casual observers ask if he was
stuffed! He'd even go to sleep during a long booth display.
I've heard so many people say that he was the most beautiful bird
they'd ever seen, and others say he was the ugliest! The best
description I've heard in these many years together was provided by a
child who called him the 'poppy seed owl' for the delicate dark spots
on his very white chest.
Starting
in the spring of his second year and for the next, despite the fact
that we still lived
in a completely residential neighborhood, he somehow managed to attract
a female, who visited every night for months at a time. He had
some heavy charisma, I guess, to pull a lonely female into completely
unsuitable habitat - who knows how she found him!
One year early on I had
very young orphans in - so young that it was critical that they have an
adult role model, if not outright parenting by a barn owl. Most male
barn owls simply bring food to the nest, letting the female do the
ripping up and feeding. But Artemus at that point didn't have a mate.
I made a shelf sticking into his enclosure out my laundry room window,
put a heating pad on it, and a pet carrier with this nest of tiny
owls. I would lift off the top of the carrier in order to feed them
from inside the laundry room, but they could look out the door of the
carrier at Artemus 24/7.
I was amazed one day, early on, to
see Artemus on the shelf with the tiniest piece of mouse in his
beak.
Since he normally ate mice whole, it could only be that he was
motivated to feed the babies - or at least so I hoped! I opened
the
door and waited ... and waited. There's no way a human can
outwait an
owl. So I finally decided to take the risk of leaving the carrier
door
open and hope my instincts were correct - that he was trying to feed
the babies, not eat them! Although I never saw him feed them (his
incredible hearing could always tell I was coming, no matter how
stealthily I thought I was approaching), I would
catch him coming out of the carrier - and when I weighed them daily,
they were gaining weight.
In 1994, I rehabilitated an adult female barn owl who was ultimately
non-releasable. Since she was the first adult owl that Artemus
had tolerated, I decided to keep her as a companion for him and named
her Diana. (Diana and Artemus are the Roman and
Greek names for their goddess of the hunt, the moon, and
wildlife. Seemed appropriate for an owl found on every continent
except Antarctica.) They've been together for nearly 14 years and
though at first Diana would not help foster youngsters unless she laid
eggs of her own (which we discouraged), eventually she was right in
there along with Artemus. He reverted to 'male' provider and we'd
find a whole dead rat in with the small babies, waiting for Diana to
rip it up and feed it to the youngsters. Together, they have
fostered, and helped us release, probably 200 young owls.
Interestingly, neither adult liked 'teenagers.' Owls brought
in for care post-fledging age were not welcome (and might be actively
harried) but they opened the larder and took excellent care
of any nestling we could provide them. I cannot tell you what a boon
that has been, when in some years we had over 40 orphaned barn owls
come in for care throughout the spring and summer ...
Seventeen years is definitely a fairly long life for a barn owl,
especially considering that their average life span in the wild is less
than two years. However, it's always hard to lose a long-time
friend and I would have loved for him to stay with us a lot longer, as
long as he had a good quality of life. For the last six months,
he was stepping onto a T-perch held up to his roost box, then onto a
glove for two different types of heart medicine which, apparently, were
fairly nasty-tasting despite the disguising liver flavor! But
then other systems started to fail, all related to the heart problems
and poor circulation.
Artemus was a favorite with many visitors, as well as staff,
volunteers and, obviously, me. He will be sorely missed.
His essence is now truly free and he left his mark on the world, even
from inside a cage. Louise |
