Every spring, around April, I visit Antelope Island to watch and photograph a pair of Burrowing Owls.
If I’m lucky, I might spot both the male and female, but on this particular day, only the female appeared. She waited patiently for her mate to return to their favorite spot.
At some point, the female grew bored and yawned—yes, owls can yawn too. It was a slow, drawn-out yawn.
After a while, she began to stretch, and she looked remarkably like a ballerina.
After preening, she shook herself vigorously and, in the blink of an eye, was transformed into a fluffy ball of feathers.
Generally, life is good.
This is fantastic
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