Underground

My prediction Friday morning had been that my stake-out Burrowing Owls would be safely huddled in their warm caves, waiting out the coldest night of the season. I was wrong: at two of the sites we visited, birds were up and out, soaking up what warmth there was before retiring for a morning nap.

Graham spotted this one, a cobble-sized and -shaped bird that I would probably have driven right by.  The resemblance to a rock ends, though, as soon as they fix you with that golden stare.