They made me run today: over hill and vale, under fallen tree trunks and through plenty of tan oak brush. I started out easily enough, by calling from up top on a ridge where they had been three times before, and where I was sure they would be again. Instead, I got a male and female response from down in the arroyo, opposite of the slope I had just climbed up. Eventually I found them, after much climbing and thrashing through brush, including hauling myself up an embankment by grabbing onto a Bay tree which had fallen but was sprouting all along its trunk. I was soaked in sweat and covered with dust and tree flakes, in addition, the flies were awful. The reason I had come was to check on the male's bands, but he ended up being unbanded anyway. As I was writing up my notes, he suddenly launched from his perch to smack down on the ground, with wings and tail splayed. Had he seen some little tidbit? But instead of returning to his perch immediately, he sat there in the sun, in that fully extended position, blinking sleepily. Eventually he righted himself and flew back to his tree. The female then flew in and began begging which may indicate that he had indeed captured some snack and she wanted a share.
I just love (after the fact) how I assume that my job is going to be simple and clear-cut: find the owls in the same place they always are, and get the male's band status. But it seems that more often than not, they have the upperhand (wing?) and I end up running through the forest, tripping on roots and falling down into arroyos. They are clearly in charge of the situation; I remain a humble biologist.