The owl is still here, as of this morning. The curse of Friday the 13th did not apply, at least in the a.m. But it was close. The poor owl has among its harassers not only dogs, hawks, and bicyclists, but also dim-eyed photographers. As I arrived at the scene, another photographer whom I had not seen before had entered into the protected area a good fifteen yards or more, looking vainly for the owl, even though she was almost on top of it. The owl, in response, ducked deep down into the grass and probably into one of the nearby ground squirrel burrows and became quite invisible. After the intruder left, the owl gradually perked up again and showed itself. It seemed to me — I am probably a sentimental old fool for thinking this — that the owl spent a much longer time than usual in eye contact with me. Usually we photographers on the boundary have the honor to be ignored most of the time. Was the bird saying good-bye? It’s difficult not to get emotionally entangled with the wild creatures. We are better stewards if we observe their boundaries and keep within ours, and where necessary, become good neighbors by building good fences. Anyhow, the owl has now stayed two days past the longest-dwelling owl of the past season, and that’s a great thing. No, I’m not forming a pool on its departure date.