At the very least, every time I trek down the driveway to get the mail, I'm now wearing high-powered binoculars and, before I make the return trek home, I take a side trip across the street to hike across my neighbor's meadow, get into a place where there's a clear view of the Great Horned Owl nest, and see what Mama's doing. Today, I thought I spotted the slightest trace of white not quite covered up by the GHO's wing feathers, and when she decided it was time to head out in search of food, I gave a hoot of my own and, to my great delight, watched a little downy head emerge from the crater of the nest. So there was at least one owlet in there, and, from the look and size of the baby and the strength with which the fuzzball could rise out of hiding, it was clearly not a brand-new hatchling. I beamed at my good fortune and left quickly to avoid to much disturbance. Later, I brought the big telephoto and captured the recent arrival, still an only child as near as I could determine.