So, it turns out I’m sort of doomed. According to my dad, all animals that aren’t afraid of people are doomed. “Come to think of it,” he added, “People who aren’t afraid of people are doomed.”
While we met another member of his species who did seem to fear humans at least to a certain extent, this little guy was not terribly afraid of people, and so apparantly he's doomed:
One of the benefits to being a person who stops to read every last sign and historical marker is that every once in a great while the reading material is actually interesting. We met this canned goods sized bird, a burrowing owl my mom decided to call Fred, only because I couldn’t let this sign go unread. And let me tell you that it well made up the seconds I lost having stopped to read a sign that merely chastised someone for failing to control his or her weeds:
According to my mom, who read this website, burrowing owls are in big trouble because although it is illegal to bulldoze over their borrows while they are home, the moment these tiny fellows go out for pizza, all bets are off. Their humble abode can be razed in favor the next condo or beach home…although, we joked, there’s a rule about leaving the owls an entrance through the basement AND, my dad added, “You have to put one of those little signs on your door that says, ‘Mi Casa Es Su Casa’”.
Of course I had to also run right out and find a children's book to go with our discovery - Hoot, by Carl Hiaasen.
This website did say that that their numbers seem to be up from last year: more on the twipply skwood cuties.