Baby owl drama

I didn't see the owls - mother or baby - all day yesterday. A giant thunderstorm swept through the night before and I feared the worst. The hubs came home from work at his normal time. "Any sight of them?" "No. I'm worried about little Bear," I said. (I never should have named the baby after my son. I'm a sentimental boob.) My spouse took a quick survey of the backyard, looking up at all the regular places. No owls. Then, he took the dog for a walk. At cocktail hour, he ventured back outside (he's a sentimental boob, too... a boob with a beer) and called me from the yard. The mama owl was perched on the railing of our backdoor neighbors' deck. "What the heck is she looking at?" we wondered.  Twenty minutes later, this photo appeared on my neighbor's Facebook page...

The caption read "Owlet stuck in my back porch. Now what?" I sent her a link to a local wildlife rescue organization and worried about what the poor little thing would eat until they got there.  I feared the mother had already lost one of her young and was probably sick with worry - like me. After dinner, we saw my backdoor neighbor and the other young mom on the block outside, covered in blankets and sipping wine. They had put their human children to bed in time to witness the mama owl free the baby, lead it all the way around the house on the ground and climb together, back up the towering tree. Today, all is well in Wild Kingdom. For now.