Asleep until sundown, he stirs, yawns, peers about, stretches, scratches, shakes head to clear brain fog and waits. His nightly mission begins on silent wings, ever vigilant for movement on the ground. A twig moves, a sudden drop, talons grasp a vole or a mouse. Ah, breakfast! He surveys his land, stops at its edge and recites his claim like a whistle running down stair steps. Who? Our neighborhood screech owl.