Friday morning, my daughter Willow (whose turn it was to feed them) called me to the duck pen, where there was a male Great Horned Owl. It had apparently found its way into the pen during the night, but couldn't find its way back out. (There're only small spaces where the chicken wire 'roof' doesn't align perfectly with the 'walls,' and, anyway, an owl may be able to descend through such a space and yet be unable to climb straight up to get out the same way.) The result was one dead duck (which had already lived a full life and had quit laying eggs awhile ago) and the opportunity to band the local male owl. My granddaughter Celestine helped Willow and me with the banding.