Lessons from Nature: Who flew down the flue? New column series begins with mystery of and message from a late-night visitor

​​Riverkeeper note: The following column was written by Middle Susquehanna Riverkeeper John Zaktansky, the first in a series of columns under the heading "Lessons from Nature." You can contact Zaktansky via email at [email protected]

Years ago, after a long night of work at the local newspaper, I threw in a load of laundry before heading to bed at 2:30 am when a metallic scratching noise from our oil furnace broke me out of a detergent-measuring trance.

Like fingers on a chalk board, yet much more sinister, the sound came again. Screeching, scratching, razorblades on the inside of our metal stovepipe that connected the furnace with the outside chimney.

What could be making that noise?

It moved down the piping toward the damper — the door opened ever so slightly, and an inch-long, razor-sharp claw popped out.

I sprung to action, grabbing a nearby fireplace poker and using that to hold the damper door closed while my mind raced on what could belong to a talon that big, sharp and intimidating?

It was too menacing to be a squirrel, too big for anything really that should physically be able to fit into a six- to eight-inch diameter metal pipe. Whatever it was, it wanted out through my damper door.

Like any responsible homeowner who can’t afford an emergency middle-of-the-night pest control service, I decided to secure the opening with tape and other items laying around until the less expensive pest control options were available during business hours.

I learned in the morning that even those options didn’t fit anywhere near my budget, so my wife and I decided to handle the monster in our stove pipe on our own.

Armed with a flashlight, Leatherman, canvas leaf-blower bag, duct tape and my fireplace poker, we started removing pieces of pipe one at a time to reveal the beast within.

By then, it had retreated to the base of our chimney – a 5.1-ounce screech owl.

​My plans for a violent attack on the intruder dissolved quickly. This owl was so tiny, obviously lost and terrified. I couldn’t bring myself to poke her with the poker.

So I called a nearby falconer, who rescued her from our chimney flue while giving my then-6-year-old daughter a lesson in wildlife recovery.

Screech owls are cavity dwellers — meaning they search for small open places to roost and nest. Typically that is a hollowed-out tree, but for one night, that happened to be the rural Middleburg chimney where I lived at the time.

“These guys are fierce little killers — every night they come home with food,” shared the falconer, Mike Dupuy, as he learned more about the species and continued to give us updates on the visitor from our chimney. He observed various screech owls through remote cameras and other research. “I expected there to be a lot of mice and voles, but have been surprised at the number of smaller birds they bring back — I’d say 40-50 percent of their kills have been birds.”

He has also seen a trend of birds that will peek into the nesting box hole during the day when the screech owls are not active, as if to say, Dupuy added: “I know you killed my cousin Vinny — I’m keeping an eye on you.”

The screech owl’s efforts to find a home in my uncapped chimney was a good reminder to me to be more responsible with such fixtures – and that species like the screech owl are increasingly in need of places to stay.

‘Habitat continues to decline. People will cut down dead trees for firewood or because they feel it is a danger or an eyesore,” Dupuy said. ‘However, as we eliminate all this potential habitat, it reduces the places screech owls and other cavity-dwellers (like the kestrel) can live.”

Since then, our family has moved closer to Selinsgrove and when taking care of some tree issues that were threatening the house, intentionally had the tree service leave up one dead, hollowed-out tree along Penns Creek that isn’t a threat to our structure when it eventually does fall.

This tree is a hotspot for a wide variety of species, including – I am pretty sure – a screech owl family according to our backyard Birdnet system and the vocalizations we hear regularly from that part of the yard.

There are manmade nest boxes available to purchase (or plans to make your own) to help augment habitat for cavity-dwelling species such as screech owls and American kestrels.

Ultimately, this experience was one of many over the years that reminded me how our interactions with nature can lead to some pretty amazing learning experiences if we let our curiosity lead the way.

Throughout this year, as part of the Middle Susquehanna Riverkeeper Association’s 2025 commitment to Build a Reverence in our River by reconnecting people with nature, I plan to share some of these “Lessons from Nature” columns as a way to encourage others to mindfully connect with nature and look for some important take-home messages along the way.

​Of course, that also means introducing you to the inner-workings of my unique thinking processes, fueled by a childhood love of Encyclopedia Brown books and an overly active curiosity. So, I find myself trying to figure out things the odds of a random bird hitting me with a fly-by dropping through the sunroof of my old Volkswagen Jetta while I'm driving home from the dealer ... and also solving the mystery of who was de-heading our flock of family chickens. In the end, each discovery comes with an important realization about our place in, and impact on, nature. 

Along the way, it would be great to also share your personal encounters, as well. I’d love to share specific stories of moments you had in nature and what you learned from that experience. Feel free to share them with me at [email protected]
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Until the next “Lessons from Nature” column comes out, let’s be a little more mindful of our cavity-dwelling friends and not so quick to knock down all the dead trees and other natural places they could use for nesting sites.