Until recently I lived in a magical corner of the city of Seattle, on a hillside overlooking Puget Sound, surrounded by thick stands of big-leaf maples interspersed with mature fir, cedar, and spruce trees. My husband, Charles, and I shared this patch of nature with abundant wildlife: coyotes, weasels and river otters, deer, and all manner of birds.

In our last few months there, we became transfixed by ongoing hostilities between a barred owl roosting in one of our maples and a murder of crows. No matter the time of day, when the crows spotted the owl, they would surround it, caw incessantly, dive-bomb, and generally harass the bird.

It was hard not to feel sorry for the owl, which was, to