Barred owls are supposedly fairly common in the woods of the Northeast, and occasionally they will set up shop on the edges of the field and boom through the night – they have incredibly loud voices. Last night one started booming so loud I thought he might be on top of my cabin – so I went out to investigate. He wasn’t on the cabin, but I knew he was not far away. I know you can’t sneak up on an owl, who hunts mice by ear for chrissake, so I was afraid he would take off as soon as I began to approach, but not only did he not run away but he kept on booming as I got closer and closer. It was dark night, but I shone the light into the trees, and sure enough, there he was – sitting in an old gnarled cherry, right at the tip of an upward-facing dead branch, exactly as an owl should. He stopped making noises when I got within thirty feet, and he just watched me, with what appeared to be curiosity absent any fear.
These are extraordinary looking animals. This one was large – two feet tall, perhaps – and the way he looked down at me from the tree it was hard not to find things in his face – wisdom, indifference, curiosity, malevolence, benevolence – for is not wisdom a mixture of malevolence and benevolence? He seemed an embodiment of all we look for in a forest.
I watched him for a long while, shining the light at times on myself so he could get a good look at me too. Then when I got within fifteen feet of the tree’s trunk, he leisurely flew off, turning his head before choosing his route, and noiselessly made his way into the night.
3 Comments
Wow. That’s awesome. Do you hear him often? Or was this the first time you even heard one?
I hear them often. In June they call to each other constantly. The usual “who cooks for you-all” call with a drawled finish that sounds like the bird just got throttled.
great post!