Owls of Different Sorts  

                                                                                                                 When most people think of owls, they picture the Great Horned Owl. This is the large, impressive bird with the long "ears", the piercing yellow eyes, and the deep, booming "Who, who, who" of countless movies, stories, and legends. Or, perhaps most recently influenced by the Harry Potter movies, they might conjure up an image of a Screech Owl or even the Snowy Owl that, as memory serves, Harry himself uses to receive and send messages to and from Hogworts.   

           Of whatever stripe they may be, owls are creatures of mystery. Because they are active largely at night, and because of those haunting voices, they evoke feelings of superstition and of awe. Few people see owls very often, again because of their nocturnal habits, so they can be greatly surprised by one when they do encounter it. It is, I think, safe to say that most people who have encountered an owl or two in the past few years remember the details - and the emotions - associated with the encounter.   

           Despite the image that the Great Horned Owl conjures, it is almost certainly not the owl that local people most often encounter. That honour most likely belongs to the Barred Owl, another large, impressive bird, albeit one with big, liquid brown eyes rather than the striking yellow of its relative. It is altogether a gentler bird than is the Great Horned Owl, which has the distinction of being one of the most fierce avian predators in North America. It hunts and is otherwise active earlier in the evening than is the Great Horned and that accounts in large measure for its being more conspicuous. It is also one of the two species that we most often encounter in our annual spring owl surveys. In fact, it is really the target species for these surveys because it is considered to be a very good "indicator species" that is, one whose presence is an indication of a reasonably healthy forest environment. it serves this purpose well, too, by the fact that it announces its presence with its characteristic "Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you allllll? call at almost any time of the year. (The Great Horned Owl most often calls for a very short period in late winter.)   

           However, very few people at all have met the third common owl of our woods, despite the fact that it is about as common as its two larger relatives. This little bird is the Northern Saw-whet Owl. Picture an owl with bright yellow eyes and no conspicuous "ears" that stands all of 20 centimetres (not nearly as big as a robin!) and, instead of hooting, toots. Its characteristic call, which it will repeat over and over again when it is in the mood, sounds for all the world like a little tin whistle that can only play one note. It sounds monotonous when I describe it in that way, but coming from deep in a thicket in the middle of the night, it just might be one of the most thoroughly charming sounds in the spring woods.   

           Jim Clifford and I have encountered more than two dozen of these little birds thus far this spring - fourteen of them in one night last week. We have even heard two of them, obviously a mating pair, singing a duet, first one tooting and then the other in response.   

           There are so many reasons why people like me have become fascinated with birds. Getting to know something about the owls in our neighbourhood continues to add to that fascination. In this age of declining forests and of increased urbanization, one can only hope that the voices of the night - the owls, the frogs and toads, and all of those other mysterious creatures - can continue to find the space to conduct their affairs of life.