Barred owls at twilight

Barred owl photographed as it sat above
a Boy Scout skills class at Boxwell in 2007.
Most scouts never knew it was there.

This evening I had just entered the woods at twilight when I heard a few tentative calls from a barred owl off to my left. It was just a basic, single "whooaa," coming from somewhere up on the eastern ridge of the hollow. It called lightly, maybe 2 or 3 times.

And then, clear and loud, I heard another owl call from the right, on the western side of the hollow. It was the full, classic, unmistakable call of the barred owl, "who cooks for you, who cooks for you-all?" This bird was closer, maybe only 50 feet away. I stopped in my tracks of the forest trail, listening and straining my eyes up into the leafy shadows.

I knew it was hopeless to try to spot this owl, but I had to look anyway. Perhaps it would fly, and if I were lucky, I might catch a glimpse of it through the openings in the canopy. I stood and stared, and heard it call maybe 3 or 4 times, each call separated by unmeasured moments of silence.

Suddenly I heard another call, now directly overhead, loud and raucous. The bird who wanted to know who cooks for us gave immediate answer, and the air seemed to explode into crazy, raucous, unworldly owl sounds. The owl to the west was still in the same spot, but the bird to the east had flown silently into the tree above my head and was now clearly communicating to the other.

I was utterly delighted to be experiencing this boisterous scene. Here I was in the middle of what seemed like an owl reverie. Many people tell me they've never even seen or heard an owl, and most would probably be terrified by the sounds I was now hearing. This was the stuff of scary ghost stories, the sound track of things that go bump in the night. And yet I, knowing the source, was delighted to be right here in the middle of an owl conversation. For just a second I had the urge to join the crazy, wild calls, but it was easy to restrain myself. What would I have said anyway?

Suddenly a shadow formed into wings in the tree above my head, and the wings glided silently toward the owl still call just up the hill. Then it sounded as if they were together, side by side on an unseen branch perhaps, and they continued their calling for a moment more and then just as suddenly the wild reverie stopped. Ceased. Silent.

Silently the owls sit hidden in the forest.

                                                                    
Go here for a brief description of Barred Owls by the National Geographic Society. Take a minute to listen to the audio. The first call is the classic "who cooks for you" call. Toward the end is a series of calls similar to what I heard during my owl encounter tonight.