If you go owling, you don’t need words or warmth or anything but hope…

the kind of hope that flies on silent wings, under a shining owl moon.

Jane Yolen, Owl Moon

This is a quote from one of the kids’ favorite books, and Ted was really excited to get up at 5:30 in 25 degree weather to look for owls as part of the Christmas Bird Count. (photo above is from last March)

Warmly dressed, moving quietly through the moonlit night, we called the Great Horned Owls first.  They have been calling in the night recently, and have not begun to nest, but we are certainly hoping that they will soon.  We began at the helicopter landing pad, sending the classic hoot into the night.  Silence prevailed.

We decided to move further on down the island to the conservation easement, much of which is still knee deep in water, but before we got there, it was clear that we had awakened a pair of Great Horned Owls, and then another pair.  There were calls resounding back and forth across the island.  We then called a screech owl.  Almost immediately, an answer rang out, and it was not long before the sounds moved closer and closer to us.  We were amazed by the owl’s ability to triangulate our sound so quickly after we only called once.  That owl swooped silently in, passing feet above our heads before settling into a tree nearby.  We moved to Lone Cedar, and the owls followed us– another flew over our heads, and at least three continued a “conversation” around us for a while.  It was really breathtaking to be out there in the moonlight, and by now light was rising slowly, so we headed out to the dunes at the North End to see if we could see a Short Eared owl hunting in the early hours.  No luck there, but we found flocks of shorebirds just waking up.