A Wish for Silent Nights

On Saturday night I hiked to a marsh with an aim to spot a Great Horned Owl. There the air temperatures dipped below the freezing point. Clouds drifted like tendrils of hair in the wind, covering and uncovering the face of the full moon.

Using the aid of binoculars I scanned a distant stand of trees overlooking the southern shore and at the edge was a snag. Yes! The owl was perched near the top of it on a slim branch. I walked to get a closer look.

Ten minutes later I saw the owl’s tufts, like cat ears, pointed skyward. The wind ruffled its feathers. Some moonlight escaped the clouds and illuminated its white throat patch. As I stood nearby I watched the bird’s head oscillate slowly to each side and back like a fan, likely aware of my presence.

I wondered what small prey the owl could hear because there was significant interference of urban highways and air traffic noises, at least to my ears. When living in a metro area as I do, maps display blue and green ink blots — fluid and tiny organisms — indicating local parks or nature reserves; and all surrounded by asphalt and concrete grids for roads, residences, schools and businesses.

Certainly, the owl’s ability to hear was greater than most. I tested mine by turning my back to the reeds. Could I detect their movements in the wind by sound unaided by sight? Hardly. When I turned back and saw them, I heard friction from their swaying forms only faintly and there were thousands of reeds brushing up against each other. In comparison, a deer mouse, a common food source for owls, weighs less than an ounce rooting beneath layers of fallen leaves. Owls and many other birds of prey are forced to adapt to noise pollution and it does impact their abilities to detect animals and hunt successfully.

After 30 minutes, I observed the owl change its posture by lifting its wings and tilting its body in a downward angle like a girl poised at the edge of a diving board before plunging into a swimming pool. Is this the moment of surprise? Is the owl about to swoop down?

Time passed before the tension evaporated like a soap bubble; the owl’s muscles eased and shifted into a squat as if to better shield itself from the cold. Fifteen minutes later, the bird stepped off the branch and flew north on steady wing beats. I watched the owl disappear in the darkness to find a quieter place to hunt.

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