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Seth Kellogg

In the Thrall of Owls

First Printed:

March 28, 1999

They say the eyes are windows to the soul, and it may be so. Looking into another's eyes can reveal much about their thoughts and feelings. The lover's gaze is perhaps the most famous feeling, but there are many others. It is also not just the human soul that can be seen through a glance.

For some creatures the eye is even more important and potent than ours. Have you ever been transfixed by the penetrating stare of the short-eared owl? Once seen, it will never leave your memory. Many years ago I was leading a bird club trip to Parker River National Wildlife Refuge in Newbury on the coast, north of Boston. You can drive along the barrier beach there and observe the marsh and meadows on the inland side.

As we arrived at a grassy hill, a short-eared owl came down on a meadow vole near the edge of the road. We stopped and watched as the owl mantled its capture, wings spread out in protective defense of its meal. The warning look the bird gave us haunts me still. It was the most alive and fearsome emotion I have ever seen in another creature's eyes.

Short-eared Owl

Last week we saw another short-eared owl a few hundred yards further down that same road. He was just sitting in the grass, so the look he gave us was not so fierce, but still expressive and magical. Some of us had only seen brief distant looks at this owl face before. Its startling beauty was the highlight of the trip.

Like primates, birds are "sight animals," with a poor sense of smell. They share the need to detect food, enemies, and mates in the rarefied atmosphere of the treetops, where scents quickly dissipate. The binocular vision of birds is especially well developed, and the owl's vision is most like the human, because the visual fields of both eyes overlap, being set together in the front of the head. This allows more precise estimation of the ever-changing distances of moving objects, such as prey.

If you are wondering why an owl was out in the bright sun at mid-day, the answer is that this owl can see well in dark or light. Usually the short-eared owl is most active

at dusk and dawn. If it is not disturbed by the competing harrier or marsh hawk, which hunts only in daylight, it will be active then as well.

Owls can see well in full light, but they have the extra ability to see well in the dark, which brings us to the sense for which they are even better known, the sense of hearing. If their eyesight is acute, their ears are even more amazing. The short-eared owl gets its name from the small tufts on the top of its head, but those are only decoration, not ears. As with all owls, the enormous ear is buried deep within the protective layer of feathers on the side of the head.

A friend once told me he rubbed two fingers together and aroused instant attention from a sitting owl fifty yards away. The bird had flown in at first light as the friend was sitting motionless in his deer stand. This unique ability gives the owl the advantage it needs to feed itself, but the careless mouse morsel is not the only thing the owl hears. It hears other owls.

If eyes reveal the soul, then the sound of a singing owl tells even more. Unlike songbirds, both the male and female owl call in the night, serenading a duet that binds them together. The human voice can imitate the basic sounds of many owls, but the nuances of the real thing are beyond our ability to mimic.

Play a tape recording of an owl in the early morning well before dawn, when there is no traffic noise, and you will be rewarded with an amazing assortment of whistles, hoots, chortles, and purrs. Only the words of the poet or the voice of the lover can surpass it. Then you will know why owls are reputed to be wise. The depth, variety, and richness of the sound of the owl in the night is enough to charm and enlighten the dullest mind or the hardest heart.

If the eyes are windows to the soul, then the ears are the gates to paradise.

These columns are edited by Michele Keane-Moore and reprinted with permission of The Republican, Springfield, MA and Seth Kellogg's family. Images may or may not be representative of original printing.
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