Date: 2/6/26 3:48 am From: 'BARBARA BUFORD' via NFLbirds <nflbirds...> Subject: Re: [NFLbirds] Owl Talk
Thanks Don, Barbara
> On Feb 5, 2026, at 9:20 AM, '<ctsnow8618...>' via NFLbirds <nflbirds...> wrote:
>
> Love it!
>
>
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> On Wednesday, February 4, 2026, 2:24 PM, Don Morrow <donaldcmorrow...> wrote:
>
> I got down to St. Marks NWR early and walked along Lighthouse Road at the Double Bridges under a bright half-moon. The East River crosses under the road here. Barred Owls nest in the hammock along the river and I was hoping to hear one. Just after first light, when day birds began to call, I realized that I would be disappointed.
>
> I can do a reasonable Barred Owl call and when I was younger, I often used it to attract owls. Hooting up owls can be done to survey them or be used as an environmental education tool, but owl calling is a minor form of owl harassment. You’re not really talking to the owl. What you are doing is challenging them by apparently being another owl in their territory. This causes an owl to stop feeding while it investigates the intruder. As I have gotten older, I have become content to walk in the dark and let the owls pick their moment.
>
> One night, though, I did have a conversation with an owl. It was forty-five years ago, during my second year of graduate school. Memory can morph over time, sharpening and elaborating some details, blurring, and eliminating others. As best I can remember, this is how it happened.
>
> I lived on Old Chesterfield Road on the outskirts of Winchester, New Hampshire, a small town down near the Massachusetts border. A few hundred yards beyond our house, the pavement ended and the road continued into a thirteen- thousand-acre undeveloped state park. I would sometimes stay up late writing papers and drinking coffee. Wide awake at two or three in the morning, I would go walking in the park until sunrise.
>
> Snowfall had been light that year and there was only about a half foot of new snow on the ground as I set out down the road in the moonless dark. New Hampshire winters are very cold – sub-freezing to sub-zero, but I was dressed for it with heavy boots, wool pants and sweater, a down vest under a heavy parka, a wool hat, mittens, and scarf.
>
> I had no plan that night, nor on any other. Starlight reflecting off the snow had turned the landscape black-and-white. As my eyes quickly adjusted to the night, it was easy to see my way. The park had a welter of twisting, unmarked dirt roads, and trails. I followed Old Chesterfield Road as it shifted from snow-covered pavement to snow-covered dirt, Then, based solely on whim, I turned onto a connecting trail and wandered out into the night.
>
> When my path led me into thick evergreens the surrounding forest edge was black and I walked down a white pathway roofed with stars. When I passed through leafless deciduous forest, the night opened up and the trunks of the maples and oaks stood in ranks of black silhouettes against the lighter snow.
>
> Some nights the wind howled through the trees, sending snow down on me from the branches above. That night was still and quiet. No sounds intruded from the surrounding rural countryside. I walked making random decisions when I came to intersections until I found myself on the edge of a pond. It was not big –maybe an acre across. Its frozen surface was a white expanse of snow-covered ice. The sky above was black and spotted with stars. As I stood there quietly, listening to the silence, a Barred Owl called from the far side of the pond with its standard eight-part call. Who-cooks-for-you, who-cooks-for-y'all.
>
> That night there was no need to hoot up the owl, it was there and had already announced its presence. But, when it called again, on impulse I pulled the scarf covering my face down, inhaled a lungful of freezing air and hooted my Barred Owl call out into the night. I waited a few seconds and then the owl responded. I was enthralled and began to duet with the owl. The owl would call; I would call back and then the owl would answer me. After a few minutes I began to wonder if we were really talking or was the owl simply calling rhythmically and I just happened to call in the gaps between its calls?
>
> Barred Owls have a number of calls. The eight-part Who-cooks-for-you, who cooks for y’all is the most common, but they sometimes do a variant five-part call, sort of Who, who, who, whoo wah. The pattern is reminiscent of a Great Horned Owl call, but louder and more exuberant. I switched to the variant Barred Owl call and from the far side of the pond, the owl switched its call to match mine.
>
> We continued hooting to each other for a few minutes until the owl switched back to the eight-part call, which I matched. We continued duetting and I was beginning to wonder if the owl had just been humoring me. Then it switched back to the five-part call. I matched it and we continued hooting to each other across the frozen pond. Sometimes I switched the cadence of the call and sometimes the owl switched, but regardless, the other changed to match the new cadence.
>
> We continued until my face and lips were frozen and I was chilled from standing in the snow. I stopped hooting. The unseen owl continued, switching between the five-part and eight-part calls. Then it fell silent.
>
> I had duetted with Barred Owls before and have done so since, but this was different, more intimate. The owl and I had had a conversation. I was aware that there was an intelligence on the other side of the pond and hoped that the owl felt the same way. I’m still not entirely sure what we were talking about. Sort of, “Can you do this?” but it was enough.
>
> The sky was beginning to lighten in the East. It was time to head home. I had a general sense of where I was and I always managed to find my way. I adjusted the scarf to cover my face and began the long walk back home through the snow.
>
>
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