Close Encounters of the Noisy Kind

A sunny winter's afternoon, inside a sheltered woodlot, strolling along the well-packed trail, I encounter a family, parents with their youngsters. "Have you seen the owl?" I ask. "No." they respond, "is there one here?" My opportunity to play hero, I take them several metres along the trail, veer off the beaten track another few metres and say, "Up there, in the upper quarter of the cedar." There it is, a gorgeous Barred Owl, seemingly oblivious to our presence. The young, rosy-cheeked boy, about 10 or 11 years old, lifts his binoculars. "It's beautiful!" he exclaims. Hearing his innocent enthusiasm and seeing his look of amazement, I am overcome by feelings of satisfaction and hope.

It's these close encounters that can change a person's life, bringing new awareness of our magnificent planet, especially such in-your-face views of those mysterious, shy creatures that easily avoid detection. Owls in particular have an appeal that transcends the sport of birding. The human-like, forward-facing eyes, shrouded in folklore and superstition, make them crowd pleasers. I get a thrill every time luck allows me to bring these rarely-seen animals to people's attention.

But getting them into view is no simple task. Even persistence and experience comes with a low success rate. For this reason, I have called upon a skill acquired back in my rebellious youth, when I played the role of class-clown. In efforts to attract my peers' attention, I practised making silly, obnoxious sounds with various parts of my body, usually incorporating vocal manipulations. Little did I realize that these repugnant noises would have a practical function later in life. Now, when faced with a shy species, I attempt to imitate its sounds, hoping the furtive creature comes into the open.

"Hmmm. . .I know there is a Barred Owl here somewhere. Let's try calling it in. . . Whoop Whoop whoo-hoo, Whoop Whoop whoo-haaaaaa". The sound is fairly easy to imitate, often phoneticized as "Who-cooks-for-you Who-cooks-for-you-all". It takes a little bravery to risk sounding like a fool. However, when the owl flies out onto an open perch, staring back at you through the flashlight beams, responding with vocalizations and head rotations, you realize the experience is worth all the silliness. And, if you have an audience, they certainly wouldn't consider you anything less than a charmer (of birds anyway).

Want to see a woodcock? Simple. . .just say "Preep-preep-preep", a sound we can create by trapping air between the cheek and gums, releasing it through the upper lip. What sometimes follows is a curious shorebird circling over your head, with wings chirping.

While standing at the edge of Cavasso Creek, near Aransas, Texas, I listened in frustration to the "Kee-kee-droo" call of a Black Rail. The bird was hidden deep in the reeds, not far from the roadside. I had nothing to lose, so I performed a rough imitation that resembled the rhythm and tone of the elusive marsh bird. I thought I sounded more like a hybrid between an Eastern Screech-Owl and a Great-crested Flycatcher. Surprisingly though, the rail's call started getting closer. After a few minutes, to my delight, a little black ball with white spots crawled through the vegetation at my feet.

Over the years, I have learned to make many other embarrassing sounds that get a response out of nature. Like a jazz percussionist engaged in duet, I trade riffs with a drumming Ruffed Grouse by beating my chest. I blow through my thumbs as I cup my hands to entice a few notes from loons. And, it doesn't always have to sound precise. Whistles, peeps, chirps and burps. . .it doesn't matter. Whatever works is fair game. Who cares how foolish you look, if it results in one of those profound life experiences?