Ghosts of the night fill our towns
Like Hamlin of legend, Hollister and San Juan Bautista would be
very different places but for the presence of one animal
species.
Ghosts of the night fill our towns
Like Hamlin of legend, Hollister and San Juan Bautista would be very different places but for the presence of one animal species.
If you were asked what the most abundant bird of prey in the greater Bay Area is, you would almost certainly guess wrong, because you probably have never seen one.
It is the Western-screech owl, a nocturnal bird not much bigger than a robin, one that does not hoot but sounds a quiet series of accelerating notes.
Its larger cousin, the barn owl, is easier to spot, and it’s the one primarily responsible for keeping our towns livable. Wherever they roost, the ground under them is littered with parts of rodents and other prey.
Without barn owls our towns would be squirming with rats.
People frequently call barn owls screech owls, because their most frequently heard call is anything but a hoot. It’s a metallic shriek that sounds like steel plates being torn apart. For a small animal, it must be a chilling accompaniment to the end of a life.
The pale-colored barn owls are often seen ghosting overhead by those of us who walk around after dark. Their flight is eerily silent.
If you are ever lucky enough to touch one, the reason becomes clear.
The owl’s feathers are unimaginably soft and downy. Moreover, the leading edge of its flight feathers has a row of tiny barbules that curve upwards. The structure disturbs the air flowing over the wing, creating greater lift and a lower stall speed. The wind through their wings carries no sound to give them away.
The barn owl’s adaptations only start there. They are a compendium of specialization.
The arrangement of rods and cones in their eyes gives barn owls great visual acuity in near darkness. But even if their eyes are masked, the owls can pick a mouse out of a field reliably.
They do it with their ears. Hiding under those luxurious feathers are impossibly sensitive ears. We all hear in stereo, thanks to ears on separate sides of our heads. But owls also hear the altitude of a noise, since one ear is located higher on their heads than the other.
As their name suggests, barn owls are well adapted to co-exist with humans and their structures, but they do not depend solely on buildings to raise their young.
Locally, one can often be seen perched in the rafters of the galleria at Mission San Juan Bautista. Around Hollister, passersby often see them circling the steeple at Sacred Heart Catholic Church. The trees near old Hazel Hawkins Hospital have a lively population as well, and nearly every palm tree in downtown Hollister is home to one or more.
Last week, several of us encountered a nest in the crotch of an old Monterey pine outside some county offices. As we passed near the tree, I saw the adult owl’s head. It’s the same spot that’s held a barn owl nest for at least the last two years. I clapped my hands together a few times, and up popped the tiny head of a downy owlet, its black eyes glistening as it peered down at us.
A few minutes later, a red-shouldered hawk began buzzing the tree, punctuating the peace with its strident call.
A curious owlet looked at the source of the fuss, and the parent owl protected it under an outstretched wing.
It was a Wild Kingdom moment, right in our own back yards.
I’m grateful for the barn owls, and, laying awake in bed in the middle of the night, that chilling screech is a comforting lullaby.
Pass the Kleenex
After reporting last week that local honey seemed to be easing the packed sinuses, itching and sneezing that accompanies hay fever I began sneezing. Thursday through Saturday morning was like old times – miserable. After that, back to the happy clear head.
My guess – this is not science – is that something new came into bloom, something that was not blooming when bees collected this honey.
I still think there’s something to honey fighting pollen-borne allergies, but further research is being conducted: one teaspoon in a cup of coffee every morning.
I’ll keep you posted.
