Where we live we are surrounded by trees and there’s a lot of woodland nearby.
It’s lovely hearing all the sounds of nature at different times of the year, the swishing sound the trees make when there’s a bit of rain or wind. That’s almost all the time if you live in the north of the country or thereabouts.
Quite often we ( mainly me!), can lie in bed and we can hear a bit of hooting going on. Where does that word come from? Hoot!
Apparently, the actual musical noise of the owl sounds like the word Hoot! Maybe so. But sometimes, I think it has a bit of an extended vibrato in the middle of the noise and sounds more like a hoooowoooohooooot to me. It can also be used as a form of disapproval like hooting your car horn at a pedestrian or, as an example of merriment….. you can hoot with laughter .
The English language is a wonder!
Let’s just say that our owl is hooting to see if anyone is paying attention, enemy or mate.
Anyway, at one time in my life I became a bit obsessed with owls. I think it started when I lived in London as a child and there was something to do with owls and one of the many bridges over the Thames. I can’t quite remember and my parents think I’m getting mixed up with the Ravens at The Tower of London.
Of course I’m not!
I know the difference between an owl and a raven.
Especially when the whole of the English monarchy is dependent on the ravens never ever leaving the tower!
That’s a tale for another time!
During my childhood outings to castles or other places of historical interest there was usually, along with the archery tournaments and the medieval battles, and the obligatory re-enactment of Robin Hood, a display of birds of prey with an assortment of shabby owls which I always wanted to look at but never dared to be brave enough to get too close to.
I think it was the complete look of disgust with that eye blinking thing after a five minute stare off ( from the owl, not me!), and that whole head turning only an owl can do which always seemed weird. Maybe, it was because in a scary film or something there’s always an owl in a tree hooting, blinking and turning its head like Linda Blair from the exorcist.
But I still liked looking at them.
Camping trips as a child were always best for listening for the owls at night .
I used to like to see them at wildlife places too, but now as an adult I’m not too keen on them being kept captive. And I really don’t like feeding time……..
On the other hand, Disney and A A Milne would portray the owls as wise and kind and a little bit tubbier than normal so maybe that’s why I liked them in the first place.
I started buying a few owl pins or broaches in my teens and not so long ago I bought an owl pendant in a silver chain that turned into a watch from Greenwich market . Cool eh?
One of my favourite drawings that I have is one that my youngest child drew in primary school. It’s a little scraggy owl, but it’s so cute. It’s at the top of this page. I even made a felt owl doorstop, I think my mother in law has that now.
Then along came the owl of the century in the form of Hedwig the snowy owl from the Harry Potter stories.
We all loved Hedwig.
I remember forcing my slimmer self as an 30 something adult into a tee shirt that was sold from Woolworths for a child of 12-13 yrs. It was pink and had a sparkly white Hedwig on the front. My eldest child had the same tee shirt .
And just as we got too comfortable reading about or watching Hedwig delivering mail in the world of wizards and witches, what happens???
JK Rowling killed Hedwig off!
I know she’s had some bad press lately, but did she really have to go that far with murdering Hedwig?
I think I actually cried when I read that scene in the book, and still cried watching it at the cinema for the first time. And I still have a lump in my throat whenever I watch that scene on TV. The absolute sadness of losing Hedwig!
At the age of 40 something I actually got close to a real live owl. They’ve started appearing in shopping centres now or cinema centres, which incidentally I feel is worse than being kept in a wildlife park!
This where I met my owl . Had him on my arm and everything. Can I remember what he was called or what species of owl he was? Absolutely not!
He was magnificently mahoosive and I was worried about his large talons and his beak. ( I made sure eye contact was not made because I didn’t want that blinking thing to occur)
I’ve got a picture of the two-hoo of us . See what I did there?
Anyway back to our night owl . Once I went out after listening to him hooting for about an hour, I flashed my torch about and sure enough there he was, sat in the highest tree. He was huge but also rather shabby and I felt a bit sorry for him. He didn’t look very impressed at being flashed so I left him to it.
I was a bit worried that he was a bit of a billy no mates but last night he got a hoot back. He usually hoots to the left of us and the returning hoot was from the right . You could tell the difference between the tones of the hoots. It made me really happy and I fell asleep listening to this hooting love affair .
I don’t hear him every night and I go through a stage of worrying that he’s gone or worse like Hedwig been written off!
So when I’m having one of those sleepless nights, sitting up with a brew ( that’s a cup of tea for you southern readers!), or I’m laying in bed pondering and I do hear him, then once again all is well with the world again for a little while .
Alison
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