An Owl in the Neighborhood

Neighborhood Owl

“There’s an owl in the neighborhood. I heard him late last night

When the wind was wild and restless and the moon was round and white.

I hurried to my window but nothing I could see

Showed anyone in all the town had wakened–only me.

Owls live in the forest where trees are dark and tall

But I am sure that here in town I heard a night owl’s call.

                                                                                                                      –Blanche Day Manos

In northwest Arkansas as in northeast Oklahoma, we have lots of trees. And, of course that means we also have tree-dwelling animals and many birds. I enjoy all birds but I have a soft spot for whippoorwills and owls. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because when I hear them, I realize that someone else is sleepless besides me. And yes, I have seen and heard an owl in the neighborhood within the city limits.

I don’t really know why I like owls so much. Maybe it’s because they are mysterious. Maybe it’s because of their haunting trill. True, a screech owl has a cry that can send a shiver down the stiffest spine but the hoot owls have a soft, hesitant voice. It’s fun to listen to one call in a rhythmic pattern and then hear, farther away, another owl answer in the same pattern.

There’s much to admire about owls. They fly silently. Their feathers are arranged so that they make no noise as they come swooping down upon a hapless mouse or rabbit. They have the ability to turn their heads 270 degrees. They need to do this because  their eyes are in  front as are the eyes of humans. Other birds have an eye on each side of their heads to detect approaching danger but the owl must swivel his head.

Many superstitions surround the owl. After all, he flies at night, for goodness sake, and is rarely seen. And, admittedly, when we hear this bird somewhere in the darkness, it could sound spooky. I have no superstition about the owl. He is another of God’s creatures and, as such, I stand in awe of his amazing abilities.

My mother used to say that when they heard owls calling at night in the Illinois River bottom, they thought it was a sign that rain was on the way. I don’t consider that a superstition. That’s folklore, gleaned from many years of experience.

Or maybe I like owls because I’m intrigued by mysteries. I wonder if that’s why the mystery story is my favorite genre?

Manos Mysteries