Who Cooks for You?

By Jane Farrell

We went for a walk one evening, when the light was fading and the kids in the neighborhood were all finally dragging their bikes into the garage. We thought that one especially lively child was still yelling in play. And then we realized that the voice wasn’t a child, but an owl’s. Two of them. In our extremely prosaic neighborhood, in one of the very few clumps of trees that hadn’t been cut to make way for yet another house.

Most owls don’t sound like the hoo-hoo you traditionally associate them with. We’d gone on a nature hike the summer before and learned about the barred owl, whose picture is above and whose call sounds like Who cooks? Who cooks for you? (You can check it out here). That’s what we heard tonight – two adults, plus some hoots and plaintive gurgles we eventually figured out was the baby owl. Unlike many human parents, the adults talked right over him (or her) for a minute or so. Then they all grew silent, and we guessed that they were waiting for us to leave. Or maybe they just got tired of talking.

That was a few months ago. We’ve learned to listen for them now. We hear them at night from our house; the trees where they nest are still there and hopefully will be for a while. One wonderful day I heard them in the afternoon, clearly at a greater distance, maybe cruising  around in search of lunch. They were having another one of their animated talks, and it went on for a long time. I stood outside the house, not wanting to miss one note, and I kept looking around for someone to share it with, but the kids were at school, the parents were at work, and there aren’t a lot of people hanging out on suburban streets at midday. So it was my own magic moment.

I hope the baby’s learned to fly by now.

For more on barred owls, click here.