Last night I felt extremely fortunate to have the opportunity to observe the banding of northern saw-whet owls, a small part of a much larger, continent-wide program to study these secretive little birds. While the country held (holds) its breath on election day, I sat outside in the crisp November air. I watched the bright moon rise over the trees. I felt the warmth of the glowing embers of a fire. I listened to the yips of coyotes carrying through the clear night. I enjoyed good company and conversation, and I waited for owls.
Recently Banded Northern Saw-Whet Owl (Aegolius acadicus) | Jefferson County | Kentucky
200mm | 1/160th second | f/4.0 | ISO 4500
Northern saw-whet owls are named for the toot-toot-toot sound they make, like a sawyer sharpening the teeth of his saw with a whetstone, and on a first encounter, one is immediately struck by two things: first, those piercing yellow eyes, and second, just how small they really are. The owl we banded last night weighed just eighty-one grams, a little less than a deck of cards, and about the size of a robin. But make no mistake; this is a raptor. Those intense eyes miss nothing, and they have the penetrating gaze of a predator.
After gently removing the bird from the net, he was carefully fitted with an identification band, weighed, measured, and examined. This bird is a “hatch year” male. We know it is male because of its size - females of most raptor species are larger than males. The method by which its age is determined is quite fascinating unto itself. As if owls were not cool enough already, it turns out that they glow under ultraviolet light. Their feathers contain the pigments called porphyrins, which fluoresce neon purple-pink when exposed to UV. As the feathers age, the porphyrins break down and lose their fluorescence. This owl’s underwing glowed brightly and uniformly across its entire length, indicating that all the wing feathers were the same age, which is possible only in a bird’s first year. Fledglings grow a complete set of adult feathers in the year they hatch. From then on, the owl will molt only a few feathers at a time, and will show a mix of brightly fluorescing new feathers alongside duller, older feathers.
Northern Saw-Whet Owl Banding | Jefferson County | Kentucky
Once the data had been quickly recorded, our little bird of prey was placed carefully on a branch in thick cover. It sat there for quite some time, recovering from the hopefully minor indignities suffered at the hands of the strange primates, possibly plotting his revenge, and then he was gone, disappearing silently into the darkness.
What I find perpetually amazing and inspiring is that these tiny owls, like so many other animals, are here, right under our noses year after year, and yet they are almost never seen. The northern saw-whet owls push south every November, sometimes just a few, sometimes larger numbers, but always they come. Some stay for the winter, some continue south as far as the gulf states. Every time I go outside I feel like there is hidden treasure all around me, available to me if I can only be observant enough to notice. And on a night like last night, when the entire country was on edge (and remains so as I write these words), that knowledge of the bigger, deeper movements of nature was a welcome relief.
To learn more about the northern saw-whet owl banding project, click here. And for more pieces like this from yours truly, subscribe to my website via email and I will deliver them right to your inbox. No incidental exposure to social media election coverage required:-)
Greg
P.S. - Like all others lucky enough to spend an evening with these owls, I remained strictly in “observation-only mode.” The capture, banding, data collection, handling, and release of the birds is done only by experienced ornithologists. I was moved by their sensitivity to the owl’s well-being and obvious love of these beautiful creatures.