What a hoot!
January 19, 2025



Did you catch the North American Owl Awards, guys? I was finally recognized for my trademark vocalization. I won the award for North American Owl with the Purest Hoot. Sure, plenty of owls have riffed on the theme, but nobody gives you the classic straightforward no-frills textbook owl hoot like yours truly, Asio otus, the Long-Eared Owl.

Listen to the North American Owl Awards ceremony, live from Zimman Field at Tufts University in Medford, Massachusetts!

The Plumicorn Kid
December 11, 2024



Psst! Hey, mac. Yes, I mean YOU. I'm over here, in this conifer tree¹: an Atlas cedar, if I'm not mistaken. See? I'm standing stock still beside the trunk so that my mottled brown coloration blends in with the bark². Over here! Still can't see me? Hah! That's what I'm talking about! We Long-Eared Owls are camouflage experts, aren't we?

Well, no worries. You just keep searching for me while I sing the praises of the Long-Eared Owl, aka the Cat Owl³, in this first blog instalment of mine.

Of course, I should start my spiel with a disclaimer. About those namesake "ears" of mine: they're not really ears at all, you know. Oh, dear no. They're actually ear TUFTS, or elongated feathers, which help me camouflage myself from predators and communicate with friend and foe alike, by sticking them straight up in the air like this or letting them flop onto my head like that, as circumstances warrant⁴. That's right: ear tufts: or what your biologists would call "plumicorns.⁵" You might call me "The Plumicorn Kid," in fact, at least in my territory out west.

"The Rodent Saloon was unusually quiet that summer afternoon... until a young kangaroo rat named Bodie crashed through the swinging double doors, all out of breath, and shouted: 'The Plumicorn Kid's a-comin'!'"

Well, rodents should be scared, quite frankly, as indeed should all small critters that reside with us in our extensive North American territories⁶, including snakes, birds, insects, amphibians, reptiles, fish, and songbirds⁷.

What? You still haven't found me? Hint: you should familiarize yourself with my owl calls.

Speaking of which, we Long-Eared Owls have quite a few calls⁸.

To be honest, some of them are kind of goofy. Take my nest call, for instance. It sounds like someone playing a kazoo half-heartedly. I kid you not. It sounds like someone playing a kazoo half-heartedly. That's almost a contradiction in terms, you know, to be playing a kazoo half-heartedly. A kazoo, after all, is meant to sound wacky, and so the kazoo player is meant to be outgoing and emphatic. So when we hear a kazoo played apathetically, it's both jarring and funny at the same time.

But then even our breeding call "whoo" sounds half-hearted to me. It sounds as if the owls that make it are thinking to themselves, "Okay, I know I have to 'whoo' because I'm an owl and all, but that doesn't mean that I have to like it." It's like we're just 'phoning it in' when it comes to those "whoos."

Not that all of our calls sound half-hearted, of course. Some of our vocalizations resemble the mellifluous whistling of a sparrow, while still others bring to mind the mechanical clicking of a titmouse, as if one were listening to the tinny-sounding motor of a vintage toy that had just been wound up and set on a card table. There's even a weirdly discordant variation of this call with a hint of "cuckoo" in the background, as if the toy in question had been damaged and is now "going haywire." There's also a call that's reminiscent of the courtship drumming of a turkey.

Listen for yourself. Here is a link to a variety of Long-Eared Owl calls from Cornell Labs.

Aha! So you finally found me in this tree! Good for you.

Just in time because I'm wrapping up this first instalment of my Long-Eared Owl Blog.

Before I go -- or before I fly off in the style of my trademark moth-like flight⁹... I should remind you guys that I am a rooster.

Hmm. Perhaps I should reword that.

I am not a male domestic fowl, but my species often roosts in conifer trees with anywhere from three to 100 of their fellow Long-Eared Owls. It's called communal roosting¹⁰, to be precise, and it generally occurs in winter. This sets us apart from other owls, most of which are very territorial.

This does not mean that we Long-Eared Owls are outgoing, however. To the contrary, we are usually described as shy and skittish¹¹. If my own personality seems to suggest otherwise, it is only because my job as a species rep obliges me to overcome my native reticence and to emote. It's a constant inner struggle, but then I am getting well-paid in voles and pocket gophers.

Oh, wait a minute. Shush! Another guy is coming this way. Watch me while I fool yet another human being with my fancy camouflage skills...

Psst! Hey, mac. Yes, I mean YOU.


1: Long-eared Owl Guide (Asio otus), Birding Insider
2: Masters of Adaptation: The Life Story of Long-eared Owls, Rarest Birds
3: Long Eared Owl, Animal Corner
4: The Enigma of the Forest: A Comprehensive Guide to the Long-Eared Owl, Birds & Wetlands
5: Good Natured: Owl Ears, Hiickory Knolls Discovery Center
6: Long-eared Owl Range Map, Cornell Lab: All About Birds
7: Long-eared Owl, Audubon
8: Long-eared owl calls, Bird Watching HQ
9: Long-eared Owl Asio otus, The Owl Pages
10: Long-eared Owl, Owl Research Institute
11: Winter is the best time to look and listen for owls!, Naperville Park District