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I don’t speak Mandarin, or any Chinese for that matter, I know but a handful of Spanish words, that’s it.
That being noted, I can talk a Canadian honker right down out of the sky, my mallard is second to none on any triple curl, bluebill skirl rolls out and off my tongue turning a downwind flock on a dime.
Many, too many now, years ago, with an elderly woodland instructor I was shown the intricacies of trying out some owl-ese, he started me with the smallest of owls, the saw whet.
Probably best I start small he figured but the three-beat tone, of a hopeful mate in spring, is now mere child’s play. Predawn seems to be the best time you can call one, and it coincides perfectly with maple tree tapping, quite literally almost to hand.
My closet mini winged forested visitor flew to within an arm’s length of me after only a six-minute exchange, and whatever I was beep, beep, beeping, as I had no idea then or know now what I must have been owling about, nonetheless that tiny ball of feathers was three-peetin’ right back at me.
I’ve done it many times since, only one that close though. And there are lots of owl types, I can only communicate with two, so far, the second being the barred owl. Three in the morning, peak times for barred owls, for me at least, I can confirm that many mornings with the mega bags under my weary eyes, but you know the one, who- who- who, who, cooks for you.
The silent gentle beep approach with saw whets, is the exact opposite with a barred owl, you hoist your lungs, and another difference is saw whets I mouth call with just my own vocalizations, my barred owl-ese is done successfully do to a wonderful handheld hand carved mouth call, and just like Chinese, that I don’t speak at all, I understand not a single hoot of any it, except that it’s a lot of fun.
- The Trout Whisperer
