Mystical and remarkable

Among all the rest, there are three closely related species of owls in the Pacific Northwest, and each species individually has a special claim to fame. All three are in the genus Strix; all three are notable for a prominent facial disc and a lack of ear tufts; all three patiently hunt from a perch, often in the dark, preferably just after dusk and just before dawn; and all three are seldom seen except by those who specifically seek them out.

The name Strix is interesting in and of itself. It is the Greek word for owl. It was a name for both a Romanian and an Italian witch in the Dark Ages. It was the name for a vampirelike Roman creature of ill omen. The word has been used as a curse. And now, most recently, it has been applied to the scientific naming of owls; Strix is a genus in one of the two owl families, Strigidae – the typical owls – in the owl order, Strigiformes.

So, these three owls in particular, and all owls in general, carry a certain mystic reputation with them in their naming. And, of course, that naming follows from their unique avian structure and habits. Who, so to speak, has not felt an unnatural chill at the sight or sound of an owl in the night?

The most conspicuous of the three Strixes is the great gray owl. It is the gentle giant of the owls. The most renowned, or most notorious, depending upon your political focus, however, is the spotted owl.

The northern spotted owl, the group of spotted owls living in western British Columbia, Washington, Oregon and California, as separate from the Mexican spotted owl, the group living in the Southwest and in Mexico, is on the Canadian endangered species list and on the U.S. threatened species list, one step below endangered. The northern spotted owl is particularly dependent upon old-growth forests and has thus become a symbol in the battle between forest preservationists and forest exploiters quite beyond its own actual importance in the controversy.

Finally, we have a relative newcomer to the Inland and Pacific Northwest and scientifically the most interesting of the Strix owls, the barred owl. This owl comes with its own level of controversy. Is it a savage starlinglike creature in owls’ clothing, or is it an adventuresome and opportunistic ecological success story?

You see, unlike the northern spotted owl, which pits tree-huggers against tree-cutters, the barred owl invites ecologists to debate the question of what to do if we don’t like the way nature plays the game. Should wildlife managers intervene to change the rules because, perchance, we prefer one team over the other? But first, you need some background information on the barred owl’s biology.

The barred owl has long been a species of the East. It is not a physically spectacular owl with its oddly rounded head, its dark brown eyes, and its little shell of a beak. In fact, it doesn’t have a particularly intelligent or ferocious look about it.

Barred owls are, however, highly territorial the year-round; as a pair during breeding season and individually the rest of the year. As a large part of their territorial defense, barred owls are quite vocal. They can be physically aggressive, as well. If another owl invades, the territory owner will hoot and chase vigorously, and even strike the other owl with its sharply taloned feet. People, too, who have foolishly made a barred owl call too near a nest have left with a real impression, in their scalp, of how ferocious a barred owl can be.

Being a relatively plain owl, it is its call more than its appearance that is attractive. Owlithologists (I had to tell my spell checker that I made that up) have identified 10 different calls they can associate with 10 identifiable purposes. That’s language, of sorts. Their calls have been variously described as barking (I have mistaken their call as being from a dog), crackling and gurgling; as wails, whines and squeals; as caterwauling, hooting and cawing; and as maniacal laughter.

Its most entertaining call is a two-phrase, nine-note hoot that clearly enunciates, “Who cooks for you, who cooks for you all.” Recall that originally it was a species of the Southeast.

What really makes this owl remarkable, however, is the trek it has made in recent history. Early in the 20th century, the barred owl was a species strictly of the East. In 1932 it was first reported in Alberta. In 1943 it was first seen in British Columbia. From there it moved into northeastern Washington in 1965, North Idaho in 1968, Western Washington in 1973, northeastern Oregon in 1974 (seen in 706 different Oregon locations by 1998), northwestern California in 1981, and to just north of San Francisco Bay by 2002. During the previous 200-plus years the barred owl had suffered a large population decrease due to habitat loss in its original range.

This is a range expansion to rival those of the introduced house sparrow and European starling, but without direct initiation by humans. The big biological question concerns how the owl suddenly found it possible to move across the Canadian boreal forests where previously it had been prevented. Some researchers suspect that it was at least indirectly anthropogenic – caused by humans (my spell checker still doesn’t believe I didn’t make that one up) – possibly due to fire suppression and the resultant older and better nesting trees.

Regardless, it has been a marvel to all except the northern spotted owl. You see, the barred owl and the northern spotted owl are kissin’ cousins. They are closely related enough that as their populations have come together, it is seen that they compete for the same nesting and foraging resources. The problem for the northern spotted owl is that the barred owl does it better and has been displacing the former from many areas in the Northwest.

Also, they are so closely related that they have no problems interbreeding. So, if a barred doesn’t kill a spotted, it may mate with it. And the offspring, which look like a mix of the parents, are also fertile. In fact, if “sparred” owls breed back to a pure owl, they produce owlets that as adults are indistinguishable from one or the other of the two species.

According to the biological definition of a species, this can’t happen. But since owls don’t take biology, they do it anyway. To accommodate, some biologists are calling the two owls a super species. Again, however, the spotted owl doesn’t think it’s so super, the barred owl being more adaptable and more competitive than it.

So here’s the dilemma. What if the barred owl accomplishes what the loggers could not, and starts pushing the spotted owl over the edge? There are some who favor going out and “thinning” the barred population in areas where spotteds are at risk. Others don’t want to interfere with a purely natural example of survival of the fittest. In the meantime, what do we do with the old-growth forests?

All these questions will remain in the realm of the politicians, the lobbyists and the wildlife managers. When you get away from all those groups, don’t you see how truly mystical the owls are? Wondrous biological processes, thank God, go on despite the abundance of anthropogenic interference.