I will not use it. I am bound and determined to make it to the end of this essay without so much as touching it. It will not be easy, since this ingredient is measured and ready, just waiting for me to stir it in and serve up a tried-and-true fricassee of Barred Owl knowledge as passed on by generations of birders. Just about every American cook in the kitchen of ornithology uses this ingredient. The Audubon Society, David Sibley, National Geographic, Cornell Lab of Ornithology—no matter who cooks for you, you’re sure to find this ingredient added to the recipe of Barred Owl knowledge at one point or another.

But not in my recipe. I will have nothing of it. It’s too cliché, too predictable. I’m just a novice chef in the kitchen of ornithology and birding, and mine is a tiny trattoria, serving up ideas on a small square table covered in faded checkered cloth and set at the base of a large white oak tree. But there are moments when this novice puts his foot down and insists on breaking from the time worn, the usual. So, if you choose to sit at my humble table and allow me to be the one who cooks for you today, who can predict where this meal might lead?

Aperitivo
Pull up a chair. I know it’s only 4:00pm, and most owl lovers are at least five hours away from even thinking about where to sup. But this is the Barred Owl we are talking about. It’s never too early. The Barred Owl is often active even in the middle of the day, when all the other owls are perched in hiding. So as you sip your aperitivo be on the lookout for a silent shadow passing among the branches. In fact, there is a Barred Owl watching us right now from its favorite perch. No, I won’t say where. It will make its presence known soon enough. Enjoy your Campari.

Antipasto
I’m no owl whisperer, or anything like that. It’s just common sense. I’ve placed the table in this old-growth forest—an upper canopy of massive white oak, with smaller sugar maple competing for sun—because this is ideal territory for the Barred Owl, and I know that one makes its home here. I’ve heard and seen it often. And once a Barred Owl finds a locale it likes, with mature trees where it can build its nest in one of their hollows, and a healthy population of rodents and lizards and snakes, it will happily pass its entire life right there, all year long, year after year. You can count on it.

Aside from the destruction of its territory by fire or clearing, there is only one thing that will cause a Barred Owl to abandon its favorite haunts: the arrival of a Great Horned Owl. At a pound and a half, and with a wingspan of a yard and change, the Barred Owl is not a small bird, and it is a fierce defender of its territory and its nest against Cooper’s Hawks, raccoons, and other predators. But it is no match for the twice-as-heavy, three-times-as-ornery Great Horned Owl. If a Great Horned Owl moves into a Barred Owl’s territory, the Barred Owl will almost certainly decide to move away and set up shop elsewhere.

La Minestra
Fortunately for us, and for the local Barred Owl, there is no Great Horned Owl in this forest. (Do you want cheese in your minestrone?)

Ooo, don’t move. Put that spoon down gently. The Barred Owl has just flown. It had been in the sycamore behind you, tucked in the angle where that large branch meets the trunk. Now it’s right out in the open, on the lowest branch of that gnarly old white oak. Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. You see it, right? Oh, I love it. This is why slow meals were invented. Take your time, sit still, be quiet, and nature around you will show itself. That’s one of this Barred Owl’s favorite perches, and I expect it will sit there and preen a while. I’ll hold off on the main course, if you don’t mind, so we can watch this marvelous creature do maintenance on its feathers. (Eat your soup quietly. Don’t slurp.)

Il Secondo
I’ll bring the main plate now. The owl has been sitting there almost a half hour, and if this bird follows its usual routine, it will fidget and fuss for a few more minutes and then fly to a higher perch where it will start calling. There it goes. We’ll lose it in the dense branches, but don’t worry, you’ll hear it soon enough.

The Barred Owl has the quintessential owl call, the one most people think of when they think owl. Four sharp notes—Hoo-hoo-hoo-HOO!—followed by four more hoots with a trailing squeal at the end: Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-ah~~. It sounds like… it sounds like… well, it sounds just like how a Barred Owl is supposed to sound. Hoo-hoo-hoo-HOO!

And there it goes, almost on cue. I think it’s behind me, high up over my left shoulder somewhere, but it can be difficult to tell where the call is coming from, depending on which way the owl is facing when it calls. It will probably keep calling off and on for as long as it takes you to finish your saltimbocca. Take your time.

Formaggio e Dolce
The hooting has ceased, and as the sun sets the bugs are getting nasty, so let’s repair to the tent for dessert. Since there’s nothing to see now, between bites I invite you to listen, as the owl is doing. A mouse, or maybe a mole, is rustling nearby in the leaves. The bush crickets are katy-didding. In the nearby vernal pool the crayfish are emerging from their holes. You could hear them, too, if you were a Barred Owl. For the next several hours, this owl will swoop from its perch to ambush mouse, mole, katydid, snake, crayfish, flying squirrel. Anything up to the size of a rabbit—if it makes the slightest noise—adds itself to the Barred Owl’s menu. While the owl hunts, it might not hurt to catch a few winks.

Caffè
Well, that was nice while it lasted. It’s 2:00am, and we are startled awake by what sounds like a band of monkeys screeching and squealing right above out tent. If it weren’t for the occasional hoo-hoo mixed in among the clamor, you’d never guess this is the same Barred Owl we were watching earlier. It’s calling back and forth to its mate—both birds with bellies as full as ours and feeling good. We couldn’t chat above the din if we wanted to. Time for an espresso while we enjoy the concert. Have you ever been serenaded like this at the end of even the fanciest meal? I suggest we cap it off with a shot of grappa and then turn in for a few more hours of sleep. You’ll be surprised what interesting dreams those owl screeches will evoke. No need to set your alarm. When the sun rises, we’ll be wakened by a wholly different ensemble of birds to start our day.

Thank you for dining with me. I hope you enjoyed this serving of Barred Owl yore. Next time you come to this forest, come alone—to watch and listen. No food, no table, no birder chef blabbering in your ear. You’ll find that the forest will serve up a wonderful five-course meal, and it will be the Barred Owl who cooks for you. Buon appetito.

Dan's Feathursday Feature is a regular contribution to the COS blog featuring the thoughts, insights and photography of Chicago birder, Dan Lory on birds of the Chicago region.

Dan's Feathursday Feature: Barred Owl