Two nights ago, I went on an owl survey because I need the female from that pair to hoot once more. The protocol I follow states that in order to call a female a female (and therefore part of a "pair", an important designation for our records), she needs to hoot (you can sex Spotted Owls by their hoots. The female's hooting voice is higher than the male's. Both sexes whistle and bark and these vocalizations are unhelpful in determining sex.) twice at night or once during the day. This particular female had hooted once at night so far.
I arrived a little after 20:30 and was waiting for the darkness to fall more completely. I heard an owl contact whistle fairly close to me. This was not unusual, but nor was it what I had come for. I waited a bit longer, then began tape calling owl calls, a two-minute loop. I then waited in the silent dark for 10 minutes. Faintly, I could hear the male from the next drainage, hooting agitatedly. There was nothing from the owl which had been close by. I walked over to where the male was, and began voice calling. Instead of using the tape player and megaphone, I, personally, began imitating owl calls. My idea was to be further away from the owl I first heard (which was likely the female), so the distance and my voice (perhaps more real sounding than a crackly cassette tape) would reach her and incite her to hoot. Instead, the male came up the drainage to a tree right on the trail. I then heard a second owl contact whistling in that same tree. I just needed her to hoot once, just hoot so I could hear her higher pitched voice! I continued to voice call.
Suddenly, out of the corner of my left eye, I saw a blurry gray shape above my head hurtling out of the darkness towards me. I ducked, but she hit me with talons extended and with a force that was impressive for a 300g ball of feathers. I crouched on the ground and began yelling in my human voice, stopping my pretending of being an intruder owl, so she might get the idea that something was amiss, and wouldn't come down for a second strike! I then put my backpack over my head and scurried undignifiedly along the trail to where I felt it was safe again.
My heart was pounding, my forehead was scratched, and I just felt bad. Even though I was just doing my job, which is intended to monitor these birds for their continued survival and habitat conservation, it seemed to me that I had intruded on their lives tonight. I said a silent apology and hiked back to my car.
As I was leaving, I also realized I had been complimented. That owl thought I was a real owl. For better or for worse, I had entered another species' world for a brief glimpse of life as a Spotted Owl, fighting for turf in the Redwood forest. These owls aren't just cute cuddly animals that sit on a branch all day. They're that too, but they're also real individuals with real lives, and we really don't know or understand them much at all.