Screech Owls

Sometimes the best laid plans work too well.

The Screech Owl- Scientific name: Megascops asio. We had many of these smaller owls in our neighborhood. The first 30 years of my life I lived in a house close to the main railroad tracks which stretched from Vancouver, B.C. down the west coast of the United States. We had so many trains travel by daily that we didn’t even notice the noise anymore. The tracks followed the top of a cliff which dropped 100+ feet down to Bellingham Bay. The sides of the cliff had layers of sand and clay. During the summer months, the Angel boys across the street (Craig and Doug) and my brother and I would spend endless hours climbing the cliffs, jumping from the cliffs, and using trails on the cliffs as the shortest distance to travel to explore the beach itself.

It was on the sides of the cliff, toward the top that the screech owls would carve out holes inaccessible to predators and build their nests to raise their young. The birds were never out in the daylight but at dusk and dark you could see them fly back and forth along the top of the cliff looking for rodents to carry back to their nests. Some nights we would lie on our sleeping bags in the tall grass on the cliff edge when it was too hot to sleep in our houses. We would stare at the stars when suddenly, a flash of wings would flutter over our heads and an owl would let out its haunting call, “screech!” Eventually, we would all fall asleep only to be awakened by the midnight train to Seattle on the tracks a mere 30’ away.

Then one day, just by chance, I was watching Mr. Angel wash his car on his driveway. On his hand he wore a large white fluffy wash mitten.

“You know Craig,” I said, “It looks like your dad is washing his car with a rabbit.”

Just then a light bulb went on in my head (or it could have been that my blood sugar was low). I bet we could trick a Screech Owl into thinking that the mitten is a rabbit. I told Craig the idea which he thought was brilliant as long as I wore the glove. We were giddy with excitement knowing that in a few short hours the sun would be setting and we could try out our plan.

Evening came and you couldn’t have asked for a better setting; there was a fairly strong breeze blowing up the cliff from the bay which caused the brush on the cliff edge to move in all directions. The moon was out but mostly obscured by clouds so it was hard to see any distance. All of us boys had changed into dark clothing and had covered our faces. We then went to the cliff edge and laid on our backs in the three-foot-tall stickery brush. I wore the mitt on my right hand. It was lying in plain sight on my chest at the ready to be turned into a rabbit puppet. We could hear the owls screech along the length of the cliff. We could also hear, not more than a quarter mile away, the sound of a BNSF freight train coming towards us. We lay 20 feet from the tracks and 10 feet from the edge of the cliff.

And then it happened. In the broken light of the moon we saw the flash of wings go over our heads and heard the loud, high pitched screech from an owl. All the boys saw it. I immediately began to move the white fluffy glove around on my chest to make it appear like a rabbit. The train was now about 400 yards away heading toward us travelling 40 mph. The lights on the Cliffside Drive crossing we’re flashing, the arms had dropped and the owl had spotted the mitten. It made two large flying circles over my head as he tried to figure out the best approach for the kill. I kept working the mitt to imitate a rabbit. The ground was rumbling and shaking like a category 6 earthquake from the heavy 150 car freight train nearly upon us and then as the engineer blew the multi-engine train whistles for the crossing, the owl made his approach. His wings flared, his legs extended, and his talons spread wide as he was diving for the mitten.

Now, two things may or may not have happened next: first, the guy wearing the mitt may have wet himself a bit. He may have squealed like a little girl as he shouted, “Holy Cripes it’s going to kill me!” as he jumped up waving his arms over his head. Second, we may have heard the owl screech, “Holy Cripes that is the biggest rabbit I’ve ever seen,” as he hit his reverse thrusters scattering feathers all over the cliff edge.

I really see no purpose in continuing on with this story except to say that boys need the right to explore, to see what works and what doesn’t. It’s called creativity. I must insert a caveat here though; if you are planning anything which may turn out to be scary, go to the bathroom first.

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