Owls in the Village by Ben Porchuk With their large, round eyes piercing the night, nearly full head rotation, and the uncanny ability to fly in utter silence, owls are nature’s enigmatic aerial predators of the dark. Their haunting, breathtaking calls seem to echo wisdom itself, leaving us awestruck by their presence. Here in Wortley Village, nestled between the Thames River and the Coves, at least five species of owls have been spotted by local residents. Late last fall, I was repeatedly drawn outside by the iconic “Who-who, who-who-who” of a Great Horned Owl calling from the backyard trees east of Brighton Street and south of Bruce Street. This majestic predator, immortalized in my memory – and in my kitchen – alongside a photo of it clutching a mouse (a story for another day), reminded me of how intertwined these beings are with our daily lives. A few winters ago, a friend stood in awe at the Coves, transfixed by the rare visit of a Snowy Owl from the Arctic, its pristine white and black spotted feathers gleaming against the winter landscape. Other visitors to the area include the diminutive Northern Saw-whet Owl, the secretive Long-eared Owl, and the Barred Owl, with a few other species making rare appearances.
One afternoon, we witnessed something extraordinary. An owlet crash-landed on our lawn in broad daylight. Concerned, I grabbed binoculars to observe more closely. To my astonishment, this wasn’t an accident – it was a lesson. One of the parents had swooped down to assist, demonstrating how to hunt for food in the middle of the day. The yard, teeming with tiny toads freshly metamorphosed from tadpoles, became a training ground for the young owl’s survival skills. It was a rare glimpse into their world, a moment of nature’s intricate design playing out before us.
Among them, one owl stands out as Wortley’s most consistent resident: the Eastern Screech Owl. These small yet abundant creatures remain here year-round, and each winter and spring, a handful of fortunate households witness pairs nesting in their backyards – a testament to the charm of life in the village. One memorable year, we were among the lucky ones on Elmwood Avenue East. A battered, non-native Weeping Willow in our yard, broken by a windstorm, was on the verge of being cut down. Chainsaw in hand, I prepared to act when my wife called from the window, “You can’t cut that tree down! I love willows!” I hesitated and stepped back to assess the tree’s condition – and there it was: a tuft of feathers poking from a hole about 15 feet up. “My gosh, that’s a Screech Owl!” I shouted, overwhelmed with excitement. My wife shook her head knowingly and closed the window, content in the shared understanding that this tree, battered as it was, had become a lifeline. For the next few months, our backyard transformed into a front- row theatre of nature. The owls raised their young before our eyes, seemingly unfazed by our presence. We watched them hunt, drink from our pond, and sit motionless, their camouflage blending seamlessly into the daylight. Sometimes, while sipping coffee on our second-floor deck, the young owlets would perch on the railing, finding safety with the towering White Cedar at their backs.
Page 8 Wortley Villager • Jan-Feb 2025
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