Winter is the quiet season. Compared with the rest of the year, there are relatively few natural sounds that greet us on our excursions through the fields and woodlands. Of course, exceptions do exist: the crunch of snow beneath our boots, the rattling of limbs in the winter wind, the rustling of dead oak leaves and the dreaded sound of sleet, coating our cars and walkways. The wild creatures chime in now and then: the howl of coyotes, the eerie bark of fox, the cheerful tune of chickadees, the drumming of woodpeckers and the raucous cries of jays and crows come to mind. But, for me, the voice of winter is the gruff call of the great horned owl.
Oblivious to the ice, snow and frigid air and well equipped to stalk the long, dark nights, this large and powerful predator symbolizes the harsh winter season and epitomizes the survival skills that it demands. Hidden from view for much of the day, great horned owls appear along wood borders in the gathering dusk, ready for a night of hunting. They have a distinct advantage during the barren months of winter, ensuring good health for their breeding season, which will commence by January.
Ominous to many, their deep, echoing hoots inspire those of us who appreciate the hardiness and stamina of our wild winter residents. It is understandable that mice, cottontails and other small mammals may not share that appreciation.
