A day of work begins at 4pm.
The characters on the owl crew ’07, affectionately nicknamed ‘hooters’, are trickling in to the crew house, the house that Lisa and Zac sleep in that serves as a jump off point.
Inevitably the afternoon gets underway with a casuall conversation then slowly picks up as sites are carefully selected and partners picked. Then with surprising speed we all get to our roles.
‘I’m driving, you’re navigating,’
‘You get the thermos, I’ll get the mice…’
‘Do you have fresh batteries both double and triple A? Replacements?’
‘What channel and group do we use on The King?’
‘When do we check in again?’
‘What is it we’re looking for?’
In the bustle memory sometime fails, so we double check our minds with the checklist by the door.
‘So… we clear the memory with the… right arrow on the SLM… press run|stop and walk away… that seems easy…’
We throw our gear in the vehicle and set off for the gas station…
‘Oops! I forgot to bring my sleeping bag… lets just run by the barracks before we head out.’
Peace…
We’re on the road. Just the two of us. Expectant. Excited. But Calm.
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Pretty good.’
‘How’d you feel this morning?’
‘Could have been better, BUT I drank a lot of water and I felt a lot better… I gotta watch out on Karaoke night man…’
(Laughs)
Small talk.
‘So we get on Big Creek north to 16 then west on 47… right?’
‘Yep… then look for 42N07 on the right.’
5pm, we are rolling through yellow fields, dry as sandpaper but cooling off after surviving the hot midday sun. The land all around seems to be collectively breathing out… sighing in relief as the fields are tickled with soft breezes… There is a relaxed almost smug contentedness rolling along these fields at 25mph waving to the horses and the people.
Then, inevitably, we begin to climb and the driver must pay strict attention to the road. Washboards, sharp curves, rocks, trees, speed, panoramic mountain views, in my case motorcycles and expeditions of lasso-ing excellence are all a driver’s worst enemy taking vast reserves of concentration to travel over, around, and remain focused on the road ahead
Occasionally, the passenger will grip the door. Without a sound, the driver knows to slow down.
6pm, Still 3 hours of daylight… we arrive at our first site. Look at the maps. Find nearby drainages. Find the best line of travel and good potential hoot points using the contour lines. The best points are where the sound travels the farthest.
Hike. The sun is trickeling in through the leaves. Big trees, diameters of 7 to 8 feet, Douglas Firs, Manzanita, Medrona, Ponderosa Pines. Take time to pick off the budding lime green nettles and bring in their aroma sloooowly… And, of course, hug a ponderosa and smell its exotic bark. It’s worth thinking about.
7 to 8:59pm, Dinner – Peanut Butter and Jelly, granola, goldfish, fruit loops, wa-sa-bi peas, bacon flavored almonds, carrots, yogurt pretzels, peach, juicy grapefruit, water. A splendid table as the sky molts from blue to banana yellow to orange, to pink, to rosy-red, to glow, fade to starry black. I suggest leaving those UVA-UVB sunglasses on, so you don’t have to turn away.
Glance at my watch, 9pm arrives, my partner having hooted a few times at a few different call points with no responses. We begin to make our exit. Maybe there’s an owl there but she doesn’t feel chatty.
Getting back to the car we re-examine the maps, drainages, contours, etc. However, this time we won’t go in. We’ll call from the road. Hairpin turns are especially good for this.
Driving to the selected spot we see that the road ahead is washed out. Impassable.
‘We’re gonna have to walk it’
15 minutes to the call point on a hairpin ¾ mile down the road.
I call. Hoot. “Hoo…” sounds like a cow birthing a car. My partner snickers nearly, but not quite, inaudibly from down the road. Clear my throat.
Try anew. The four note “Hoo (pause) HooHoo (pause) Hooooo…”
10pm and nothing going… Hoot once per minute for 12 minutes… My attention begins to wander. The sky was clear, the moon was full. The fog has moved in and the moon is now a glowing orb taking up an eight of the sky. The birds have long since ceased their chorus. Silence… pure and simple… Silence, so often unheard of… I’m no longer waiting for anything anymore: I am loving exactly where I am. Here, for this moment, the grass won’t get any greener.
11:30 about to leave the site. There are plenty of other sites that we could go to tonight and night-hoot. So we begin to hike out.
‘C’mon lets go’
Absolute silence is broken. Boot on gravel.
‘Wait’ Between steps I’m sure I heard it.
‘There!’ Pointing to the sound of a 4 note response… We separate, take separate bearings, and jot down UTM coordinates from our GPS units.
‘So looks like we are sleeping here tonight.’ We say with shared excitement and weary.
We fall asleep in our bags, under no cover except satellites, with the knowledge there’s an owl nearby consuming our thoughts.
4 to 5am, up and hiking into the site. We call and get a response from roughly the same bearing. How lucky!
We fly toward the hoot, maintaining our bearing. Running. Watching our steps when we get the chance.
Reporting to my partner on the radio using any of our many personal and group-endorsed ‘handles’(clutch, spock, roommate, tanner, you-mae-ging, boom-hog, bread-lady, sarcasm, hot-pants, java bean, JB, Rayma-cakes, mop, rushmore, mickey, diseased peta, mai-thai, cliffhanger, lat-long, widowmaker),
‘I’m directly under her at UTM 046…’
As we settle ourselves beneath her she watches us… Analyzing with her big black silver dollar eyes.
Now begins the most important part of our job. We are silent except for occasional radio communication. We are allowed to sing – But only in our heads.
15 minutes pass like 5… The owl seems to have relaxed and has let her heavy lids fall slowly… We take out our behaviour analysis sheets and set a time to begin. Sitting side by side now, me with binoculars and partner with pen, we begin.
‘head turn, sleeping… head turn, head turn, head turn… Awake, preening… (6 minutes) contact call… head turn…’ etc…
An hour of that passes, we’ve accomplished part of our goal.
We decide to separate to get a better angle on the bird’s business side, the more important side for us at this point.
Getting up, I step on a twig that snaps loudly. She stirs, watches me as I re-settle.
After a while she dismisses us as unimportant and proceeds to re-ignore us. She’s got crap to do. When that ‘to do’ becomes ‘done’ we got to work and collect it as though it were made of Ur235, bit by bit… Not the white urate – that’s useless to us – but the black gunk with the tapioca consistency.
Say goodbye and its back to the car, up the steep, slippery, slide-y hill that was so easy to go down. Back down 42N07, 47, 16, and Big Creek to the barracks… Each thoroughly taken with a powerful, emotional awareness of privilege.
