Shadowing an owl whisperer

When I pitched this article, I had a preconceived notion of what it would be. I had visions of hiking deep into the forest in search of remote owls. I’ve seen owls over the years, but infrequently. Based on my own experience, I assumed my limited interactions were due to scarcity. In actuality, it’s more of an “it’s not you, it’s me” sort of situation. 

I can be a little hyper, and while I love being out in nature, I’m usually on the go, not stopping to … well, look at the birds. In other words, I don’t look up enough. While I occasionally crane my neck to see the rustling of branches or a squirrel chattering at me, most of the time I’m focused on my footing. Well, not anymore. I might stumble more frequently, but after this experience, I will spend more time scanning trees for what I learned is an abundance of owls.

I met Matt Vann through a mutual photographer friend of mine. As we were all chatting, Vann pulled out his phone and shared some of his pictures. Vann is an outdoor photographer who mostly does wildlife but also shares landscape pictures on Instagram @photothatmatt. 

I was blown away by his shots, which captured our region with a moody flair. The pictures that captivated me, and are what he is best known for, were of owls. These weren’t just photos of owls; they were portraits — with the wild subjects often looking at me as if they knew me. As soon as I saw those pictures, I wanted to be a part of the process of capturing these images and spending time with these creatures. Fortunately, Vann was open to the idea. After pitching, waiting for the right time of year, and aligning our schedules, we were ready to meet up.

I was ready to go tromping through Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest in search of owls. When he suggested we meet at Cornwall Park in Bellingham, I was surprised but open to whatever might come. We met up on a weekday evening, and Vann began educating me. He showed me whitewashed trees, otherwise known as trees covered in owl poop. 

They are a surefire sign that owls are in the area. 

It was funny learning what that whitewash represented because, as someone who has spent an exorbitant amount of time wandering around the woods, the image was completely familiar, yet I had never thought much about it as a sign of owls. He then led me up a path and showed me another whitewashed area that also included owl pellets. These regurgitated pods of bones and fur will take some people back to their time in science class, exploring the diet of an owl. The bones were obvious, and without dissecting, Vann informed me that these pellets were most likely the remains of rabbits.

Vann knows this because he isn’t just showing up and taking a few pictures before moving on to something else. He takes the time to truly observe the owls. He learns their patterns, personalities and diets. On a different night, Vann witnessed a feeding, which is how he knew that rabbit was on the menu. 

Due to the time he spends with the owls, he has come to know where to find them, not just their general location, but at what height they like to sit in a specific tree. He has learned their calls, and the calls of other birds when they are in the area. For example, robins have a specific call when a predator is around, which in our area is often an owl. Combine that call with some whitewash, and you know you are getting close.

He then took me up another short trail before stopping and pointing to a tree. I was lost, unable to discern anything but trees and more trees. He pointed again and described more specifically where to look, and sure enough, I spotted her. There was mom sitting on a limb, tight to the trunk of a fir tree. Had Vann not pointed her out, there is no way I would have spotted her. I have spent countless hours in Cornwall Park playing disc golf, tennis, pickleball and coaching cross-country meets, and I have never seen an owl. I’m sure they have seen me.

I say “mom” when describing the owl because Vann knows this is the matriarch of this great horned owl family. He has been observing this family for weeks since the owlets were born. He has learned their routines, served as their protector and documented them. 

The protector phase came when one of the owlets took a liking to being on the ground. It is not uncommon for an owlet to end up on the ground, but one of this set of twins took a particular liking to it and was spending a lot of time on the ground, which can be dangerous. One evening, a pair of dogs was heading up the trail, guiding their humans when they approached near the base of a tree, where the owlet was hanging out. 

Nervous that something horrible was about to occur, Vann positioned himself between the dogs and the tree in hopes that they wouldn’t notice. Fortunately, the hounds did not, and the owlet has now created a safer pattern, spending its time back in the trees.

After snapping some pictures of mom with my inadequate lens, Vann directed my attention to where she was looking. She wasn’t just passively sitting around; she was keeping an eye on her twin youngsters. It is common for great horned owls to raise one to three owlets per season. 

Again, it took me a moment to spot them, but sure enough, in separate trees I saw the two adorable fur balls, well, I guess feather balls, taking in the scene. They looked like they must be the softest things in the world. Even at this young age, I could easily make out their disproportionately large eyes gazing out into the world, training their senses for when they move away from mom and must hunt on their own.

As we went back and forth, looking for different angles to see mom and the twins, Vann froze and then pointed behind us, saying he had just heard dad. I was impressed but skeptical. All I could hear was a blend of random chirps and the strike of pickleballs from across the park. Even though I wasn’t convinced, Vann was. 

He knew these owls, and they knew him. Mom was not threatened by him; she just observed us as we observed her. She didn’t clap her beak, a sign to back off, and at no point did she show an inkling of attacking, which owls are known to do. Vann also knew that it was not uncommon for this particular father to be a little aloof. He was around and helped with feeding, but he wasn’t the most conscientious father. He was often gallivanting around without keeping an eye on his kids.

As we spent our time with the owls, I learned that there was a community of people who shared the enjoyment of watching these owls. Some were part of the photography community, others simply on their regular walk through the park. 

Obviously more observant than I am, they take their time scanning the trees and find pleasure in seeing the owl family go about their life. One of these people mentioned that they had seen another owl in the direction Vann had said the father was. We walked that way, maybe 50 yards, and sure enough, there was dad looking in the opposite direction of his kids, seemingly without a care in the world.

With light waning, we decided to call it an evening. Just as we were entering our cars, Matt paused our goodbyes to have us listen. The adult owls were talking to each other, or maybe, saying “see you later” to us. 

My time in the woods will be forever changed as I will now keep an eye out for whitewash and spend more time looking up. In fact, I have now gone out every day since trying to find owls on my own. With what Vann the owl whisperer taught me, I found whitewash and some pellets that, to my unknowledgeable eye, contained a mouse skull. I hope these are signs that I will soon find some owls on my own to observe and maybe even get to know, as Vann has with the different families he observes.

If this article inspires you to find some owls, or any wildlife for that matter, please remember to keep your distance. This is for their sake, as we want to keep them safe, but also for yours. Owls are territorial and have been known to attack humans, so keep your distance, get a good pair of binoculars or an adequate camera lens, and enjoy these incredible creatures from a safe distance.    X