The owl species most common in Sai Kung is the collared scops owl. It’s small, up to 25 cm in height, and has a distinctive appearance: prominent head tufts, orange-brown eyes, pale yellow bill, mottled grey-brown upperparts, streaked underparts, and a distinct buff neckband.
You may see the scops owl in shrubland or wooded areas near streams. Usually you will hear this bird but not see it. “Whooo,” a soft single note downward-inflected, repeated every few seconds. This is a territorial and mating call at night during the breeding season. Courtship involves coordinated vocal duets and rhythmic beak clicking. Males do their single mellow note and females reply with a high-pitched mewing call. When breeding is about to begin the couple will find a cavity in a tree where the female will lay two to five glossy white eggs. She will handle all the incubation duty by herself for up to 26 days while the male brings her, and later the chicks, food. Their diet is insects, beetles, moths, mice, frogs and small birds.
In literature owls are both celebrated and vilified. AA Milne’s Owl is comically pompous, offering convoluted advice and long-winded lectures gently satirising self-important intellectualism. Rabbit said he respects Owl “because you have to respect somebody who can spell TUESDAY even if he doesn’t spell it right.” “And if anyone knows anything about anything,” said Bear. “It’s Owl who knows something about something.” To the Greeks the owl was an emblem of intellect, philosophy and learning. But Shakespeare took a dark view of owls, seeing them as omens of murder and misfortune. Hearing the bird just before the murder of King Duncan, Lady Macbeth calls it “a fatal bellman” foretelling a grim “good night”.
In his charming book, My Family and Other Animals, Gerald Durrell writes about a scops owl. He finds the little bird in a tree hole and takes it home, where Gerald decides to call it Ulysses and introduces it to his dog Roger. “Although Ulysses would have fitted comfortably into a teacup, he showed no fear and would unhesitatingly attack anything and everyone, regardless of size.” Gerald encouraged Roger to be friendly to Ulysses. The dog was accustomed to the boy bringing home odd creatures. “Wagging his tail briskly, in an ingratiating manner, he approached Ulysses who squatted on the floor with anything but a friendly expression on his face.
He watched Roger’s approach with an unwinking stare of ferocity. Roger’s advance became less confident. Ulysses continued to stare as if trying to hypnotise the dog. Roger stopped, his ears drooped, his tail wagging only feebly, and he glanced at me for inspiration. Roger looked nervously at the owl and with nonchalance walked around him, in an effort to approach him from the back. Ulysses, however, let his head revolve too, and kept his eyes still fixed on the dog. Roger, never having seen a creature that could look behind itself without turning around, seemed a trifle nonplussed. After a moment’s thought he decided to try the skittish, let’s-have-a-jolly-game approach. He lay down on his stomach, put his head between his paws, and crept slowly towards the bird, whining gently and wagging his tail with abandon. Ulysses continued to look as if he was stuffed. Roger still progressing on his stomach, managed to get quite close, but then he made a big mistake. He pushed his woolly face forward and sniffed loudly and interestedly at the owl. Now Ulysses would stand a lot, but he was not going to be sniffed at by a mountainous dog in black curls. He decided to show this ungainly and wingless beast exactly where he got off. Ulysses lowered his eyelids, clicked his beak, hopped up into the air, and landed squarely on Roger’s muzzle, burying his razor-sharp claws into the black nose. Roger with a stricken yelp, shook the bird off and retired beneath the table. No amount of coaxing would get him to come out until Ulysses was safely back in his basket.”
Edward Lear in 1871:
The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea In a beautiful pea-green boat, They took some honey and plenty of money, Wrapped up in a five pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars and sang to a small guitar, “O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love, What a beautiful pussy you are . . .”
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