Why owls are all-time favourites

All of these were lorded over by the resident flock of peafowl, the cocks displaying magnificently and the hens proudly teaching their chicks how to raid your garden without being detected. And most of the above were kept on their toes by the shikra, that fierce little hawk, whose ringing ‘ki-kee’ hunting cry rang through the trees causing a lot of avian fluster. One bird however appears to have gone for good: no longer do I hear the cheerful ‘pateela! pateela! pateela!’ calls of the grey francolin (partridge); they used to march in wavy lines, around the tombstones, climb on top of one and yell their heads off.

So, I became a little concerned when I realised that till late I had not seen nor heard anything from, one of my all-time favourites – the spotted owlet. Had some terrible fate befallen them? Had the monkeys driven them away? Even last winter (which is when they breed) they kept a low profile. They are dumpy little birds (around myna-sized), dressed in grey-brown, with a talcum-powder dusting of white on their round heads. Their enormous forward-facing eyes are golden-yellow, and gaze at you unwaveringly. If there’s one bird that I would like on my shoulder (provided it doesn’t take my ear off), it would be the spotted owlet. (Of course it would be free to come and go as it pleased!) Spotted owlets can screw their heads right around and look at you over their shoulders, all of 270 degrees, which would be so useful to us!

They are masterful hunters. I remember watching one emerge from a neem tree at twilight, and fly straight up, and unerringly take down a fast, flickering bat, before disappearing into the tree again. Now bats, with their sophisticated radar are not the easiest of prey to catch on the wing, but this one had no chance. Perhaps it was because the owlet swooped up from behind and below, while the bat’s radar squeaks are emitted from its front end – its mouth.

Obviously aware of its hunting skills, other diurnal birds, like babblers and mynas will harry and heckle an owlet if they spot one forcing it to spend the day indoors – in its hole or hollow – which is why owlets usually only emerge at dusk or before dawn. It’s said that if you knock politely, on the trunk of a tree housing an owlet, it will come to the door and check if you are delivering the bandicoot it ordered from Amazon… So if you must knock on its door, do take a dead bandicoot along!

Apart from small birds and rodents, it dines off insects, frogs and lizards, and suchlike fare. Owlets even might deign to spend the day outdoors if it is overcast. On one such day, years ago, a spotted owlet spent the entire day in front of my bedroom balcony, on a ( now long dead) Persian lilac tree and allowed me to get to hand-shaking distance from it. It bobbed its head comically from side to side as if not believing what it was seeing before it finally left around 7 pm, and I wonder what it might have told its partner that night!

‘There was this paparazzi guy, eyeballing me all day. All he did was to take pictures! No, I most certainly did not flirt with him!’

On a trip to the Gir a few years ago, I remember keeping more of a lookout for owlets rather than for lions! And they did not disappoint. Every morning we would find a couple, or small family, sitting outside their home, gilded by the sun, and doing what owlets do best: cuddling and smooching! Surely a wonderful way to begin one’s day, or for that matter to end it, and a lesson for all of us!

So, you can understand why I got a little concerned by the AWOL behaviour of the owlets next door. Until recently, when I heard their querulous chittering again. This morning while on my way to the pool, I heard them again, from pretty close by and they seemed to be in good form. Hopefully, they will breed this winter (between February and April) as they have been doing here for so many generations.