AS A CHILD, I SAW owls as mystical beings that operated by night, were difficult to see at the best of times, and hung out in woodland locations far from the largely concrete surroundings of my home in London. And, of all Britain’s owls, there was none more secretive than the long-eared owl, affectionately abbreviated to ‘LEO’ by birders.
This medium-sized owl is indeed quite scarce, normally detected by a haunting, wavering hoot that emanates from the deepest, darkest corners of woods. Its owlets, meanwhile, are renowned for their squeaky-gate squeals when begging for food from their parents. I usually observed the youngsters as singletons roosting, mostly obscured within a thicket, staring blankly back at me.
About 20 years ago, Serbian ornithologist Milan Ružić realised that large numbers of long-eared…