A visual journal exploring the birds of Inwood and Northern Manhattan by Teri Tynes

The Little Owl in the Blue Hour

A special post for Superb Owl Sunday

On the early mornings of February 8 and 9, I observed the Eastern Screech-Owl poke its head out of its crevice home in the Clove of Inwood Hill Park. I had been waiting a long time for its return, and I often visited the site but left with nothing to show. I pushed my own limits for patient waiting, frequently imagining an owl in the crevice that wasn’t even there.

Eastern Screech-Owl. February 8, 2024. 6:54 a.m.

Waiting in hope made me see imaginary owls. The small round crevice in the tree where the owl resides is full of ragged reddish bark, and from certain angles, the shape of the wood resembles an owl. The tree is set back from the trail, and the crevice is high up on the main trunk. More than one birdwatcher would speculate that the owl in question was a red morph. I didn’t know for certain until the early morning of February 8 that an owl was even there. 

Eastern Screech-Owl. February 8, 2024. 6:54 a.m.

I set out for a walk to the park in the predawn hour, as the blue hour met the final moments of civil twilight.

Eastern Screech-Owl. February 8, 2024. 6:57 a.m.

Owls are nocturnal, and the moment of dawn on February 8 would arrive at 7 am. I wanted to increase my chances of seeing it by arriving before the sun appeared. And, yes, finally, and most certainly, the owl appeared at the crevice opening to reveal its supernatural and mystical little self. I remained watching it in the murky morning light. At 7 am, the moment of dawn, it closed its eyes and retreated.

Eastern Screech-Owl. February 8, 2024. 7 a.m. The dawn breaks. The owl closes its eyes before withdrawing.

The next morning, I returned to the Clove. I set out even earlier at a time I do not recommend to anyone. The quality of light before dawn, however, was worth the early rising. The park at that time is still lit by lampposts, lending the salt marsh and the forest a fairytale quality. As moments passed, the sky turned a brilliant pink. 

February 9, 2024. View of the athletic fields in Inwood Hill Park and morning sky from the entrance to the Clove. February 9, 2024. 6:46 a.m.

The owl was there again in its tree in the Clove. It seemed to cast its gaze on the colors of the sunrise. At 7:15 a.m., the sun was up, and the mystical sky had vanished. Shortly after sunrise, the owl closed its eyes. Then it, too, disappeared.

Eastern Screech-Owl. February 9, 2024. 7:11 a.m.

See a previous post, The Office Hours of an Eastern Screech-Owl, for more about this owl. 

Eastern Screech-Owl. February 9, 2024. 7:15 a.m.

In its forest home, the owl faces east and can always track the sunrise. Previous sightings indicate the owl can be active and observable at later hours in the day. You do not need to be a morning lark to observe this little owl, but you may need to possess persistence or a little luck. As E. B. White said of New York, “No one should come to New York to live unless he is willing to be lucky.”

Cover: Eastern Screech-Owl in the Clove of Inwood Hill Park. February 8, 2024. 6:54 a.m.

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