Personal wildlife field work experiences

Alone—In the Forest—At Night

Alone, deep in a pitch-black forest at night. Did I mention—alone? At night?
Every summer, U.S. Forest Service wildlife technicians and I, the district biologist, surveyed for endangered spotted owls. Because owls are nocturnal, it makes sense to try to find them at night.

One evening, the wildlife tech was ill so I went into the forest at night alone. It's safer to go with someone. Did I mention—alone—at night—in the forest?

I drove the Forest Service truck forty-five minutes from town deep into the mountainous woods of central Oregon. Around midnight, I arrived in the middle of the thick coniferous fir forest. I stopped, turned the truck headlights off, and got out of the safety of the truck's cab. Despite the full moon, I should have left the headlights or cab lights on. Thinking back, it reminds me that it's not wise to climb into a Narnia wardrobe and shut the door all the way. It might be hard to find your way back.

To find spotted owls you call them by imitating their "hoo" sound. If they are there, they will hoot back, thinking you are another owl invading its territory.
Try hooting the words, "Who cooks—for you?" and, as silly as that sounds, they may hoot back, "Hoo-hoo—hoo-hoo."
As I said, it was near midnight. I hooted.
Within minutes, a spotted owl hooted back.
Carefully, I crept to the edge of the dirt road facing the almost solid wall of old growth forest.

I hooted again.

He hooted back. The sound was louder. He was flying closer!

The thought of seeing a seldom seen owl made be braver (or stupider.) I strode away from the truck and into the woods trying not to trip over bushes and fallen logs. Sure, I had a flashlight but kept if off. Didn't want to scare away the owl.

I hooted.

He hooted.

A mature fir and pine tree forest is beautiful in the day. Sunlight filters through the lush and lacy branches. A crisp fragrance fills the air.

The forest at night is beautiful too in its own way, but tonight, I don't feel the romanticism. Now, almost blind under the dense canopy, the smell of decaying pine needles assaults my senses.

I really want to see the bird in the flashlight. I glance back once at outline of the truck in the moonlight.

The owl hoots. The noise fills my ears. Drawing me in. I travel farther through the dark, thick forest. Overhead I hear a faint whoosh as a large bird flies in and perches on a Douglas fir branch above my head.

Now the owl is really hooting. I'm definitely in his territory. And he didn't like it one bit!

I hold my breath and squint through the darkness at his oval shaped silhouette before lighting the flashlight. This was the closest I've ever been to this magnificent nighttime hunter. In awe, I walk slowly around the tree's truck.

Suddenly, off to my right, a branch snaps. A dry branch, not on a tree, but on the ground where something could step on it. A big, dry branch. A bear? A mountain lion? I was alone in the woods at night. What was I thinking?!

I bolted. Where was the truck?

In a miracle, moonlight glints off a windshield. How I didn't trip and fall flat on my face as I ran, I'll never know. I jump into the truck and roar away.

Minutes later, my heart still pounding, I had to stop. I had to get out of the truck. I had to complete my mission and call owls in the habitat of the scheduled route. Their survival may depend on my work. I stayed within five-feet of the truck the rest of the night.

The next evening, I was very glad to have an assistant, someone brave like Evan and Rachel, for safety, to watch each others' backs, and to watch were we'd parked the truck!