When An Owl Isn’t An Owl …

I am almost 53 years old, and have spent nearly every day of that time on or near one mountain or another, or at the very least, in some sort of wooded area. I grew up in the foothills of the Blue Ridge, and now spend most of my time in the forested regions of Central Virginia. And in all that time, I’ve had very few encounters with owls.

Sure, I’d hear the iconic call of a Great Horned Owl on occasion, and every once in a while, the strange (and sometimes downright maniacal) vocalizations of a Barred Owl. By far, the most action I’ve ever had was with screech owls, and that’s mainly because my mom hit one with a car when I was in my 20’s and we helped to rehabilitate it and then released it into the woods behind the house. He and I spent many nights talking – exchanging long, falling, ghostly whistles with one another amongst the eerie silhouettes of the moonlit trees.

I have always liked owls, mainly for the archetypal sense of mystery and magic that surrounds them, and I was always enamored with the myths and legends which say that owls portend death (it turns out that the main reason for this was because many native tribes mimicked the hoot of owls to signal an attack on their enemies, and not necessarily because owls are the feathered version of the grim reaper), but that was about as far as my “owl as symbolism” explorations went.

A number of years ago, I stumbled upon the fact that there seemed to be a connection between owls and “alien abductions” – it seemed as though some abductees reported very large owls (like 4′ tall) in strange places (like their bedroom), and in time, either through hypnosis or just simply remembering the events, they realized that the owls were actually Extraterrestrials (usually the ones commonly known as “The Greys”). Since discovering this, I have researched it from time to time because I find it fascinating, but despite the fact that I spend countless hours alone in the dark inviting contact, I hadn’t had any strange “owl encounters” of my own.

Until recently, that is.

However, my experiences haven’t involved anything so dramatic as human-sized owls staring in my windows or creeping into my room. In fact, my story is rather tame when compared with reports of this nature. But it’s odd, just the same. It also doesn’t involve the traditional element of seeing “The Greys”, but instead incorporates events which are supportive of Sasquatch (Sabe) activity – tree knocking, “whoops” and howls, strange chatter, and even a moment of video which shows a large being ducking away from the infrared light of my camera. There has also been “gifting activity”.

All of this initially started in a wooded location about a half hour from my home, but then it began happening around my house.

I’m not actually seeing owls, but I’m hearing them. And there’s something not right about the vocalizations.

Any of you who have heard a human attempt to mimic an animal sound – even if the imitator is very, very good at it – will understand what I am talking about. You can tell that the call is supposed to be the caw of a crow or the howl of a wolf or the gobble of a turkey, or what have you – in fact, it may be pretty much a dead ringer for the sound, but there is still something “off” about it which tells you “this is the sound of a coyote, but it isn’t being made by a coyote”. This is what I’m currently experiencing with the owls – I know it’s SUPPOSED to be an owl call, but it ain’t.

This started at exactly the same time as my odd experiences in July and August of this year, which are explained in “The Bigfoot Project – An Introduction”.

The Bigfoot Project – An Introduction

Coincidence? Maybe, but my inclination is to say “probably not”, especially since I am now hearing the “owl that’s not an owl” sounds every single time I go out to visit the Big People. The owl mimicry is usually focused on one species – the Barred Owl. Makes me wonder if this is because the vocalizations of Barred Owls is extremely varied and downright bizarre at times. Their classic call is comprised of 9-syllables that is usually described as “who cooks for you, who cooks for you-all”, but they will also get together and hoot like monkeys and can also sound like dogs barking, among other things.

So given this amazing array of sounds, it stands to reason that they would be a prime candidate for mimicry, because so long as the individual doing the mimicking was able to get the tonality correct, those hearing it would be hard pressed to say with any definitiveness that it WASN’T a Barred Owl due to the simple fact that these birds can make such a wide variety of strange sounds. A great example is the video below – the TONE of the vocalization is very much like that of a Barred Owl, but the actual call is not.

There’s another odd thing that’s also occurring regularly – diurnal (daytime) bird sounds at night. And again, while they are obviously supposed to sound like a normal bird, they’re just “not right”. I most often hear the screams of Blue Jays, but will also hear other songbirds, such as Cardinals.

During my daytime forays into the woods, when I experience wood knocks, footsteps, or catch the glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye, the local population of Jays will almost always show up, raising all kinds of hell while the activity is present.

Most recently, a few days ago while I was out doing some dowsing and “talking” to the elements of the forest, it sounded as though something huge fell out of the sky and landed on the ground about 100′ from me.

I was in a heavily wooded area – if the top had fallen out of a tree, it would have crashed it’s way to the ground. There was no sound of it actually falling, it just hit with a force that vibrated the ground beneath my feet. As soon as this happened, the Jays converged, screaming so loud that I couldn’t hear anything else.

I grabbed my camera and slowly walked toward where the sound came from, expecting to find some huge piece of wood freshly fallen to the forest floor. But there was nothing there. NOTHING.

The fact that the Jays show up so frequently when there is “activity” during the day makes me wonder of that’s why they’re being mimicked at night.

The other REALLY odd sound at night occurs only around my home – never in the woods around Sabe Field or any other places (at least not yet). It’s a whistle that is obviously supposed to sound like a bird, but it isn’t identifiable as any local species. It’s a very long, falling call that is fairly loud, and is sometimes punctuated with a series of staccato sounds at the end. It reminds me a little of a Peacock.

So all of this makes me wonder – are they communicating with me or each other? Given my interest, I (of course) would prefer to think that at least some of the time they are “talking” to me, especially since they hang around my house more nights than not. So – I talk back. I say hello, I return their whistles, and I mimic their mimicry of the Barred Owls. Sometimes it seems as though we are actually conversing, but that could just be wishful thinking on my part – for all I know, they’re laughing their asses off at my antics. 😉

One Comment on “When An Owl Isn’t An Owl …

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