Searching For Saw-whet: Banders Track Migratory Creatures Of The Night

Under a chandelier sky, their mating call lures them into nets fine as mist.

The brown and white feather balls with long wings and round faces are Northern saw-whet owls.

These creatures with staring eyes are no spotlight-seekers.

The mysteries of their migration may be no business of humans.

Still, Clair Mellinger, a biology teacher at Eastern Mennonite University, and others try to track the smallest owl in the East.

Mellinger spends many nights during fall migration at his banding station on a ridge at Highland Retreat camp in northwestern Rockingham County.

The station, one of few in Virginia, is beside Capon Run, which rushes above the wind.

But the saw-whet cry carries over wind and water.

The taped male mating call that sounds from two speakers on a hill beside Mellinger’s nets seems out of place in the woods.

It’s a monotonous, high-pitched beep some compare to the sound of a truck backing up.

In summer, owls perch in trees and make the call for hours.

"Strangely enough, female owls are attracted to it," Mellinger says.

On a recent night, his nets caught two female saw-whets, small enough to hold in a palm.

Mellinger frees the birds, which are docile with his handling. Then he carries them in white, cotton bags to the office to take measurements.

Banders around North America are doing the same thing.

Project Owlnet

Compared with other owls, little is known about saw-whets, the main migratory owl in the East.

Information from banding gives clues about the migration and population of the birds, common in eastern Canada’s boreal forests of spruce and fir and the northeastern United States.

Tracking the owls may bring attention to environmental problems, often reflected first in predators.

"Having a healthy environment means we have a healthy place to live. We want to have all the pieces in good health, and this is just another piece," says David Brinker, a wildlife ecologist in Maryland who started banding saw-whets in 1986.

His research broadened into Project Owlnet, a North American effort in which up to 10,000 saw-whets are banded each fall.

About 300,000 saw-whets are in North America, two-thirds of those in the United States.

Saw-whets, prevented by snow from finding prey in the North, have migrated as far as Florida, often through the Appalachians. Breeding has been recorded as far south as North Carolina’s mountains.

"The one thing we’re learning is how little we really do know," says Steve Huy of Maryland, who administers Project Owlnet’s Web site.

Even the origin of the bird’s name is not clear.

A theory is that the saw-whet’s cry resembles the sound of filing a saw.

Still a mystery.

But becoming less so.

Not Rare But Rarely Seen

One of Mellinger’s most important findings was that saw-whets aren’t rare in Virginia, as people had thought.

But they’re seen rarely.

Concealed by day, saw-whets roost in thick foliage, like cones in a pine tree.

When Mellinger started banding in 2000, only three sightings of saw-whets were recorded in Rockingham County.

He caught eight saw-whets in one net on one of his first nights.

"I had people coming out here I think in disbelief," recalls Mellinger, who has banded about 90 owls this fall and 265 total. "That’s why I’m out here. We’re learning new data."

Mellinger measures wings, beaks, weight, length, age, gender.

Most saw-whets are 8 inches long and weigh about 3 ounces, a bit heavier than a robin. Great horned owls weigh about 3 pounds.

Mellinger fastens on a leg a silver band that identifies the bird.

As he works, the saw-whets make popping sounds by opening and closing their curved beaks.

Maybe to act tough although they seem fearless.

"Most of these owls have never seen a human so they’ve never had a reason to develop a flight instinct," Brinker says.

The saw-whets close their eyes, catlike, when Mellinger strokes their heads with a taming touch.

‘They’re Cute’

The birds have a distinctive white Y between their eyes of unflinching alertness and a dilated look of bewilderment.

"I’m very fond of the little creatures. They’re easy to be fond of. They’re cute," Mellinger says.

He places the owls on a tree branch after he takes measurements.

Unlike the stirring wind and water, the birds sit motionless at first, possibly listening to the mating call that toots in the distance.

Then with velvety feathers that mask their flight sound, the saw-whets disappear in their night sky.

They’re off to prey on mice, shrews, small birds and insects and maybe elude the great horned and barred owls that hunt them.

Back to places still only they know.

Sure of where they’re going.

Contact Jessica Clarke at 574-6277 or jsclarke@dnronline.com