"It was the owl that shriek'd,
the fatal bellman
which gives the stern'st good night."

Macbeth, II, 2
William Shakespeare

The first time I ever heard the strangled shriek of a barn owl was while on a short visit to my uncle Jack and his sister Lizzie's farm in County Laois, Ireland. I was the tender age of nine and it was my first time away from Dublin. It was also the first time my brother and I ever visited a farm.

I remember it well. It was the month of October and Halloween was fast approaching. Under the twilight light, Uncle Jack walked my older brother Shay and I around his farm. The grass was already frosting over and it was great to walk over it and hear the sound of the ice being crunched by my rubber wellies. There were patches of fog that seemed to cling to the trees and hang over the fields like a spectre. The cows in the other felds seemed to appear and disappear in the fog. My uncle marched ahead with a stick and a torch which he had not turned on yet. He walked sure-footed. Jack was a tall, silent, lean man with great big hands.

Suddenly we heard a blood-curdling shriek.

I gripped my uncle's arm in alarm. He looked down at us and smiled. "Don't worry, 'tis not a banshee!"
I didn't know what a banshee was at the time but it sounded scary.
"Have you ever seen an owl?" he asked us.
"At the pictures," my brother Shay offered.
"I saw some in books but not in real life," I answered.
He pointed to an outbuilding with his stick.
"If we are a little quiet and patient we just might be lucky to see the white owl," said Jack.

W were well wrapped up and wore scarfs and woolly hats my aunt knitted and insisted we wear before we left the farm. My brother complained that his looked like a 'tea cosy'. He insisted he and I swap hats before he left as I was given one that looked more like a beret. I didn't mind because no one was looking and besides, it covered my ears. I felt very snug. We waited patiently but no sign of the owl. It was fun watching the cold air coming out from our mouths. Mimicking holding a cigarette, my brother pretended to smoke. The fun was interrupted by another ear-piercing shriek.

"It's coming out," whispered my uncle.

Then out of the fog a beautiful owl flew up along by the fences and circled over us like a white moth before entering into a narrow window in the outhouse. It was so exciting to see this amazing creature. We waited about for another hour. The owl flew out again and sat on the roof. My uncle shone his torch. He moved it up along the wall until it illuminated the owl.

The owl preened, swiveled its head listening for any different sounds. Then flapped away silently over the fields disappearing into the now thick fog.

"Well there you are boys! You've seen your first owl! Happy?"
"Yes! Very Happy!" we agreed.
"Now let's go home for some supper," said Uncle Jack.

Back into the warmth of the house with a blazing fire we went. We were greeted by my aunt who had sandwiches and cakes ready for us. We told her about seeing the owl. She was pleased for she had only ever seen it twice herself, though she heard it scream often enough.
"Just like a banshee," auntie Lizzie said.

"What's a banshee?" I asked.

My uncle Jack smiled, sipped his tea and stared into the roaring fire. Aunt Lizzie explained to us who the banshee was.
"She's a fairy woman," she whispered, as if she was divulging some important secret.
"Sometimes she's beautiful, sometimes she can be very ugly. And she's usually seen sitting and combing her long hair by the side of the road. She'll wail and this is a warning to the villagers of an impending death or other calamity that will soon befall them."

I loved to hear stories and so did my brother but this particular one certainly didn't help us get to sleep that evening in the old whistling farmhouse.

Don Conroy, Wildlife Artist.

To buy Don's novel "On Silent Wings" about an orphaned Barn Owl named Kos click here:

http://www.tarabookco.ie/bookshop/bookframe.htm?findword=on+silent+wings

To view a selection of Don's Irish Wildlife Art go to:

http://www.donconroy.com/gallery

Birdwatching is a wonderful way to pass the day. On a really good day hours can fly by as you scan around watching and spotting different birds and you can lose yourself in the activity.

Disclaimer: What happens in this cartoon rarely happens in real life.
http://www.donconroy.com/gallery/61/the-twitcher

Friday 9th February.

Don will guest in Derek Mooney's very popular afternoon radio programme.

Check out the latest episode of 'The Art of Don' on RTE 2 at 3.15pm today.

In today's episode Don and his friends draw the amazing Eagle Owl. One of Don's favourite birds which is often portrayed in TV and Film. In Disney's 'Winnie The Pooh' the eagle owl was portrayed in the character the owl.

A tale from Ancient Greece...

A long time ago Owls were the only birds who sang at night. After a hard day scratching for food, raising their young and general day-to-day toiling all the animals and birds of the land would gather round the massive oak trees and listen to the beautiful music of the owls.

Everyone agreed it was the most wonderful sound ever heard and animals and birds came from far and wide to listen. As news spread of the wonderful music, so did the egos of the owls increase.

One night the owls announced that they were so wonderful that they deserved to be paid for their performances. It was decided they would charge everyone for the pleasure of listening to their song. Annoyed though they were, the animals and birds agreed that the owls' music was worth paying for and each night brought treasures and sumptuous foods for the haughty owls.

Then something very strange happened.

On one particular night the owls were sitting on their branches, deliberately making their paying public wait, "We are owls! We perform when we are good and ready!" they told each other.

Suddenly beautiful music was heard.

The animals and birds were confused. This song was not the song of the owls. It was much sweeter and lighter and much more melodic.
But where did it come from?
The animals searched high and low until they found the author of the glorious music. It was none other than a nightingale.

The owls were astonished and in their own arrogant way cried "Who? Who? Who?". They couldn't believe that anyone would ever try and upstage them. And since that day the owls lost their gift of song and, like a stuck record, repeat the words "who?', "who?", "who?" over and over again.

But what about the owl who couldn't give a hoot? Now that's another story. To find out more go here...

http://donconroy.com/publications