Boerne Star
A Hoot of a Time
By Craig Hensley, Texas Nature Trackers Biologist with Texas Parks & Wildlife Department
Immersing myself in nature for 50+ years has provided many amazing encounters of the wild kind. They don’t include wolves or bears or mountain lions – well there was that one – but I have enjoyed encounters with winged predators from hawks and eagles to dragons, damsels and robbers – flies that is. But it is a relationship I have built with one predator that stands above nearly everything else.
In 1975 or ’76 I was granted the opportunity to attend a nature camp at Springbrook Learning Center near Guthrie Center, Iowa. I was as excited to go as our dog Ally is to get a treat after a walk – in other words – beside myself with joy. That week introduced me to a world of naturalists and outdoor educators. Unbeknownst to me at the time, this would be the career path I follow to this day.
We built replicate bird nests to hide in the woods for a different kind of hide-and-seek, used various utensils to simulate the beaks of birds, sat in the snow with a bag beating the ground trying to attract a snipe, and on one night – an oh-so-cold one – attended an owl prowl.
Our target that night was the Great-horned Owl, though any owl would have sufficed. While our naturalist called for the owl over and over, I noticed he was wearing a hard hat. When asked why, he told the story of calling in an owl which dive-bombed him, leaving several talon tears on his scalp – I was mesmerized.
It was that occasion that led me to a life-long interest in calling owls. A college degree and marriage later I landed my first job as a naturalist – so too began my foray into owl calling.
Before I knew what I was doing, I vividly remember walking through Cass County Conservation Board’s Turkey Creek Education Area one dark night hoping to hear an owl. I got my wish. As I stood there, owls began calling – I was thrilled, until an other-worldly caterwauling descended on the dark woods. I went from thrilled to freaked out – okay scared. Safely back in my truck, I realized I had heard something special, but what? The next day I learned I had encountered a pair of Barred Owls, not the 10 or so I had thought at the time – I became a fan.
Fast forward to another college degree, two children and a couple of nature center jobs later, talking to Barred Owls began bearing fruit. “Who-cooks-for-you, who-cooks-for-you-alllll” I would call out over and over when suddenly, I don’t recall if it was in Missouri or Nebraska, they began calling back! The first time was as thrilling as the last, which occurred recently at the nature center.
For several years during my wife’s young nephew, Ethan’s, visits to Texas, we would head to Cibolo Creek to call up the owls that reside there. Each time we failed, Ethan thought he was a jinx. This year, he was ready to try but expected failure – again.
I explained that Barred Owls don’t call much during summer’s heat, so it wasn’t really his fault. I told him this year would be different – and so it was.
I began calling. First a “whoooo-ahhhh” search call followed by versions of the typical call. No luck at our first two stops. At the third stop, with our luck seemingly fading like the light in the west, we heard “whoooo-ahhhh” from the direction of our first stop! I returned the call – nothing in response. Ethan asked if that was it; I replied maybe, maybe not.
We retraced our steps, and I called again hoping that maybe, just maybe, the evening was not over. After the umpteenth reminder about patience, two birds flew silently into our view – they were here!
They immediately called a couple of times revealing their exact location which allowed Ethan to come nearly nose-to-beak through his new binoculars. Then the caterwauling began – it was in a word – his – awesome! My thoughts, exactly.
Eventually one of the owls flew toward us landing a mere 15 feet away checking us out. It remained there long enough for Ethan to Facetime his parents and show them the owl. Imagine the memory Ethan will have of sharing the sight and sounds of a Barred Owl with his parents while they sat in a restaurant in Lubbock.
Never again will Ethan think that he was the reason the owls wouldn’t appear. Always will he have this experience to talk about – and talk he will.
Ethan’s experience is the reason nature centers are necessary. Nature centers like The Cibolo create memories. As in my case those memories sometimes turn into natural resource careers.
I checked in on Springbrook Learning Center as I wrote this. Sadly, it closed in 2017 because of lack of interest by local schools. I was heartbroken. That one week created memories that forged my career as a naturalist and educator. Without it, who knows where the road might have led.
Friday puts a wrap on another summer of day camps at Cibolo. Through them memories were made, perhaps opening the door to a future naturalist or outdoor educator. Having had those memory-making experiences, the demise of my beloved Springbrook reinforces how important nature centers are to a community. For a community the size of Boerne, having a nature center is a gift. Most communities of similar size don’t have one.
I encourage you to visit The Cibolo, explore its trails and share nature with your children or grandchildren. Support the center for what it brings to and does for the community. We never know how lucky we are until something is gone – let’s make sure that never happens for memories are waiting to be made, owls to be called.
