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Owl Animal Series editor: Jonathan Burt Crow Cat Spider Boria Sax Katharine M. Rogers Katja and Sergiusz Michalski Ant Peacock Pig Charlotte Sleigh Christine E. Jackson Brett Mizelle Tortoise Cow Lion Peter Young Hannah Velten Deirdre Jackson Cockroach Swan Camel Marion Copeland Peter Young Robert Irwin Dog Shark Chicken Susan McHugh Dean Crawford Annie Potts Oyster Rhinoceros Wolf Rebecca Stott Kelly Enright Gary Marvin Bear Moose Butterfly Robert E. Bieder Kevin Jackson Matthew Brower Bee Duck Sheep Claire Preston Victoria de Rijke Philip Armstrong Rat Horse Octopus Jonathan Burt Elaine Walker Helen Tiffin Snake Elephant Flea Drake Stutesman Daniel Wylie Karin Barton Falcon Eel Giraffe Helen Macdonald Richard Schweid Mark Williams Whale Ape Jellyfish Joe Roman John Sorenson Animal Parrot Snail Beetle Paul Carter Peter Williams Adam Dodd Tiger Pigeon Donkey Susie Green Barbara Allen Jill Bough Salmon Bat Peter Coates Forthcoming Judith Halberstam Fox Penguin Martin Wallen Stephen Martin Fly Hare Steven Connor Simon Carnell Owl Desmond Morris REAKTION BOOKS Published by REAKTION BOOKS LTD 33 Great Sutton Street London EC1V 0DX, UK www.reaktionbooks.co.uk First published 2009 Copyright © Desmond Morris 2009 All rights reserved No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the publishers. Page references in the Photo Acknowledgements and Index match the printed edition of this book. Printed and bound in China British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Morris, Desmond. Owl. – (Animal) 1. Owls. 2. Owls in literature. 3. Owls in art. I. Title II. Series 598.9’7-DC22 eISBN: 9781861897107 Contents Introduction 1 Prehistoric Owls 2 Ancient Owls 3 Medicinal Owls 4 Symbolic Owls 5 Emblematic Owls 6 Literary Owls 7 Tribal Owls 8 Owls and Artists 9 Typical Owls 10 Unusual Owls Timeline Appendix: Classification of Owls References Bibliography Associations and Websites Photo Acknowledgements Index The White Owl, a portrait of the barn owl by Eleazar Albin in 1731. The iconic shape of the owl has been a joy for illustrators for centuries. Introduction The owl is a contradiction. It is the best known of birds and the least known of birds. Ask anyone, even a small child, to draw an owl and they will do so without hesitation. Ask them when they last saw an owl and they will pause, think hard and then say they can’t remember. As a picture in a book – yes; as a bird in a documentary – probably; as a cage inmate in a zoo – possibly. But TV when did they last see a live owl in the wild, in its natural state? That is a different matter. How has this contradiction arisen? It is easy enough to understand why we so rarely encounter a live owl, for it is a shy night predator with silent flight. Unless we went out of our way to spot one and made organized nocturnal forays with special equipment, we would have little chance of coming face to face with one. It is harder to understand why we are so familiar with its appearance, if we see so little of it. The answer lies in its unique head shape. Like human beings the owl has a wide, rounded head, with a flat face and a pair of large, wide-set, staring eyes. This gives it an unusually human quality that no other bird can match and in ancient times it was sometimes referred to as the human-headed bird. We call ourselves Homo sapiens, meaning ‘wise man’ and because the owl has a human-looking head we refer to it as a ‘wise old bird’. In reality an owl is not as wise as a crow or a parrot, but we think of it as wise simply because of its superficial resemblance to us. A child’s-eye view: Wise Owl, Sad Owl, Angry Owl by Matilda, age 10, ink and pencil on paper, 2008. It is this humanoid stare that makes us feel we know the owl. And it is the broad head and the big, forward-facing eyes that make it impossible for us to look at an owl and not feel that we are in the presence of a deep-thinking avian relative. This makes us, at the same time, rather sentimental about owls and rather scared of them. If they are so wise and yet they only come out at dead of night, perhaps they are up to no good? Like burglars they stalk their prey when their victims are at their most vulnerable. Like vampires they only draw blood when the sun has gone down. Perhaps, instead of wisdom, there might be something evil about the owl? When we examine the history of our relationship with owls we find that it has, indeed, frequently been a symbol of both wisdom and evil. Wise or wicked, wicked or wise, the image of the owl keeps altering. For several thousand years these two iconic values have kept swapping and changing. Another of the contradictory qualities of the much misunderstood owl. In this book I want to examine both these roles, and others too. For the evil owl can suddenly change into a protective owl if its imagined violence can be harnessed and turned against our enemies. In India it has also been seen as a vehicle for a goddess, swooping down from the sky, and in Europe, by some, as a symbol of obstinacy and by others as an emblem of calm in the face of extreme provocation. In the twenty-first century, when we are at last coming to appreciate the wild fauna of our planet and worry about its dramatic decline, we are also keen to understand the fascinating biology of the owl. A Bestiary Owl, 12th century. So there are many owls to be examined here: the wise owl, the evil owl, the protective owl, the transporting owl, the obstinate owl, the calm owl and the natural owl. And there have been many different epochs and cultures in which our interest in owls has led to a fascinating collection of myths, legends and artefacts, all dominated by the owls’ hypnotic stare. On a personal note, from my days as a zoo curator I have known many captive owls, and during the days when I was travelling around making television programmes about animal life, I met many more. But if I am honest, I have – like you, I suspect – met very few owls in the wild, in their natural habitats. There was, however, one memorable encounter that I still recall vividly in every detail, even though it took place over sixty years ago, when I was at boarding school. I had wandered off into the countryside near the school one summer’s afternoon, and saw something strange in the corner of a field. I approached slowly and silently because I could see that it was some kind of bird, standing immobile on the ground. As I drew closer, it still did not move. Then, when I was about ten feet away from it, I realized with a sudden jolt of recognition that it was a blood-covered, severely injured owl. It must have been shot, caught up in a trap, entangled in some sort of sharp wiring, or hit by a car in the night. Its injuries were horrific and it was clearly dying slowly and in great pain. It was beyond veterinary help. What was I to do? As there was no hope of saving it, my choice of action was deeply unpleasant. The easy option was to leave it alone, but this would mean that I was condemning it to die in agony. On the other hand, if I killed it, I would be putting it out of its misery, but this would require me to perform a violent act against a helpless victim and to destroy a magnificent bird. As a small schoolboy I found it hard to choose. I looked at the owl and the owl looked at me, its large
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