Title photo from here. This photo was better than the one in the actual article and is from the same place.
From DiscoverWildlife
As a child, I saw owls as mystical beings that operated by night, were difficult to see at the best of times, and hung out in woodland locations far from the largely concrete surroundings of my home in London.
And, of all Britain’s owls, there was none more secretive than the long-eared owl, affectionately abbreviated to ‘LEO’ by birders.
This medium-sized owl is indeed quite scarce, normally detected by a haunting, wavering hoot that emanates from the deepest, darkest corners of woods. Its owlets, meanwhile, are renowned for their squeaky-gate squeals when begging for food from their parents.
I usually observed the youngsters as singletons roosting, mostly obscured within a thicket, staring blankly back at me.
About 20 years ago, Serbian ornithologist Milan Ružić realised that large numbers of long-eared owls were roosting in urban areas of Serbia, north from Belgrade. With a small party of volunteers, he set upon a crusade to chart these gatherings. Over the ensuing years he calculated that upwards of 35,000 birds were regularly wintering in the region, putting the UK’s paltry population of up to 4,000 pairs into the shade.
There are good numbers of long-eared owls during the winter in the wider region, as visitors to Hungary or Bulgaria will testify, but the epicentre seems to be northern Serbia.
I asked Milan about the project and he explained that a big part of it involved convincing locals that the birds were not spectres of doom to be murdered on sight, but beneficial to have around. The phenomenal numbers, he said, are attracted by the urban tree cover, because the surrounding countryside is largely devoid of trees. The owls head into rural areas after nightfall to feed on the very rich supply of tasty rodents, themselves encouraged by traditional farming methods that leave abundant quantities of grain on the ground when crops are harvested.
It was the long-eared owl populations in the small towns and villages that most interested Milan. He found that spectacular numbers of these birds congregated in conifers and junipers in parks, back gardens and churchyards, and even in the trees lining the main streets.
When I first arrived in Kikinda and wandered around, gawping at the owls, the locals looked at me as if I were a recently landed Martian. Nowadays, a much warmer welcome awaits visiting birders. Souvenir shops sell owl-themed paraphernalia, and November has even become Owl Month, during which children dress up accordingly.
Best of all, the national government of Serbia has designated Kikinda’s town square as a nature reserve – a world-first – with officials imposing fines for anyone caught disturbing the birds. It’s a truly fantastic conservation story that can only succeed if people continue to visit this very remarkable place.
