Night Shift

As our daylight fades, Philly’s owls are clocking in.

Here in Philadelphia, the change of seasons is gradual. We can feel autumn coming with the first crisp evenings in August, but it’ll still feel like summer until the light turns. One week you’re dining in sunshine, the next you’re in the shadows.

But just because you can’t see out your windows doesn’t mean there’s nothing to peep. Or, rather, hoot.

Owls are closer than we think. They’ve been working our woods, parks, and tree-lined blocks all year long, and now it’s their time to shine. Let’s meet our resident all-star and three other standouts.

Above Owl Else

The Great Horned Owl is your standard-issue storybook owl. Big and brown, with enormous yellow eyes, round face, and a squarish head with prominent side-peaks. Its haunting call is instantly recognizable from countless spooky soundtracks: “Hooh-HOO-hoo-hooooo!” But our familiar friend still has his secrets.

His “horns,” for instance, are often mistaken for ears, but actually they’re just feather tufts. The real ears sit on either side of the bird’s head, surrounded by stiff, funnel-shaped feathers that capture sound almost like a satellite dish. Indeed, its whole face is part of this parabolic listening system.

Those horns, then, are more for looks. Owls can flatten them when threatened or bristle them straight up to intimidate rivals. They also function like camouflage, breaking up the bird’s silhouette against bark and branches.

And their eyes! Owl eyes only look round. They’re actually shaped more like long tubes, held in place by bony rings. This adaptation concentrates their vision straight ahead while giant pupils gather nearly every available trace of light.

But there’s a tradeoff: an owl’s eyes can’t move to follow an object the way ours can. They’re basically locked into the skull, which is why owls evolved to swivel their heads around. Technically, they can turn up to 270 degrees in either direction – three quarters of a full circle. (Eat your heart out, Linda Blair.)

An owl’s wings are another engineering marvel. Special serrated feathers break up turbulence like little combs, while soft fringe and velvety down further muffle the whoosh of flight. An owl on the hunt can glide almost silently over unsuspecting prey, tuning in to every little squeak and rustle until it knows exactly where to strike.

Owls are extraordinarily effective ambush predators, and the Great Horned is particularly lethal. Powerful talons seize the prey, while a hooked beak tears larger animals into manageable pieces. Smaller prey is often swallowed whole: bones, fur, teeth, feathers and all.

The soft parts are digested. Everything else that can’t be broken down gets collected and compacted into a tight oval mass that eventually comes back up as an owl pellet — leaving behind a sure sign that owls are afoot.

A Great Horned Owl enjoys a diverse diet of over 200 species, including rabbits, rodents, squirrels, geese, skunks, other raptors — even other owls. And right now, these murder machines are feeling romantic.

Love at First Hoot

Like most owls, Great Horneds spend much of the year alone, but their love lives are surprisingly committed: they’re monogamous and generally pair for life.

Come October, their deep hooting picks up as they stake out breeding territory — one reason they’re so noticeable this time of year. By December, courtship is in full swing and those solos may turn into duets. Listen closely and you can sometimes distinguish the couple: males have the deeper voices, though females are larger.

Neither bird bothers building a nest. Instead, the couple will usually commandeer the abandoned home of a hawk, crow or squirrel. Great Horneds are among our earliest nesting birds, with Pennsylvania females sometimes sitting on eggs by late January. As the world winterizes, these hooters are getting busy. 💕💋🪺

If you hear them, there will likely be owlets this spring. Great Horneds fare well here, they’re one of the area’s most commonly-encountered owls.

Birds of a Feather

Once you spot one owl, you can be pretty certain that there are others here too. Philadelphia has more owl variety than you might expect, with at least half a dozen species found around the city. Let’s look at three more of our favorites – two locals, and a tourist.

Barred Owl: Avian Interrogator

Like the Great Horned Owl, you’ll know it when you hear it. Barred Owls are famous for their unique eight-note call: “Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you-all?”

You’ll hear them in mature woods, particularly around water. Though the bulk of a Barred Owl’s diet is small mammals, they’re excellent aquatic hunters that regularly consume frogs, snakes, snails — even fish and crustaceans. Barred Owls are expert opportunists capable of making a meal of practically anything that moves. No wonder they’re obsessed with cooking (ha).

The Barred Owl was first scientifically cataloged by Philadelphia naturalist Benjamin Smith Barton in 1799, no signs of breeding had ever been observed in the county until 2020, when the Philadelphia Breeding Bird Census documented nesting behavior in Carpenter’s Woods (Mt Airy). Since then, fledglings and bonded pairs have been reported around the Wissahickon — a pretty remarkable development for an owl that seemed to be a seasonal guest.

Fall gives them another reason to speak up. As young Barred Owls begin leaving their family territories, adults continue calling their species catchphrase through the woods, defining boundaries as the next generation moves on.

Eastern Screech-Owl: Nothing to See Here

Screech Owls are so thoroughly nocturnal they’ve adapted to living among us, undetected, in the trees around our homes and neighborhoods.

For such an abundant species, we hardly ever see them. Aside from their red-eye schedule and impressive camouflage (their feathers are patterned like tree bark), they’re also quite tiny, about the size of a robin.

Their name is basically a lie: while Screech Owls can screech, they typically don’t. Instead, their signature sounds are an eerie descending whinny and a soft, steady tremolo.

Late summer and early fall bring a new round of conversation as this year’s young leave the nest and owl families begin spreading out. Their calls help them stay in contact and establish themselves in a landscape where suitable tree cavities can be surprisingly close to houses, sidewalks and streetlights.

Screech Owls are year-round residents, and autumn is a great time to appreciate their discreet yet haunting presence, hidden in plain sight.

Northern Saw-whet: Little Outlier

Think you know owls? This one’s a real curve ball. For starters, Northern Saw-whets are comically tiny — about the size of a can of soda and roughly half the weight of a Screech Owl.

Unlike the other owls in this write-up, Saw-whets are commitment-phobes. Pairs do not hook up more than once. A female will often ditch her first mate – including their brood – to shack up with another male if resources are good. Similarly, in times of plenty, a male will use his extra rations to attract another female and start a second family he’ll raise in a different part of his territory.

Instead of hooting, Saw-whets make a high-pitched, repetitive whistle that reminded early ornithologists of a whetstone sharpening a saw blade. Today’s birders liken it more to the “toot-toot-toot…” a truck makes when it backs up.

Either way, it’s probably a good thing they only do this during spring breeding season. The rest of the year, they rarely make a peep. As wee nomads, saw-whets take care to keep a low profile where bigger, resident owls might make a snack of them.

Most saw-whets you see in Philly are just passing through on their seasonal migration from the dense conifer forests up north to their winter homes along the southern Atlantic seaboard. A small minority will stay here in the Wissahickon (apparently some take “Go Birds!” as a personal challenge).

And so it goes with our nocturnal neighbors. As the trees lose their leaves and the night comes earlier every day, the city’s owls reveal themselves in their own distinctive ways. Perched just beyond the glow of our windows, they’re living proof that the wild world is always on the clock. Once you know who’s working it, the dark doesn’t seem so empty. Listen; we’re not alone out there.

WHO’S HOO (at a glance)

GREAT HORNED OWL — Apex woodland predator.
AKA: King of Owls, Lord of the Woods, Tiger of the Sky.
ID: 18–25 inches; wingspan 3–5 feet. Mottled gray-brown plumage with reddish-brown face and white throat patch. Gold eyes, prominent head tufts. Prefers large stick nests 30–70 feet off the ground in well-covered tree forks, ledges or hollows.
📍Local Haunts: Wissahickon Environmental Center, Laurel Hill cemetery, John Heinz National Wildlife Refuge, Pennypack Park.

BARRED OWL — Stocky, all-purpose hunter.
AKA: Swamp Owl, Wood Owl, Old Eight Hooter.
ID: 16–20 inches; wingspan 3–3½ feet. Mottled gray-brown and white plumage with horizontal brown bars across the chest and vertical streaks on the belly. Dark eyes, no ear tufts. Nests in tree cavities, often near water.
📍Local Haunts:  Carpenter’s Woods and the upper Wissahickon Valley Park; Pennypack.

EASTERN SCREECH-OWL — Small, shy and practically invisible neighbor.
AKA: Spirit Owl, Feathered Wildcat, Little Dukelet.
ID: 8–10 inches; wingspan 1½–2 feet. Either gray or reddish-brown, both patterned with streaks that mimic tree bark. Bright golden eyes, distinct ear tufts. Nests in tree hollows and other sheltered cavities, often near humans.
📍Local Haunts:  upper Wissahickon / Carpenter’s Woods; Pennypack Park; Cobbs Creek (also leafy residential neighborhoods).

NORTHERN SAW-WHET — Tiny, reclusive raptor passing through our region every fall.
AKA: Sparrow Owl, Saw-Filer, Queen Charlotte Owl.
ID: 7–8 inches; wingspan 12–20 inches. Brown body with white streaks and a distinct “V” between large yellow eyes and dark bill. Round head, no ear tufts. Nests primarily in old woodpecker holes and nest boxes.
📍Local Haunts:  Wissahickon in winter; John Heinz during migration/winter; Rushton Woods (Newtown Square) Sept-Oct.

ℹ️ PRO TIP: Pinpoint populations of local owls on iNaturalist, a non-profit social network where naturalists, citizen scientists, birders, biologists map and share their images and field notes. Enter any species to check out user sightings in your area, often with pics, video, and fascinating observations. iNaturalist also uses image-recognition technology for faster feedback on ID’s.

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HOOT COUTURE 🦉

Humans have had a thing for owls a very, very long time.

Way before your Aunt Barb started her collection, the Ancient Greeks were already deep into owl merch. A symbol of Athena — goddess of wisdom and patron of Athens —  the owl appeared on pottery and coins more than 2,000 years ago. Owls endured as icons through medieval Europe and in Indigenous civilizations across the globe, but it wasn’t until the 1970s that they became a full-fledged pop culture sensation.

As an emblem of the decade’s back-to-nature boom, they showed up on lamps, rugs, prints, planters, oven mitts, throw pillows and an array of inexplicably earth-toned suncatchers. Something about their flat faces and upright postures speaks to our human sensibilities. Those enormous, slow-blinking eyes can somehow look wise, peaceful, mysterious, and vaguely judgmental all at once.

That broad appeal may be the secret to their popularity. Owls can represent wisdom, good fortune, and otherworldly protection. But they can also tell us not to pollute and how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie pop. Few creatures are able to swing from ancient temple idol to macramé wall hanging as gracefully.

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FUN FACTS 🦉

• A Great Horned Owl’s grip is 5 to 12 times stronger than ours – we’d be able to rip phone books like wet cardboard, with that kind of power.
• Great Horned Owls are exceptionally effective hunters, with a success rate of around 66 percent.
• A Great Horned Owl pellet can be up to four inches long and an inch thick, sometimes containing recognizable bones, claws and other evidence of its last meal.
• Screech Owls sometimes catch prey on the wing and punch way above their weight, taking birds bigger than they are — including Blue Jays, flickers and even grouse.
• Saw-whets are “irruptive” migrants: every few years, their fall migration swells dramatically as rodent booms up north produce bumper crops of young owls.
• Owl dads pull their weight. In many species, males do much of the hunting while females incubate and brood. Great Horned papas seem to form especially strong bonds, providing significant care and protection. Saw-whet males will keep feeding the youngsters if Mom leaves to start another family.
• Fresh owl feathers fluoresce a vivid raspberry pink under ultraviolet light because of pigments that gradually fade — a handy trick researchers use to estimate age.
• The Northern Saw-whet is the smallest owl in Pennsylvania, and indeed you won’t find a more diminutive raptor in all of eastern North America.
• Owls have extraordinary distance vision, but they’re farsighted up close — they can’t properly focus on objects right in front of their beaks.
• The owl in the Tootsie Pop commercial has a name: “Mr. Owl”
• Other famous owls: Woodsy Owl (US Forest Service), Charlie the Owl (New Zoo Revue), Bubo the mechanical owl in Clash of the Titans (1981).
• The Owl and the Pussy-cat is a Victorian nonsense poem where the title characters fall in love, sail away together and get married by a turkey.
• Temple’s Owls were originally “Night Owls” – a mascot chosen at its founding in 1884 to honor its roots as a night school serving working-class people who had to study after hours.
• After its 2025 bankruptcy, Hooters is giving up its “breastaurant” branding to focus more on being a family-friendly beach-themed neighborhood joint.
• According to folklore, when Barred Owls are exceptionally loud late into the fall, a rough winter lies ahead. If an owl hoots during bad weather, the storm is about to break.

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LEARN MORE! Click the links in this post for more info. Thoughts? Comments? Please leave them below. If you enjoyed this Local wildlife feature, check out last month’s spotlight on the incredible biodiversity at the Jersey Shore.