Forest Owlet: Resurrected but Endangered

The late afternoon sun was still bright but had lost its heat. Hidden behind tall trees, the sun threw long shadows. I was outside Borpada village, about 10 km southeast of Waghai town in Gujarat’s Dang district. In this predominantly forested district, human habitation is the exception and dense foliage the norm. The jungle teems with life, much of it hidden behind thick greenery.

On the village’s outskirts, at a little clearing with agricultural land on one side and tall, dense trees on the other, my ears acclimatised and picked up a variety of sounds: rustling leaves caught in sporadic gusts of wind; fluttering wings, and a variety of bird calls as they flitted about in the trees. A group of yellow-throated sparrows blended perfectly with the bare branches of a dead tree, a nesting white-naped woodpecker that warily popped its head out of the hollow of a tree from time to time, a pair of green bee-eaters flitted around, an Indian roller perched on a tree stump its brilliant blue plumage a stunning contrast against the light blue of the sky.

Another sound intruded as I watched these creatures and listened to their shenanigans, mesmerised. It was feeble but distinctive – a rhythmic “hu-hu-hu” in a long sequence with a rising and falling pitch. It seemed to come from a high perch in the cluster of trees bordering the clearing. As the hooting continued, other sounds seemed to recede into the background. The thick foliage meant the source of the sound remained hidden. A meticulous search through a pair of binoculars finally revealed a forest owlet (Athene blewitti, previously Heteroglaux blewitti) that sat in the crook of a branch just below the canopy. It was brilliantly camouflaged and would have gone unnoticed if not for its hooting.

From where I stood, the forest owlet (called dangichibri locally) was more than 100 metres away and about 4-5 storeys high. It looked small compared to other owl varieties. But for its overall size (about 23 cm), its head seemed large, making it a rather weird relative to other owls. It reportedly weighs around 241 g at its heaviest. It was a mix of grey and brown with faint spots, ideal for camouflage. The upper parts were brown while the underside was white; the sides had bars, while the wings had heavy bands. The face was paler with bright yellow eyes and bands around. Like other owls, its eyes were riveting and piercing.

The history surrounding this bird is interesting. It was first spotted in 1872 by Irish ornithologist FR Blewitt and named Blewitt’s owl in his honour. “It was last spotted in 1884 and thought to have become extinct, but was rediscovered in 1997,” said Jaimin Makwana, research assistant with the Anand-based Voluntary Nature Conservancy, an NGO working in environmental conservation. In reality, it had been overlooked for over a century but hadn’t become extinct; it was American ornithologist Pamela Rasmussen who found two specimens in a survey in northern Maharashtra. But the bird isn’t thriving by any stretch of the imagination. “IUCN has classified it as “Endangered”, and its numbers are fast dwindling,” Makwana said.

The forest owlet is endemic to India (not found anywhere else in the world). Even in India, it has a narrow geographical distribution across a contiguous forest stretch starting from northern Maharashtra, stretching into Gujarat, Madhya Pradesh, Chhattisgarh, and Odisha (though rarely observed in the last two). The bird is highly dependent on and prefers moist deciduous and dry forests and woodlands (particularly teak forests). It can be found predominantly at the cusp of forest and agricultural land or forest clearings at altitudes of 200-500 metres.

Over the week in Dang, we spotted the owlet several times, always during the late morning or early evening. Makwana pointed out, “It is diurnal in nature but prefers to remain hidden after 10 am till late afternoon”. Kalam Dunger, a peak close to Waghai, has thick teak forests at its foothills, interspersed with large patches of grassland and farmland. In the deep silence of the late afternoon, the forests reverberated with the forest owlet’s hoots, a sound that I came to recognise and revel in.

Forest owlets have a variety of sounds in their repertoire, including yapping, screeching, and hooting. The sounds vary depending on the purpose — territorial, mating, alarm, etc. They are highly territorial and chase away intruders. They have a life span of 8-10 years, but marked birds have to be studied to support this statement.

  

Forest owlets are considered generalist predators, i.e., they consume a variety of small mammals, reptiles, rodents and even birds. They prefer to perch high on trees and silently stalk prey before swooping down. Lizards and skinks make up the bulk (60 per cent) of their food. Other amphibians, invertebrates, and insects make up 20 per cent, while they prey on other small birds and hatchlings to a small extent.

There are conflicting reports about their mating and breeding. Observers say the male offers the female rodents to woo her; if she accepts, they mate, or the male eats the offering and continues his quest. The birds are known to be monogamous and mate for life, but researchers have found exceptions.

The female lays 1-2 eggs, but the low survival of hatchlings has led to their dwindling numbers. They nest in the hollows of tree trunks, often moving into cavities made by woodpeckers which they vacate after nesting. When nesting, the males hunt for food while the female stays in the nest. The male feeds the female, who feeds the hatchlings. It is estimated that the young become fledglings (ready to fly) a month after birth but depend on the parents for up to 45 days afterwards.

 

Late one sunny morning, on the way to Purna Wildlife Sanctuary, at a clearing outside Jamlapada village, we had one of our clearest sightings. The forest owlet sat on a bare branch below the canopy line. We caught it in conversation with another of its ilk, unseen and at a distance. The two hooted in turns, one very clear and the other a bit feeble — a beautiful moment.

Makwana spoke of the various threats the bird faces, from the destruction of deciduous and teak forests to the indiscriminate use of rodenticide and poaching. As I silently watched the magnificent bird, disheartened by what Makwana had said, a noisy farm vehicle put a stop to the hooting, and the owlets flew away. Only the vehicle’s noise remained. Left unsaid was my hope that the studies and research into the bird might lead to something positive so their hooting isn’t permanently silenced.