What an Owl Knows by Jennifer Ackerman review | Science and nature books

In her new book, Jennifer Ackerman, bestselling author of The Genius of Birds, takes us on a journey of discovery into the world of owls, exploring both their mystery and the new science that is revealing their complexity. Along the way, she introduces us to numerous species, from the tiny northern saw-whet owl, which lives in forests across North America and is as small as a robin, to the giant Blakiston’s fish owl, native to Japan and Russia.

Ackerman, a frequent contributor to National Geographic and the Smithsonian, is an intrepid reporter, hacking her way through dense undergrowth in Montana to find northern pygmy owls or getting covered in red dirt setting traps for burrowing owls in southern Brazil.

The book is not just about owls, though, but about the people who study them. There are many scientists and conservationists, who have, like Ackerman, fallen under the spell of these endearing creatures. People like José Luis Peña, a neuroscientist at the Albert Einstein College of Medicine, in New York, who has discovered that a barn owl’s sound localisation system relies on sophisticated mathematical computations to pinpoint its prey. Or zoomusicologist Magnus Robb, who studies hoots.

“If anyone knows anything about anything,” Winnie-the-Pooh famously remarked, “it’s Owl who knows something about something.” And it turns out, owls know a lot. Equipped with super-sensitive hearing, great grey owls in the far north are capable of detecting and catching voles deep beneath the snow by sound alone. Scientists have even discovered that owls process sound in the visual centre of their brains, so they may actually get a “picture” of the environment they are hearing.

One of the most fascinating chapters is on the cultural significance of owls, from their first representation in France’s Chauvet cave to ancient Indian folklore, where they feature as symbols of wisdom. But in many cultures, they are considered bad omens: in Zambia, the appearance of an owl on your roof presages bad news or death. In Honduras, one species is believed to suck the blood of infants. Ackerman also introduces us to the many celebrities who have kept owls as pets, such as Florence Nightingale, who carried a little owl in her pocket; or Picasso, who also adopted one that he then depicted in various drawings and ceramics. One of the most famous portrayals of an owl occurs in Goya’s haunting engraving The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters.

Like the rest of the natural world, owls are threatened by human action, above all by deforestation and agriculture. Island dwellers are most at risk, like the tiny Siau scops owl, which is on the verge of extinction in the shrinking forests of the Indonesian island of Siau. Even movies can pose a threat: the global popularity of Harry Potter’s pet snowy owl, Hedwig, resulted in thousands of owls being bought then dumped when their owners realised the cost and complexity of looking after them. But there are good outcomes, too. Eight hundred miles off the east coast of Australia, conservationists have brought back from the brink of extinction the Norfolk Island morepork, a beautiful chocolate-brown owl the size of your hand.

At night, where I live in Herefordshire, we often hear a barn owl hooting in a stand of pine trees behind the house. It’s an eerie, mysterious sound that never fails to enchant. And it is this enchantment that is at the core of this charming, deeply researched book. “That owl seemed like a messenger from another time and place, like starlight”, Ackerman writes of an encounter with a female long-eared owl in Montana. “Being near her somehow made me feel smaller in my body and bigger in my soul.”

In her new book, Jennifer Ackerman, bestselling author of The Genius of Birds, takes us on a journey of discovery into the world of owls, exploring both their mystery and the new science that is revealing their complexity. Along the way, she introduces us to numerous species, from the tiny northern saw-whet owl, which lives in forests across North America and is as small as a robin, to the giant Blakiston’s fish owl, native to Japan and Russia.

Ackerman, a frequent contributor to National Geographic and the Smithsonian, is an intrepid reporter, hacking her way through dense undergrowth in Montana to find northern pygmy owls or getting covered in red dirt setting traps for burrowing owls in southern Brazil.

The book is not just about owls, though, but about the people who study them. There are many scientists and conservationists, who have, like Ackerman, fallen under the spell of these endearing creatures. People like José Luis Peña, a neuroscientist at the Albert Einstein College of Medicine, in New York, who has discovered that a barn owl’s sound localisation system relies on sophisticated mathematical computations to pinpoint its prey. Or zoomusicologist Magnus Robb, who studies hoots.

“If anyone knows anything about anything,” Winnie-the-Pooh famously remarked, “it’s Owl who knows something about something.” And it turns out, owls know a lot. Equipped with super-sensitive hearing, great grey owls in the far north are capable of detecting and catching voles deep beneath the snow by sound alone. Scientists have even discovered that owls process sound in the visual centre of their brains, so they may actually get a “picture” of the environment they are hearing.

One of the most fascinating chapters is on the cultural significance of owls, from their first representation in France’s Chauvet cave to ancient Indian folklore, where they feature as symbols of wisdom. But in many cultures, they are considered bad omens: in Zambia, the appearance of an owl on your roof presages bad news or death. In Honduras, one species is believed to suck the blood of infants. Ackerman also introduces us to the many celebrities who have kept owls as pets, such as Florence Nightingale, who carried a little owl in her pocket; or Picasso, who also adopted one that he then depicted in various drawings and ceramics. One of the most famous portrayals of an owl occurs in Goya’s haunting engraving The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters.

Like the rest of the natural world, owls are threatened by human action, above all by deforestation and agriculture. Island dwellers are most at risk, like the tiny Siau scops owl, which is on the verge of extinction in the shrinking forests of the Indonesian island of Siau. Even movies can pose a threat: the global popularity of Harry Potter’s pet snowy owl, Hedwig, resulted in thousands of owls being bought then dumped when their owners realised the cost and complexity of looking after them. But there are good outcomes, too. Eight hundred miles off the east coast of Australia, conservationists have brought back from the brink of extinction the Norfolk Island morepork, a beautiful chocolate-brown owl the size of your hand.

At night, where I live in Herefordshire, we often hear a barn owl hooting in a stand of pine trees behind the house. It’s an eerie, mysterious sound that never fails to enchant. And it is this enchantment that is at the core of this charming, deeply researched book. “That owl seemed like a messenger from another time and place, like starlight”, Ackerman writes of an encounter with a female long-eared owl in Montana. “Being near her somehow made me feel smaller in my body and bigger in my soul.”