There’s an owl in my neighborhood. I can hear him hooting every evening, and I always hoot back. A couple of years ago the owl (probably not the same one I’m hearing now) did a flyover to check out the “owl” who’d responded to his hoots. He wasn’t impressed. After all, I don’t even have wings.
My hoot isn’t all that realistic either. I borrowed the one Gomer Pyle taught me in my childhood.
Still, I captured his attention for a moment. Girl owls, eat your hearts out.
Hooty-hoot and peace, people.