'Owling at the moon

Two owls have been calling close to the village. Their hoo-oo-oo cries embodying their old Scots name – houlit.. There is something elemental in the sound of an owl. Like the pee-you of the buzzard or the flutey sound of the curlew, they evoke a wildness, a remoteness that the singing of a thrush never does. Birds of ill omen in most cultures but also of wisdom, owls have always held a special place in human myths. They occur over and over in literature from A. A. Milne to Thomas Gray, from Lear to Tennyson.

When icicles hang by the wall
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail
And Tom brings logs into the hall
And milk comes frozen home in pail
When blood is nipped and ways be foul
Then nightly sings the staring owl
Tu-who
Tu -whit Tu-who – a merry note

(Love‘s Labours Lost)

Not Shakespeare’s most elegant lines perhaps, nor his usual accuracy as a naturalist.

Tu –wit Tu-who is the sound of two owls, a male and a female, calling to each other In my nocturnal ramblings, I hear two, presumably, male birds tu-whooing away like pantomime ghosts but no answering tu-wit. It looks like the females are not around or are not in the answering mood at present
I hope there is a change soon for the poor owl needs to hear a tu-wit to woo!
Sorry!