(AM-2: dp. 1,009 (f.) ,1. 187'10", b. 35'6", dr. 10'4", s. 14 k. cpl. 78; a. 2 3"; cl. Lapwtng)
The first Owl (AM-2) was laid down 25 October 1917 by the Todd Shipbuilding Corp., Brooklyn, N.Y., Launched 4 March 1918 sponsored by Miss Ruth R. Dodd, and commissioned 11 Juiy 1918, Lt. (j.g.) Charles B. Babson in command.
Following a New York to Charleston towing assignment, Owl reported to the 5th Naval District at Norfolk, 22 August 1918. Employed as a minesweeper for the remaining montbs of World War I, she then served as a light ship in the inner approach to Chesapeake Bay until 10 July 1919. From that time until 1936, she was primarily engaged in providing towing services along the eastern seaboard and in the Caribbean. Between June 1936 and January 1941, she operated with units of the Aireraft Division, Base Force, providing planeguard, seaplane tender, and target and mooring buoy planting services from New England to the Caribbean. Then, temporarily attached to Train, Patrol Force at Culebra, P.R., she steamed to Bermuda in May for towing and servicing duties with MinDiv 14. Redesignated AT-137, 1 June 1942, she was based at Bermuda until June 1943. During that time, towing and escort duties frequently took her to the east coast, while numerous salvage and rescue missions, including aid to the submarine R-] and torpedoed Argentine tanker Victoria, kept her busy at Bermuda and in nearby convoy lanes.
Detached from Bermudan duty in June, Owl spent the last six months of 1943 with DesRon 30 operating out of Guantanamo Bay. She then steamed back to Norfolk for overhaul, and sailed for Europe. She arrived at Falmouth, U.K., 14 March 1944 to join the Allied forces gathering for the invasion of France. Redesignated ATO-137 on 15 May 1944, she arrived off the Normandy coast two days after "D-Day." As ground forces pushed inland, she towed port and road con
struction materials to the French eosst, thus aiding the all important flow of men and equipment to the front.
Availability at Falmouth early in the new year, 1945, preeeded her return to the United States, 27 February, and midAtlantic coast towing assignments. Transferred to the Pacific Fleet, she sailed from Newport, 5 May, with YNG-11 in tow, and arrived at San Diego 23 June, to join ServRon 2. In August she continued on to Pearl Harbor for four months of target towing duty, returning to the west coast 2 January 1946. Owl tben provided towing services for the 19th (Reserve) Fleet until beginning inactivation in April. She decommissioned in the 13th Naval District 26 July 1946 and on 27 June 1947 was sold for scrapping to the Pacific Metal and Salvage Co. at Port of Nordland, Wash.
Owl received 1 battle star for World War II service.
Owl Folklore and Legends, Magic and Mysteries
Owls are a bird that features prominently in the myths and legends of a variety of cultures. These mysterious creatures are known far and wide as symbols of wisdom, omens of death, and bringers of prophecy. In some countries, they are seen as good and wise, in others, they are a sign of evil and doom to come. There are numerous species of owls, and each seems to have its own legends and lore. Let's look at some of the best-known bits of owl folklore and mythology.
Great horned owls were first described in 1788 by Johann Friedrich Gmelin, a German naturalist who published the 13th edition of "Systema Naturae" by Carolus Linnaeus. That edition included a description of the great horned owl and gave it the scientific name Bubo virginianus because the species was first observed in the Virginia colonies.
Sometimes called hoot owls, great horned owls range in length from 17 to 25 inches, have a wingspan of up to five feet, and an average weight of 3.2 pounds. They are the second heaviest owl in North America (after the Snowy Owl), and they are powerful hunters that can grip and crush a full-grown rabbit: their talons form an oval between 4–8 inches in diameter. There's a good chance that you've heard the hoo-hoo-hoo call of the great horned owl if you've spent any time in the woods at night young great horned owls will hiss or screech, especially when disturbed or frightened.
Characteristics vital for their hunting success include large eyes, excellent hearing, and silent flight. Their eyes are adapted for night vision but are relatively immobile, directed forward. To compensate, their cervical vertebrae are quite flexible, allowing owls to turn their head over 180 degrees.
Great horned owls have prominent ear tufts atop their head, one of several owl species that possess ear tufts. Scientists disagree as to the function of these ear tufts: Some suggest that the ear tufts serve as camouflage by breaking the contour of the owl's head, while others suggest that the tufts serve some role in communication or recognition, enabling the owls to convey some kind of signals to one another. Experts agree though, that the ear tufts play no role in hearing.
Because they remain largely inactive during the day, great horned owls are cryptically colored—that is, their coloration is patchy so that they can blend with their surroundings while they rest. They have a rust-brown colored facial disk and white feathers on their chin and throat. Their body is a mottled grey and brown color above and barred on the belly.
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Aliens Among Us: A Brief History of the Owl
Pliny the Elder described the owl as “the very monster of the night” and argued that “when it appears, it foretells nothing but evil.” He also believed the viscera of owls held curative properties that, when applied properly, could restore health and relieve pain. A healthy elixir of owl brain and oil introduced directly into the ear canal, for example, was a handy cure for an earache. From Pliny’s time onward, owls have always been a symbol of shifting and seemingly antithetical qualities—hulking observer and swift hunter, totem of wisdom and escort of the occult. These dueling qualities and fluctuating characteristics compete across cultures and traditions to cast the owl as a creature of influence, both benevolent and evil, and therefore, a bird to be taken seriously.
A few weeks ago in a park near my apartment, I was startled by what I took to be an off-leash dog seated calmly in the sun. As I approached, I noticed the figure was feathered, pantalooned in white. It was a bird, and it was startling in its heft. The bird was neither wounded nor trapped. It was alert amid the barbecue and sunbathers. Several onlookers snapped photos, and we speculated about the bird’s origins and intentions. Had it come for the barbecue? How close could we get? How comfortable were we with this giant, grounded creature?
I have most often observed owls from safe distances. They have appeared perched on the fire escape of an adjacent building or airborne, gliding along at a speck of their actual mass. But up close, they are overwhelming and otherworldly. Up close, we see that they defy the everyday concept of bird—hollow-boned, palmable, skimming and delicate. Ordinary, everyday birds are weightless, like their nests, built of horsehair, dander and cigarette butts. These birds are easily shooed. Effortlessly managed. But the owl contradicts flight. It makes mass ambient.
The Owls Are Not What They Seem
In Twin Peaks, David Lynch’s 1990s cult television series, the characters in a small town navigate their lives in the wake of an unsolved murder. I have vague memories of the plot points, but the atmosphere of the show persists. Lynch constructs a porous reality where sinister, supernatural elements exist comfortably within a soap-opera narrative, and the result is at once ludicrous and thrilling. The characters’ odd behaviors (one woman carries a log around town like a baby) along with the darkness of the plot (murder, kidnapping, demonic possession) leave the viewer alert and on edge. At any moment the action could veer into horror or slapstick.
The refrain the owls are not what they seem echoes throughout the series and plays on the duality we assign to owls. If the owls are not what they seem, and we can’t quite pinpoint what they seem, then what, exactly, are they? Are they not nocturnal birds from the order Strigiformes? What other possibilities do their forms contain? Does the call of a screech owl portend death, as American Southern folklore suggests? Or are owls messengers from the underworld, as depicted in the Mayan mytho-historical narratives of the Popol Vuh?
To say that something is not any one thing is a smart way to allow for the possibility that it could be most anything else: a simple nocturnal bird or an usher into a red-roomed netherworld.
Note the Headswivel
Owls have the ability to swivel their heads up to 270 degrees. It is an unsettling act to witness, a defiance of tendons and blood vessels. A mockery of vertebrae. The owl holds every vantage point at once. How can it be challenged? The headswivel becomes a force of nature even in its sharp defiance of nature.
Humans have been fascinated with this trick since the Paleolithic. An etching, discovered in the Chauvet caves in southern France, depicts an owl, mid-headswivel. The hunched shape of the bird is unmistakably owl, as are the pricked ears and the sharp, straight beak. At first glance, it is as if we are seeing the creature head on. But a closer look reveals vertical lines on the owl’s body —wings folded in. It appears to be a view of the back of the owl. The etching is a rude sketch, but it is a confirmation in soft stone that the quirks of owls have always provoked documentation.
The headswivel brings to mind several notable cultural references, both benevolent and evil. Bubo, the quirky, gold mechanical owl from Clash of the Titans (1981) appears to Perseus and company as they are adrift in a desert wasteland. Bubo is able to communicate—in an extreme sequence of clicks and mechanized hoots—that he will lead the lost travelers in the right direction. In one scene, Perseus plucks the bird from the dirt and releases him into the air, where he alights on a tree branch and charms the hell out of everyone with a serious headswivel and a wink.
But there is that other, darker headswivel that comes to mind. The unforgettable moment in The Exorcist (1973), when a well-intentioned priest tries to cast a demon out of poor Linda Blair, who has become increasingly difficult to manage. As the priest makes the sign of the cross on her head, she sits up slowly in bed, in full-on demon form, looks calmly at the priest, and then and spins her head 360 degrees.
My ten-year-old self can never unsee this.
Alfred Jarry, a Frenchman and a grandfather of the Oulipo Movement, kept a first-floor apartment that faced an alleyway. The arrangement allowed little light into the apartment, but it undoubtedly delighted the neighborhood owls that he welcomed into his home. As noted in Alastair Brotchie’s biography of Jarry, A Pataphysical Life, this “permanent nocturnal apartment was the perfect habitat for Jarry’s new companions: owls, free to fly about, or sleep as they wished.” Brotchie includes Jarry’s analysis of owls: “The unthinking presume they are malefic, since they sleep during the day and awaken at night, and their crooked beaks are preposterously shaped and utterly inconvenient.”
This hospitality of darkness, this hastiness in typifying nocturnal beings, brings to mind an etching from Goya’s series, Los Caprichos. El Sueno de La Razon Produce Monstruos (The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters) depicts a man (an artist?) asleep at his worktable. As he sleeps, his head cradled in his arms, he is unaware of the wingfest surrounding him. Owls and bats, creatures of the night, descend around him in a terrifying swarm. Or is it something other than terror? I like to think of this print as a celebration of imagination, the sense that when the intellect is powered off, the unconscious, the artistic elements thrive in the darkness.
Women and Birds
Common birds are flighty, skittish, mercurial, small-boned. They are fragile and easily startled. In the first half of the 20 th century, bird was a slang term for a woman. In the second half, it became the more diminutive (and unfortunate) chick.
The sound of bird is sympathetic: Almost bride. Almost breed.
However, the link between women and birds has been alive much longer than this linguistic trail allows. An ancient example can be found in Lilith, Adam’s alleged first wife. She is often depicted as a serious contender, not a jumpy, flappable creature. Lilith is physical force. A Sumerian tablet, dated around 2300 BC, depicts her as “the goddess of death—a winged woman with feet like an owl’s talons, a crown resembling an owl’s ear tufts and two owls for companions. Her name is derived from an ancient word meaning night (Berger).”
Owls Always Have the Right-of-way!
Consider the sagacity of the cartoon owl. These owls are often transatlantic and bespectacled or ludicrously bug-eyed. They are unbearably condescending. In a Tootsie Roll Pop commercial from the late 1980s, a cartoon owl fitting this description is approached by a cartoon child, who wonders arbitrarily how many licks it takes to get to the center of the Tootsie Roll Pop. The owl, in the spirit of empirical data-gathering, unwraps the Tootsie Roll Pop and counts out three licks before inhaling the candy in one ecstatic gulp (it is worth noting, he doesn’t eat the stick).
Owl, a character in the Winnie the Pooh books, first published by English author A.A. Milne in the early 1920s, serves as a strong example of the wise-with-an-attitude cartoon owl. These stories, animated by Disney since the late 1960s, feature Owl as boorish and overbearing. In one episode entitled “Owl Feathers” the character in question flies inexplicably directly into another bird mid-flight. Feathers explode and Owl exclaims haughtily, “Excuse me, my friend, but I believe I have the right of way, and I quote, ‘Owls always have the right-of-way over the common, ordinary waterfowl.’” Maybe Owl has an above average intellect, but his survival instinct is limited. This is evident in the subsequent scene, where he is mobbed by a gang of angry, ordinary waterfowl.
The Owl Pages
The Owl Pages is an informational website about the habits, habitats, psychology and physiology of owls. It was here, in the Frequently Asked Questions of The Owl Pages, that I unexpectedly came across the titles of six poems that I would eventually write. Among the standard questions one might expect to ask about a bird of intrigue (What do they eat? Why do they hoot?) there are other ludicrously good inquiries: I’d like to get rid of the aforementioned Owl, what can I do to make it clear off without hurting it? Or I’d like to keep the aforementioned Owl around, what can I do to encourage it to stay? Can I feed it? or that other chestnut, The aforementioned Owl is [sick, dying, injured, abandoned, possessed], what can I do to help it?
I found the questions to be both absurd and haunting. I have had these same questions, mostly in regards to other humans: How to repel or attract another creature? How to properly aid an abandoned thing? Is it foolish to think the dying are different from the possessed? I like to imagine that the poems that resulted from these titles inhabit a space where the permeable world we live in with its wharves, stovepipes and wicker coexists with the bare face of that other world—the one that we know is there, that we ignore every day.
The word owl has a strange mouthfeel: open, windblown. The word swims on the tongue. The songs of various owl species seem equally uncertain: The barn owl’s rusty, hinged whine. The falling mew of the barred owl. The eerie, hollow knocking of the Eastern screech.
According to Peter Tate, author of Flights of Fancy: Birds in Myth, Legend and Superstition, a belief originating in India proposes various fates according to the number of owl calls one hears:
If an owl screeched once, it foretold death twice, the success of some project three times, a marriage four, trouble five, a journey six, the arrival of visitors seven, anxiety eight, sudden death and nine, a favourable event.
Suddenly There Came a Tapping
The Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore posts a snippet on its website from lore surrounding the origin of Poe’s famous poem “The Raven.” In one clip, Susan Archer Talley Weiss, a contemporary of Poe’s, alleges that in initial drafts, the poem featured an owl, not a raven as the instigator. This makes sense, the note contends, since the bird in the poem alights on the bust of Pallas—or Pallas Athena—a deity well-linked with owls.
Whether or not the account is true, it is lovely to imagine Poe’s raven in its sleek creepiness replaced with a stalwart, hunched nugget: an owl roosting doggedly on the bust above the door, the weight of bird and bust cracking the plaster around the doorjamb, the whole scene ready to cave in on itself. The image might not hold, but the idea of the owl as a taciturn, eternal soul-tormenter and tenacious percher is spot on.
Long before Twin Peaks, owls were associated with death, dying, mystery, soothsaying and the passage to the afterworld. The Romans believed owls were messengers of death. “Three emperors, Augustus, Valentinian and Commodus Antonius, were thought to have died after an owl alighted on the roof of their villas (Tate).” In Ancient Egypt, if a lowly official received the glyph of an owl from the Pharoah, it was understood that the recipient should take his own life (Tate)
How to reconcile a bird like this? The owl lugs the baggage of the ancients. It sleeps the day. It remains creature and hidden. It carries whatever symbol we clip to it. Think of Athena, unwilling to embrace conflict without principle. Think of Lilith’s wings.
Carey McHugh’s latest book of poetry, American Gramophone, may or may not contain images of owls.
What should be included in my conclusion?
- One paragraph only – approximately 150 words.
- Provides a direct answer to the question by synthesising (combining) the main points of the essay.
- DO NOT argue against your thesis in your introduction.
An example conclusion
To what extent did World War II lead to women in the United States becoming permanent participants of the labor force?
It, therefore, seems that World War II was indeed, responsible for an incorporation of females in the American labor force during the war years, an increase that is likely to have lead to a change in the perspective of male employers and public officials towards women employees, and might have played important role in the rise in women’s employment during the late postwar period. However, evidence regarding the percentage of “Rosies” that were to form part of the postwar labor force suggests that the conflict did not secure a permanent incorporation of war female workers into the American labor force. World War II can therefore be seen as responsible for a number of significant ideological changes regarding women’s employment but its direct influence in terms of persistence of women’s participation in the labor force appears to have been modest.
- Relates clearly to the question.
- It is consistent with the thesis stated in the introduction.
- It is consistent the evidence and arguments provided in the main body.
- No new evidence is provided.
The IA used is an exemplar from the IBO – to read the full IA please click here.
We get be video and system says camera in peril. How do we fix it?
When I watch my recordings for the day I can't hear what is being said.
- Check if the recordings you are trying to play can be found on the DVR/NVR. If not, then you probably have a Playback Issue on your DVR/NVR.
- Please, make sure you are using the correct app for your DVR/NVR. You should check mobile app compatibility at support.nightowlsp.com/hc/en-us/articles/115015976428.
- Make sure your Night Owl Mobile App and mobile device software are both up to date. Also, ensure your mobile device meets the minimums requirements.
- Make sure your DVR/NVR and your mobile device are both properly connected to an Internet network that meets the minimums requirements.
Paleontology and classification
The fossil history of owls dates to the beginning of the Paleocene Epoch 65.5 million years ago, after which occurred a major diversification by the Eocene Epoch (55.8 to 33.9 million years ago). Some early owls reached far greater size than their modern descendants. A giant barn owl, about twice the size of the modern Tyto alba, inhabited Puerto Rico during the Pleistocene Epoch (2.6 million to 11,700 years ago). Another large owl, Ornimegalonyx oteroi from the Pleistocene of Cuba, apparently was flightless. Both owls must have exceeded the modern eagle owls in size.
Great Horned Owls roost in trees, snags, thick brush, cavities, ledges, and human-made structures. They are active mostly during the night—especially at dusk and before dawn. When food supplies are low they may begin hunting in the evening and continue into the early morning in winter they may hunt during daylight hours. Mated pairs are monogamous and defend their territories with vigorous hooting, especially in the winter before egg-laying and in the fall when their young leave the area. Great Horned Owls respond to intruders and other threats with bill-clapping, hisses, screams, and guttural noises, eventually spreading their wings and striking with their feet if the threat escalates. They may kill other members of their own species. Crows, ravens, songbirds, and raptors often harass Great Horned Owls with loud, incessant calls and by dive-bombing, chasing, and even pecking them. Unattended eggs and nestlings may fall prey to foxes, coyotes, raccoons, lynx, raptors, crows, and ravens. Both members of a pair may stay within the territory outside of the breeding season, but they roost separately.Back to top
1 They&rsquore Silent Killers
A large part of what makes owls such effective hunters is their ability to hear exceptionally well, while remaining silent themselves. However, this requires some interesting adaptations. Special hooks on the front of the owl&rsquos wing feathers act as airflow silencers, while &ldquofraying&rdquo on the trailing edges offer silent flight that allows the owl to swoop behind prey undetected.
To produce truly cutting-edge powers of auditory detection, owls fly in the face of conventions of animal symmetry. Several owl genera have asymmetrical ears, located at different heights on the owl&rsquos head. This allows the owl to pinpoint the location of sounds in multiple dimensions, helping to quickly guide the bird into striking range.
Ron Harlan investigates of the mysteries of nature and the bizarre findings that often crop up on this planet. He is a freelance writer, naturalist and graduate student in sciences.