Dear Tweeters,
Just last November, a Northern Saw-whet Owl finally made itself known at my rural dwelling in Skagit County, near Cockreham Island. I had always expected one to show up, because I had once picked up a road-killed Saw-whet about 150 meters from where I now live--years before I had any inkling that I'd end up living here.
Then on this past Thursday night, the 26 of March, I heard a Saw-whet tooting from my front porch. The sound was coming from an isolated cluster of big conifers, just south and east of the house. It kept up tooting for over an hour. That was at about half-past ten at night.
The next day, the 27th, my wife and I walked the dog on the trail there, at Etach Slough. This was around noontime. She asked me if I would like to search for the owl. I said that, no, it is too hard to look for Saw-whets in the daytime, and those conifers are in a rather swampy spot. One would have to wear gumboots, presumably spending hours craning one's neck and peering into thick cedar foliage.
Then she asked me if maybe we might be able to hear it. I quickly rejoined that, no, they don't vocalize during the day.
Within two seconds of the end of that rejoinder, the Saw-whet starting tooting--in the broad daylight of noon! It did so for about fifteen to twenty seconds, and then went silent. As usual, Mr. Bletsch had been wrong, Mrs. Bletsch right. 
No, this wasn't a Northern Pygmy Owl. It was a Saw-whet.
When I got home, I checked through all of my records, and verified that that was the sole time I'd ever heard a Saw-whet in the daytime. I'd heard them at dusk and dawn a few times over the years, but never during the day. Wow!
Yours truly,
Gary Bletsch
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