We'll see YOU at the

4th Annual

EVENING WITH OWLS

Thursday, November 20, 6:00pm to 9:30 pm, $75 per person

Marin Art & Garden Center

(Directions) & Local Lodging

350 Sir Francis Drake Blvd., Ross

An after dinner affair with catered savory & sweet treats, wine & drinks, and live owls!

Order Tickets

We are seeking sponsors for the event! If you would like to be a sponsor, at any level, please contact us.

This event is not only a fundraiser for our much needed and ever expanding project, but it is also a way for us all to enjoy an evening in the presence and magical spirit of owls... Last year's event sold out, so reserve your place now!

An after-dinner affair featuring delicious treats, both savory and sweet, and fine wines. All food and drink will be served in and on biodegradable products. We’ll have owl stories, short educational talks, a silent auction featuring fine art and photography donated by local artists, the opportunity to purchase gifts for the holidays AND you’ll meet the stars of the show - live owls! Mingle with other owl enthusiasts, nibble, drink wine, have fun - and leave with a sense of wonder. Leslie Harlib, of the Marin Independent Journal called this an evening “rich in edu-tainment; slide shows, lectures and demonstrations that helped us all understand how valuable owls can be.” Read Leslie's story on our 2006 event.

Hosted by Joe Mueller, College of Marin Biology Professor Extraordinaire & Winner of the 2008 Terwilliger Environmental Award

This year we are featuring the adorable, yet perpetually cranky-looking, Burrowing Owls, with a special talk by Jack Barclay, Senior Wildlife Biologist at Albion Environmental.

Photo © George Eade

Our host, Joe Mueller, will give a fascinating talk, and HOP will present an update on our work.

We are seeking sponsors and donors for this event! If you would like to be a sponsor or donor, at any level, please contact us.

Photos from our 1st Evening with Owls -2005

You'll have a screechin' good time!

Little Owl Who Lives in the Orchard

His beak could open a bottle,
and his eyes - when he lifts their soft lids -
go on reading something
just beyond your shoulder -
Blake, maybe,
or the Book of Revelation.

Never mind that he eats only
the black-smocked crickets,
and the dragonflies if they happen
to be out late over the ponds, and of course
the occasional festal mouse.
Never mind that he is only a memo
from the offices of fear -

it’s not size but surge that tells us
when we’re in touch with something real,
and when I hear him in the orchard
fluttering
down the little aluminum
ladder of his scream -
when I see his wings open, like two black ferns,

a flurry of palpitations
as cold as sleet
rackets across the marshlands
of my heart
like a wild spring day.

Somewhere in the universe,
in the gallery of important things,
the babyish owl, ruffled and rakish,
sits on its pedestal.
Dear, dark dapple of plush!
A message, reads the label,
from that mysterious conglomerate:
Oblivion and Co.
The hooked head stares
from its house of dark, feathery lace.
It could be a valentine.

Mary Oliver