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04 July 2025 | Story Martinette Brits | Photo Ruan Higgs, Van Tonder Photography, and Tanya Scherman
Barn Owl
A quiet presence with a powerful impact – the barn owls nesting in the UFS Sasol Library have become unexpected ambassadors for conservation, inspiring hands-on research, community care, and a deeper connection between people and nature.

High above the shelves and silent study spaces of the Sasol Library at the University of the Free State (UFS), a quiet conservation success story is unfolding. A pair of barn owls have been nesting in the library’s roof space – raising chicks, hunting on campus grounds, and becoming an unexpected symbol of ecological balance and cross-departmental collaboration.

More than just a charming tale of urban wildlife, their presence is also prompting reflection on the evolving purpose of academic spaces.

Prof Vasu Reddy, Deputy Vice-Chancellor: Research and Internationalisation, whose portfolio includes libraries, sees the owls as part of something much deeper. “If we consider Shakespeare’s play, All’s Well That Ends Well, then the presence of the owls in the Sasol Library confirms another meaning of that play.”

“Love,” Prof Reddy says, “is not always considered noble, but is something persistent, and our library is not just a building, but a living ecosystem where precious documents, people, and even animals can interact, shape, and nurture our lives.”

The owls had been observed roosting at the library since 2016, but their fate took a turn in 2023 when a distressed owl was spotted outside the building. Tanya Scherman from the Centre for Teaching and Learning was the first to respond. “It appeared that the owl had been poisoned, most likely secondary poisoning from a contaminated rodent,” she explains. That moment became the catalyst for a grassroots conservation initiative – one that brought together concerned staff, students, and wildlife researchers.

“I phoned around trying to find more knowledgeable people who could help,” says Scherman. “I consulted with a local vet, the Owl Rescue Centre in Pretoria, and Prof Francois Deacon from our Faculty of Natural and Agricultural Sciences. I wanted to know how we could keep the owls safe on campus.”

Prof Deacon, who lectures in the Department of Animal Sciences, immediately saw the potential. “As someone passionate about urban wildlife conservation, I saw a great opportunity – not just to support the owls, but to involve students in hands-on learning,” he says. “These projects offer rare chances to study natural animal behaviour in real time, outside the confines of a lab.”

Together with his postgraduate students, Ruan Higgs and Kaitlyn Taylor, the team assessed the owls’ behaviour and advised on the design of a suitable nesting structure. They also installed a motion-triggered, infrared field camera to monitor the owls’ activity safely and without disruption.

But first, the nesting box had to be built. That part of the project became unexpectedly personal. “I worked with my dad to build it,” says Scherman. “He’s an avid animal lover too, and we spent a weekend sawing, sanding, and assembling the box using a blueprint we found online.” With the help of Prof Deacon’s team, the completed structure was carried up into the roof space and secured on a ledge that the owls already favoured. “It was such a special moment to share with my family,” she adds.

 

A window into wildlife on campus

Scherman and Prof Deacon’s efforts have already yielded encouraging results. In 2023, a breeding pair successfully raised two owlets. “This year we found six eggs,” Scherman shares. “Of those, we are currently able to see three owlets.”

For Prof Deacon and his students, the camera has opened a window into the birds’ world. “It captures feeding events, chick development, and parental behaviour,” he explains. “This kind of passive monitoring is invaluable – it provides long-term data without human interference.” The footage has already formed the basis of student research into owl diet, chick growth, and even nesting material preferences – insights that could guide future conservation projects both at the UFS and beyond.

“These owls are teaching tools,” he says. “They bring textbooks to life for students studying ecology, animal behaviour, and sustainable land use.” He adds that the project also demonstrates how scientific knowledge can directly benefit local ecosystems. “It shows that biodiversity and human development can coexist with the right approach. Even a university library can become a habitat.”

Barn owls also play a practical ecological role on campus. “A single owl pair can eat hundreds of rodents in a breeding season, reducing the need for poisons and pesticides,” says Prof Deacon. And it’s not just rodents. “We found remains of small birds and insects in their regurgitated pellets,” Scherman notes, “which shows just how active and adaptive they are in an urban environment.”

Still, their survival is not guaranteed. Urban owls face risks ranging from road traffic to poisoning. “If you ever find an injured owl or have concerns, don’t try to help it yourself,” Scherman advises. “Rather contact Prof Deacon or me. We’re here to assist.”

“Awareness builds respect,” Prof Deacon adds. “When people know that these owls are quietly raising a family above their heads, it shifts how they interact with the space. We ask people to avoid making loud noises or using flash photography near the nesting site. Simple behaviours, such as keeping windows closed at night near the roost, go a long way towards protecting them.”

 

A library as a living ecosystem

As the project gained momentum, so did its symbolic weight across campus. Prof Reddy reflects on how a seemingly disruptive moment became something much more valuable:

“It is clear that what may be seen as a disruptive incident with an owl swooping into our library space is also a pedagogical and deeply conservation touchdown.”

For Prof Reddy “it inspires us to bring science and the love of books to become a teachable opportunity. If libraries are stereotypically perceived to be the quiet corner of academia, then our barn owl event tells us that our library is also a space where silence meets storytelling. The barn owls sparked a conversation about nature, knowledge, and care. It tells us that our library has become an ecosystem of compassion, where not simply books and knowledge matter, but where every creature’s story has a rightful place. This event has mobilised so many different parts of both the university and external communities. We are greatly inspired”.

 

Changing perceptions, protecting heritage

The project also touched on a deeper cultural significance. Owls are often misunderstood, linked to myths or fear in some communities. “It’s understandable,” Scherman says, “with their eerie calls, white faces, and ghost-like flight. But they are also messengers, protectors, and symbols of wisdom in many traditions.”

She believes education is key to changing these perceptions: “Let us embrace the opportunity to coexist respectfully with nature and wildlife. The presence of owls among us is a living testament to the rich biodiversity that thrives even in urban spaces.”

For Scherman, the project was far more than a conservation effort. It was a passion project rooted in her own family history. “My grandparents also had a special connection to owls, so this felt very close to home,” she says. “Observing their habits and individuality made me feel like their caretaker. When we saw the baby owlets, I naturally felt like I was being promoted to an owl-granny!”

Prof Deacon reflects on how the project has enriched campus relationships. “What’s been most rewarding was how many people came together around this – from librarians to students to scientists. We built friendships, not just a nest box.” He adds that librarian Hesma van Tonder even joined one of their giraffe capture excursions. “That kind of connection – between research and real-life adventure – is what makes conservation come alive.”

Looking ahead, he hopes that this project will inspire more cross-campus initiatives. “We’re exploring green corridors, rooftop biodiversity zones, and opportunities to conserve other species such as bats and pollinators,” he says. “It’s only the beginning. Hopefully, other departments such as Zoology and Botany can also come on board in the future.”

 

A space for stories – and for nature

As the owls continue to thrive above the Sasol Library’s quiet corners, their presence invites the university to see its own spaces differently – as places where knowledge, nature, and compassion can coexist.

Prof Reddy reflects on this shared journey:

“The owls invited themselves because they were disoriented and distressed. As a caring university, we demonstrate through our tangible actions that their arrival further ignites our curiosity as a university with a heart. In this way, our library shows how we connect to the world by sheltering not just precious books and knowledge, but that we are an important ecosystem of empathy. Our aspirations for research excellence and impact gains new ground as a vehicle for innovation, equity, and community. My heartfelt appreciation goes out to all our colleagues who are working tirelessly on their thoughtful and dedicated interventions.”

And in closing, he offers a final reflection on what this small but meaningful story reveals about the university’s future:

“If our university matters and is to remain meaningful, our accidental visitors have given new impetus to the fact that our library space holds our stories, and they are making places for new ones as part of our responsible societal futures.”


News Archive

Media: Sunday Times
2006-05-20

Sunday Times, 4 June 2006

True leadership may mean admitting disunity
 

In this edited extract from the inaugural King Moshoeshoe Memorial Lecture at the University of the Free State, Professor Njabulo S Ndebele explores the leadership challenges facing South Africa

RECENT events have created a sense that we are undergoing a serious crisis of leadership in our new democracy. An increasing number of highly intelligent, sensitive and committed South Africans, across class, racial and cultural spectrums, confess to feeling uncertain and vulnerable as never before since 1994.

When indomitable optimists confess to having a sense of things unhinging, the misery of anxiety spreads. We have the sense that events are spiralling out of control and that no one among the leadership of the country seems to have a definitive handle on things.

There can be nothing more debilitating than a generalised and undefined sense of anxiety in the body politic. It breeds conspiracies and fear.

There is an impression that a very complex society has developed, in the last few years, a rather simple, centralised governance mechanism in the hope that delivery can be better and more quickly driven. The complexity of governance then gets located within a single structure of authority rather than in the devolved structures envisaged in the Constitution, which should interact with one another continuously, and in response to their specific settings, to achieve defined goals. Collapse in a single structure of authority, because there is no robust backup, can be catastrophic.

The autonomy of devolved structures presents itself as an impediment only when visionary cohesion collapses. Where such cohesion is strong, the impediment is only illusory, particularly when it encourages healthy competition, for example, among the provinces, or where a province develops a character that is not necessarily autonomous politically but rather distinctive and a special source of regional pride. Such competition brings vibrancy to the country. It does not necessarily challenge the centre.

Devolved autonomy is vital in the interests of sustainable governance. The failure of various structures to actualise their constitutionally defined roles should not be attributed to the failure of the prescribed governance mechanism. It is too early to say that what we have has not worked. The only viable corrective will be in our ability to be robust in identifying the problems and dealing with them concertedly.

We have never had social cohesion in South Africa — certainly not since the Natives’ Land Act of 1913. What we definitely have had over the decades is a mobilising vision. Could it be that the mobilising vision, mistaken for social cohesion, is cracking under the weight of the reality and extent of social reconstruction, and that the legitimate framework for debating these problems is collapsing? If that is so, are we witnessing a cumulative failure of leadership?

I am making a descriptive rather than an evaluative inquiry. I do not believe that there is any single entity to be blamed. It is simply that we may be a country in search of another line of approach. What will it be?

I would like to suggest two avenues of approach — an inclusive model and a counter-intuitive model of leadership.

In an inclusive approach, leadership is exercised not only by those who have been put in some position of power to steer an organisation or institution. Leadership is what all of us do when we express, sincerely, our deepest feelings and thoughts; when we do our work, whatever it is, with passion and integrity.

Counter-intuitive leadership lies in the ability of leaders to read a problematic situation, assess probable outcomes and then recognise that those outcomes will only compound the problem. Genuine leadership, in this sense, requires going against probability in seeking unexpected outcomes. That’s what happened when we avoided a civil war and ended up with an “unexpected” democracy.

Right now, we may very well hear desperate calls for unity, when the counter-intuitive imperative would be to acknowledge disunity. A declaration of unity where it manifestly does not appear to exist will fail to reassure.

Many within the “broad alliance” might have the view that the mobilising vision of old may have transformed into a strategy of executive steering with a disposition towards an expectation of compliance. No matter how compelling the reasons for that tendency, it may be seen as part of a cumulative process in which popular notions of democratic governance are apparently undermined and devalued; and where public uncertainty in the midst of seeming crisis induces fear which could freeze public thinking at a time when more voices ought to be heard.

Could it be that part of the problem is that we are unable to deal with the notion of opposition? We are horrified that any of us could be seen to have become “the opposition”. The word has been demonised. In reality, it is time we began to anticipate the arrival of a moment when there is no longer a single, overwhelmingly dominant political force as is currently the case. Such is the course of history. The measure of the maturity of the current political environment will be in how it can create conditions that anticipate that moment rather than seek to prevent it. We see here once more the essential creativity of the counter-intuitive imperative.

This is the formidable challenge of a popular post-apartheid political movement. Can it conceptually anticipate a future when it is no longer overwhelmingly in control, in the form in which it is currently, and resist, counter-intuitively, the temptation to prevent such an eventuality? Successfully resisting such an option would enable its current vision and its ultimate legacy to our country to manifest in different articulations, which then contend for social influence. In this way, the vision never really dies; it simply evolves into higher, more complex forms of itself. Consider the metaphor of flying ants replicating the ant community by establishing new ones.

We may certainly experience the meaning of comradeship differently, where we will now have “comrades on the other side”.

Any political movement that imagines itself as a perpetual entity should look at the compelling evidence of history. Few movements have survived those defining moments when they should have been more elastic, and that because they were not, did not live to see the next day.

I believe we may have reached a moment not fundamentally different from the sobering, yet uplifting and vision-making, nation-building realities that led to Kempton Park in the early ’90s. The difference between then and now is that the black majority is not facing white compatriots across the negotiating table. Rather, it is facing itself: perhaps really for the first time since 1994. Could we apply to ourselves the same degree of inventiveness and rigorous negotiation we displayed leading up to the adoption or our Constitution?

This is not a time for repeating old platitudes. It is the time, once more, for vision.

In the total scheme of things, the outcome could be as disastrous as it could be formative and uplifting, setting in place the conditions for a true renaissance that could be sustained for generations to come.

Ndebele is Vice-Chancellor of the University of Cape Town and author of the novel The Cry of Winnie Mandela

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