On a rainy spring morning, huddled under the shelter of an ancient cedar, Jared Hobbs hoots, whoops and squawks. In years past, he could lure curious owls by drawing on his extensive repertoire. Among them are the whoo whoo whoo whooo territorial calls, alarm barks and a simple “helicopter” breeding call that coo coo coo coos into the air. The calls bounce through the thick stand of trees and dissolve into the vast British Columbia rainforest. Hobbs doesn’t wait for a response. Only on