Attempting to recall who it was that said obsession wasn't cute, SFist Nico, your Barrespondent-on-the-scene, gets his answer tenfold this week.

Knowing very little about why people obsess over the things they do, this tongue-thick reporter believes the owl isn't a bad choice when you come right down to it. We've always had a bit of thing for the wide-eyed, rat-eating, bird of prey. Maybe it's because of the old Tootsie Roll Pop mascot (three licks, baby), or that they grace the bosom of every Hooter's waitress in the America, or that Bubo, the bumbling robot owl from Clash of the Titans just made that movie.

Still, if Harry Potter is any indication, the world has a bit of a thing for owls. Take Bobby, the devoted owner of The Owl Tree at 601 Post St. Before Harry Potter was in diapers, the Coach from Cheers lookalike loved himself some owls. And like all good people that don't know when to quit, Bobby went perhaps a stitch too far, filling every crack and crevice of his downtown tavern with more owls than you can possibly imagine. A testament to mania run amok, the Owl Tree reminds you that your measly fascination with porcelain figurines doesn't come close to the grand-style zealotry of a true believer.

SFist Nico, contributing.

Whatever. Inside the habitat we felt quite at home, even with the hundreds of giant glassy eyes looking down on us and our vices from above. Beneath owls of every kind, from wooden to waxy, glass to glockenspiel, candles to crepe paper, the patronage was happy to relax under deep red lights, butts nesting comfortably in vinyl chairs, low tables just begging for more glasses, a parade of classics shimmying from the juke non-stop.

Even though the barkeep scowls and grunts at you, the drinks are well-placed, progressing further towards the stiff as the evening wears on. And while a sassy hottie in a tanktop he isn't, he gets the job done, and is endearlingly curmudgeonly all the while.

Small enough to be intimate but big enough to fit a Saturday night scene, you can't argue with a complimentary bowl of table snax and a Wetnap dropped in front of you just when you needed it. It'll get you wondering, after passing the place a million times why you never once wandered in. Overlooking all your favorite highrises from its perch on Post, the Owl Tree just might end up being your go-to joint when you want to prove to your out-of-town friends that San Francisco's notorious obsessions are in fact nothing more than charming peccadillo.