The Dubious Recovery of the Ever-Hidden Golden Owl

There’s an old adage that I’ve found myself using with increasing frequency over the last decade. The more he spoke of his honesty, the faster we counted our spoons. More and more figureheads seem to adhere to the notion that if you say something loud enough and long enough, people will believe you. To hear Michel Becker speak about last October’s conclusion of a 30-year-long treasure hunt he helped launch, you’d think that everyone who partook in the search is now joyously celebrating the end of their decades-long quest for a bejeweled golden owl. Yet, this is far from the case.

The Set Up

I first heard and wrote about the French-based treasure hunt in 2021, but the story began in 1993 when a man calling himself Max Valentin buried a bronze replica of a gold and silver statue somewhere in mainland France. A month later, he published a book containing eleven riddles, Sur la Trace de la Chouette d’Or. Valentin’s challenge seemed straightforward: be the first to solve all eleven riddles and you’d have what you needed to locate the replica. The first person to unearth the bronze copy and provide eleven correct solutions would win the gold and silver original, studded with precious stones and valued at one million francs.

Valentin, whose real name was Regis Hauser, was a marketing professional who needed a backer to fund the construction of the ultimate prize. Enter Michel Becker, a French artist who secured a loan of one million francs and then created the precious grand prize, a series of bronze replicas, and 11 illustrations (conceived by Hauser) that would provide further clues for each riddle. While Becker had been instrumental in launching the hunt, Hauser was the only person who knew the solutions to the riddles and the location of the buried replica.

The contest unleashed a torrent of armchair treasure hunters who searched and dug in every corner of France. Hauser, posing as Max Valentin, moderated an online forum where he monitored questions from treasure seekers at all hours of the day and night. He wasn’t about to give the solution away, but he often redirected chases that were heading down the wrong path. Then, in 2009, after a series of stressful legal battles, the 62-year-old Hauser, a.k.a. Valentin, died unexpectedly.

What? Where? Wait!

Overnight, the sole person who knew the replica’s whereabouts was gone. Fortunately, Hauser had the foresight to bequeath an envelope containing all of the solutions to his only son. Furthermore, the son and Hauser’s attorney, both of whom had no stake in the outcome of the treasure hunt, pledged to remain faithful to Hauser’s wishes. The envelope would only be opened when a prize winner showed up with the bronze copy in hand.

While Hauser’s son retained the solutions, Becker possessed the prize statue, which continued to increase in value. The hunt had been underway for over twenty years when, in 2014, Becker decided to put the golden owl up for auction. When the treasure seekers (known as chouetteurs) learned of his plan, they immediately filed legal proceedings to stop the sale. Becker agreed to respect the original promise of the hunt and withdrew the owl from the market, but many chouetteurs viewed his action as one of betrayal.

Growing Discord

After more than two decades of unfruitful searching, growing numbers of chouetteurs began to wonder if the golden owl had ever existed or if it might be hidden in a location that would never be discovered. In 2021, however, Becker obtained a copy of the hunt’s eleven solutions. He could now verify the exact location of the replica that Hauser had buried in 1993. He set up a new forum on Discord where he promised to offer guidance, much as Valentin once had.

In an unexpected twist, Becker claimed that while the solutions had indeed led him to Hauser’s original burial spot, he had failed to find the replica. (Becker had made several identical counterfeits, each of them numbered, and Hauser had buried replica #1.) Instead, he explained that upon digging, he’d uncovered a rusted metal duck!

Becker speculated that Hauser had probably replaced the buried bronze replica #1 with an inferior iron duck at some point. However, he gave no rationalization for why Hauser would bother to make such a switch. Not to worry, he assured the diehard treasure seekers. After digging up the iron duck, he buried bronze replica #2 in the exact same spot.

The chouetteur community immediately divided into two camps: loyal Becker supporters who felt indebted to him for reviving their quest, and a more skeptical crowd who thought Becker’s story contained too many suspicious elements. This latter group believed that replica #1 was still located where Hauser had placed it. If they could lay their hands on replica #1, before pro-Becker chouetteurs found replica #2, they would have proof that Becker was a fraud.

And the Winner Is…

Over the ensuing months, Becker doubters became increasingly skeptical. Many chouetteurs had thoroughly enjoyed working on Hauser’s sophisticated puzzles. They’d studied every word that Max Valentin had ever offered on the subject and noticed that Becker’s statements on Discord were sometimes at odds with clues provided by the contest’s creator.

Becker’s credibility was further weakened last fall when he announced that someone had finally solved the eleven puzzles and unearthed replica #2 on the night of October 2/3; that he, Becker, had verified the winning solution; and that the chouetteurs should lay down their shovels and STOP DIGGING. He would provide further details that evening.

Yet, more than a week ticked by while hundreds of chouetteurs waited anxiously to compare the contest’s official solutions with those that they’d come up with themselves. Had they been close to finding the owl? If not, where had they gone wrong? Did they know the winner? Perhaps they’d once interacted on Discord and played some small role in cracking the final riddle.

On October 13, Becker released a video announcement on YouTube in which he laid out a series of deeply unsatisfying claims:

• The winner would remain anonymous.
• The prized gold, silver, and bejeweled owl was no longer in France, off-limits to the public eye.
• Its location would not be revealed unless the new owner chose to do so.
• Another anonymous figure had offered to purchase the prized owl for 300,000 euros, but had been rejected.
• The eleven solutions to Hauser’s riddles would be revealed on April 23 or 24, 2025, the 32nd anniversary of the contest’s debut.
• The anniversary would also mark the launch of a new golden owl treasure hunt, this time entirely controlled by Becker.

To say that Becker may have mismanaged people’s expectations is an understatement. He went on to explain that he was working on a documentary film that would summarize the contest’s history, showcase the efforts of several devoted chouetteurs, and meticulously explain each of the eleven solutions. There was no display of contrition or acknowledgement that the lack of information was probably frustrating, just a promise that the documentary would be released in April 2025 and a request for chouetteurs to submit their most entertaining anecdotes for consideration in the film.

Accusations of Fraud

One frustrated chouetteur, Yvon Crolet, decided to take matters into his own hands. He created a blog where he posted excerpts from a book he was writing, La Chouette d’or, 30 ans d’arnaque. According to Crolet, the hunt for the golden owl was a hoax; there never was a buried replica. He disparaged Becker’s credibility, calling the co-creator’s explanations convoluted and intentionally misleading.

Acting in self-defense, Becker initiated an anti-defamation case against Crolet. He painted Crolet as a sore loser who was convinced that he alone had correctly solved all of the riddles. Becker said that when Crolet had gone to the location where he believed the owl must have been buried, he came up empty-handed. It was only then that Crolet began accusing Becker of fraud.

On April 30, a court sided with Becker and ordered Crolet to take down his blog, remove his book from the market, and pay various damages.

Better Late Than Never?

Again, Becker’s new documentary was released later than promised. However, on Friday, May 2, 2025, a group of chouetteurs crowded into a Paris theater to view the first of two screenings of the much-anticipated film. According to eyewitnesses, the audience was highly animated, reacting with chuckles, sighs, and bobbings of the head. Perhaps the most eagerly-awaited moment, however, came when the replica’s burial location was revealed. At that juncture, the pro-Becker chouetteurs stood and cheered while anti-Becker chouetteurs remained dumbfounded in their seats.

Becker made clear that Hauser’s quest, which had impassioned thousands of participants for over three decades, ended outside the village of Dabo. Even members of the pro-Becker camp later admitted that this solution was disappointing. Since the hunt’s debut in 1993, riddle crackers had concluded that the bronze owl was buried outside a forest near Dabo.

Hundreds (if not thousands) of people had dug and re-dug, surveyed and re-surveyed, scanned and re-scanned with powerful metal detectors, often returning for multiple attempts. As one man put it, I’ve picnicked and pissed on the exact spot where the owl was buried.

Everyone was expecting a sort of super solution—multi-layered and sophisticated. Over the years, the chouetteurs had come to believe that their lack of progress was due to Hauser’s genius. Yet, here was the simplest of explanations. In addition, one had to wonder how the treasure survived undetected in the most battered and buffeted hunting ground of the contest’s history.

As if to dispel objections in advance, Becker explained that the replica was buried 80 cm deep (which isn’t deep enough to go undetected) and that it lay beneath a huge stone that the prizewinner had great difficulty in dislodging.

Nothing Ends that Doesn’t End Well

For the first time, Becker claimed that the replica was found by two people working together. They each lived outside France but in different countries. After meeting online they’d agreed to join forces. Becker reiterated, however, that both winners insisted upon anonymity. Perhaps some audience members were reassured by the testimony of one of these prizewinners. He appeared in the film wearing a ski mask, his voice disguised.

Becker’s troubles are far from over. Aside from the unlikely detail that the replica escaped detection for thirty-plus years, experienced chouetteurs have also noticed inconsistencies in the unveiled solutions. An organization of chouetteurs has filed a lawsuit accusing Becker of several acts of fraud.

Sometimes I think this story is never going to end, and that I’ll be posting updates as long as I have a blog. Might it be that the hardest things to put to rest are things that never existed in the first place? If you, dear reader, happen to have participated in this eternally problematic quest, I’d love to know what you think. As always, I welcome all comments and corrections.