Transition

With the autumn equinox came a notable change. The settled, warm weather we had come to expect has been replaced with something far less predictable. I have exchanged my shorts and thin cotton skirts for jeans and my cosily padded jacket now hangs by the door. Nature is also acting accordingly. The swallows and house martins have flown south. My only sightings are a fleeting glimpse of a straggler hunting the freshly turned fields, scouting for a final meal. As these birds depart I feel lucky to have a close encounter with a newly arrived short eared owl that chose to quarter the river close to the farm for a day or two. Soon my evenings will be punctuated with the sound of  the whooper and bewick swans flying from Scandinavia to winter in the fens. The sound of their joyful calling from the darkness is wonderful to witness.

Our barn owls do not have such drastic changes in their year but, they too, will have to accommodate some startling differences in the coming weeks. I am certain that the abundance of voles is coming to an end. As field after field is turned and cropped ready for next year and as the temperature steadily decreases the voles stop producing young in such prolific numbers. With the weather becoming less predictable the adult owls also need to hunt when they can rather than when they wish to. They are now showing well after dark which tells me they are hungry and so are their families.

I should, and indeed do, feel sympathetic to their plight but am also deeply thrilled, especially when they hear me whistle and fly through the farm lights to wait for me by the farm house. They haven't done this since May and I doubted I would see such behaviour this autumn. My heart sang as I recognised daddy owl perched in his usual position in the ash tree, glaring angrily at the other owls flying in eager anticipation. Some of these owls are new to me. I can tell by their uneasiness with me, but it does not stop them flying in, even when I have a visitor walking with me. They dare themselves to take from the platform, with wings held angel-like and talons outstretched and we are suitably impressed.

There is also a satisfaction in watching the female from the shed. She has a platform by the door and delights me each evening by appearing even as I walk across the farm. She eyes me warily before dropping down to peruse the food. To me it all looks the same but she chooses carefully before flying vertically upwards and diving deftly through the door gap. If I wait I can see her do this time and time again, glaring at me each time, until the platform is empty. The pair with the older brood on the dutch barn frame feed their family barely glancing in her direction. If the shed female has paired with our male he is not supporting her. I have yet to see a second bird take food in for this family and if she is rearing them on her own she will need as much help as she can get.

There is one bird who is not helping but hindering her. Each night, without fail, it flies into her platform as soon as I leave it and before she appears. Without pausing it takes food and flies off into the field. I have no idea where it is going but I am reminded of Mr Swoopy who often raided the farm in previous years to take food back across our fields to the south. Perhaps last night it came back after I had left. I watched two birds spar in the shed lights long after I had left the yard and I suspected this individual was feeling the wrath of daddy owl. I secretly admire this bird's bravado and resolve to defrost a couple more chicks each evening.

With the warmer weather fading the youngsters in the dutch barn box have become more reticent but they are also learning to stay well hidden and curb their curiosity.I begin to anticipate their imminent fledging but am still surprised to see a moon-like face peering at me from the straw on Thursday night. It is quite a distance from the box across to the straw stack and I approach the area in trepidation the following morning yet all appears well and I assume the owlet has returned to the box. However for the past two nights I have seen it again. I know the parents should feed fledglings but still I leave food in the straw. Whether it is the same owl or whether it is a different character exploring its immediate surroundings, whether it returns to the box or whether it roosts in the straw I cannot tell but I hope its story continues to be a happy one.Their transition from helpless owlets to fully fledged adults  has some serious challenges.

Autumn 2019 nest box checks

I have been disproportionately sad., in fact pathetically so. Every evening as I strode purposefully down to the farm I was reminded that the beehive brood had perished,  that is if they had even hatched at all. With the death of their mother it meant just one pair on the farm for the foreseeable future. My feelings were compounded by the lack of owls showing and I hungrily held on to the few sightings I had as Autumn mists and marmalade sunsets replaced the lengthy summer days.

Suddenly, as if someone had opened a cage into the indigo skyscape of the fens, the owls appeared. Paddy suggested this sudden change could be linked to a crash in the vole numbers. Although I continued to feed at dusk, a routine imperative to their nocturnal wanderings, their behaviour changed almost overnight. They were once again waiting for me. Perched on a shed apex, flying sideways from the straw, peering awkwardly from the roof struts and sitting bolt upright on the horizontals of the ash tree. Despite my pessimism I was not as bereft as I had allowed myself to believe.

                                                                What a find!!

There was something more. With their urgency to reach the food they were taking it away before I had rounded the dutch barn which was now heaving with the harvest of hay and straw. Most evenings I had to stand motionless as owls flew back and forth, hastily clearing the platforms clean in just minutes. Often they would see me and stare sternly at me before continuing, too intent to worry about my presence. But it was where they took the food that surprised me most of all. Yes, owls continued to relay food up to the youngsters I knew about in the dutch barn east box and their clattering and hissing reassured me they were healthy and thriving. It was the owls that I saw taking food into the shed that surprised me. I had assumed the female that turned the kestrels youngsters out of their nest box in July was from the shed and looking for a second nest site for her next brood. This activity seemed to point to a second brood also being fed in this first nest box the owls used for first broods in June.

I watched, captivated. Perhaps the first brood had returned when food became scarce yet my observations told me these were adult birds and the amount of food they offered into the shed was substantial. I was lost as to what was going on so when I heard that Paddy was coming to check the nest boxes I was delighted.

                                                            Look at this tummy!

He arrived mid morning and we headed straight down. On entering the shed a low, rhythmic hissing was evident. The nest box was after all occupied for a second time this season. Five white bundles of down were retrieved and taken to the truck to check. Two were too small to ring as this family was aged between twenty four and twelve days old but all of them had bulging tummies. It seemed as if they might need to unzip themselves or loosen a button somewhere to accommodate the large meals they had recently enjoyed. I was allowed to write notes whilst Paddy weighed and measured them. Barn owlets will lay still if placed on their backs. These two were laid in the truck and I was enthralled to see one clasp the others foot with its talons. It looked as if they were holding hands, comforting each other although I feel certain it was just grasping frantically at anything within its reach.

                                                                  Awh

Next we checked the east nest box where we knew the owlets were much bigger. They had taken to peering at me as I walked the dog close by and I had seen glimpses of almost fully formed wings. We watched from ground level as first one, then another were carefully extracted from the inspection hatch and placed in a cloth bag.  Five healthy owlets still sporting down on their heads and outer wings but with their rapidly growing feathers these beauties resembled the adult birds much more readily. These were aged between six and eight weeks.This brood of three males and two females didn't realise they were supposed to lay still on their backs whilst the check took place. They needed their eyes covering to keep them still and when we attempted to take this photo I was reminded of children in their first few days at school who aren't quite sure where they are expected to be and who would far rather follow their own initiative than comply.

                                                            Juggling owls
We checked the other two boxes which gave us no further clues. West nest box was empty and the beehive box had been taken by stock doves. I had hoped Paddy may glean clues from it but it seems our tragic female will keep her secrets, at least for now. We continued down the road to check two other sites less than half a mile from us. I will save these details for another blog as the visits were delightful. Needless to day Paddy was as happy as we were to find this abundance of next generation owls.

On returning to my house over tea and bacon butties we pondered dates. It was an impossibility that the beehive female who was our male birds original mate could have brooded either of these families before she died. There was definitely a third female on site.Whether she had her own mate or had been taken by our resident male as his third wifelet I cannot yet say. I will need to do some serious owl watching to try to make sense of such a conundrum. I will also need to watch closely as these young owls grow and become more active. I cannot say I am disappointed.