Just a few days back I knew the owlets fledging was imminent as they popped back and forth from the nest box at feeding time. They danced and weaved, stamped their feet and scuffled. These were fully fledged owls ready to join their parents gliding across the farm yard. The adult bird's behaviour told me that their youngsters would soon be out too. Instead of my usual fly past they were screeching at me and far more hostile. I have seen this each year when the youngsters are on the cusp of leaving the nest box. The owls have worked hard to rear their broods and are anxious and understandably protective. I recognised their anxiety and swiftly left the farm.
The realisation that they are actually out of the nest box happens during a daylight sighting when a slight movement in the straw stack alerts me to a youngster that has got out of the nest box and roosted in between the bales. It is not at all happy to be seen and has no idea how to hide away and so sits stock still pretending it just isn't there. This one is female. A far more confident male leaps about in the roof space scaling the bales with ease, apparently unaware that I can see it. I continue on my dog walk and take a different route back to give it space and not cause any distress. This scenario happens for a few days until the youngsters learn to tuck themselves away and stay hidden until after dark.
Now that I know they are out, I walk down at dusk and sit quietly to see where the youngsters are appearing from and perhaps to find out how many there are. The full moon is looming over the hedgerow to the east, illuminating the sodden ground. Standing by the huge straw stack in the field I have views of both nest boxes and I am not the only one watching. The little owls have appeared and one is perched on the shed door staring indignantly across the yard. It is not impressed with these brave, new interlopers and watches from the shadows. Barn owls appear as if by magic. Often I don't see where they come from but suddenly they are there, floating across the yard or moving in the straw. There appears to be little activity over by the beehive box but I know there are owls out in the trees because the blackbirds are constantly calling in alarm, a sure sign that an owl is close. I take my cue from the little owl and I too move into the shadows of the grain store but I am instantly rumbled. A barn owl appears on the shed right next to me and stares incredulously at me as if it cannot believe that I have the audacity to be there, and with no food either! It gives one almighty shriek and I admit defeat and head home.
At feeding time I am greeted far more enthusiastically. I can hear the owls hissing as I reach the gate. Some of the owlets clamour to get back inside the nest box because, I suppose, they still associate this with food. Other fly rather shakily around the straw while more perch in the nearby trees. Occasionally there is a half-formed screech as one of the youngsters can't make up its mind whether I am friend or foe. The shed has, by now, also become a favoured roost. One night an owl leaves the back of the shed as I approach whilst last night, one popped its head out of the gap above the door once I started to throw the food onto the roof. They are beyond comical to watch and I walk down with a smile on my face each evening in anticipation of what these beautiful babies will get up to next.
Of course there is a worrying aspect to their fledging so late in the season. I am guessing there are three or four owlets from both broods now roosting in the yard. That's potentially ten owls plus the little owls and the kestrels. The weather has been unseasonably wet and whilst I will continue to feed the owls, it is difficult for them to gain their independence and begin to hunt for themselves in such wet weather. I am hoping for a settled spell so that these resilient little hunters can fend for themselves. In the meantime I have some spectacularly entertaining evenings ahead of me.
