Mystery.

 It finally feels as if the worst of the winter is over. The sun is gaining strength as the days lengthen and the birds are beginning to sing. There's a nostalgia to these early awakenings. Even when we hadn't acknowledged that they were missing, their return is so very welcome. On the river, our swans send their final cygnet on its way as they begin their courtship and look forward to a new family very soon, and so it is with the owls.

This winter the rain has been incessant. Figures from the North Level drainage board show that in our region we've had the wettest winter since 1832 when recorded rainfall was 393 mm. This year from October to February they recorded 462 mm. This is terrible news for Barn Owls who rely on dry weather to hunt. The constant flooding also means that they main prey, field voles, will be impacted. I suspect that this is why the adults tolerated the autumn youngsters well into February when they would normally send them away from the farm in soon after Christmas. I did my best to support them by putting out plenty of food and hoping that this would lessen any rivalry but I knew that the evenings of listening to them hissing at me from the straw were coming to an end.

It was during this transition from the shelter of the farm that we seemed to have lost another of the youngsters. I saw a buff coloured, shape high up in the straw stack in the field. Looking through my binoculars I felt almost certain it was the lifeless body of a barn owl, face down with its wings spread out. The body was too high for me to retrieve and all I could do was guess what might have happened to it. Predation by a fox was obviously discounted due to where the body lay. Starvation was also unlikely as an owl that had grown weak would hide away rather than sit out in the open. Although our farm itself is safe from poison, I couldn't rule out the fact that an opportunistic youngster could have picked up a poisoned mouse elsewhere which might have explained it being out in the open. Similarly had it been injured, perhaps in a traffic collision it may have returned to the farm before sadly perishing. As I walked Max and pondered its fate, I saw the buzzards growing ever more territorial as they too, thought of nesting in the near future. They stood tall and proud on the straw stack, surveying the area and I recognised the risk they can pose. I also watched the crows tumbling upwards and spiraling round the straw stack. We've lost a young owl to a mob of crows many moons back so I know that either of these species could mean trouble for a weak, injured or vulnerable young owl.

Then a thought occurred to me. What if the owl that had perished was our adult female? She is in her thirteenth year here and surely cannot last forever. That same evening I took my camera down and snapped shots of the owls as they flew in. I recognised her immediately; distinguished by the way she sat patiently and waited for me and this was confirmed by the ring on her right leg. I really shouldn't have favourites, but I was so relieved to see her. 

I now see four, five sometimes six owls at feeding time and feel certain that any remaining youngsters are no longer roosting here. One morning an owl dropped out of the holly tree along the farm drive as I returned to our house. It flew towards the beehives and I watched in astonishment. That same evening I waited after feeding time to see an owl harried away by another. They circled and turned just above my head like two ice skaters in a starlit duet and although there was no screeching I sensed the hostility between them. I hope if they are desperate they can snatch some food at an inopportune moment but more than that, I hope the weather settles to allow them their independence.

I watch the remaining owls avidly. The females are still showing but ours lay eggs in early March and I know that any day now they will disappear. I search for clues as to their chosen nest sites. Last year they chose the boxes on the dutch barn yet this year two regularly leave the combine shed and others fly across to the beehive box.  I will enjoy the little guessing game that awaits me in the next few weeks.

As for the sad demise of the straw stack owl? I walk down with my camera a week or more after first seeing the body and snap a photo. Looking at the photo I cannot be certain that it even is an owl after all.