The hardest thing about caring for something is the letting go and that is where we currently are with the owls. These youngsters fledged the nest in September and have been lucky enough to stay on site through winter and this winter here in the Fens this year has been tough. We've had our usual share of storms but this season its the harsh temperatures that have made things particularly difficult. Last year, I could count the frosty mornings we had on one hand. This year, since Christmas, we have had two or three each week. Although we've not had so much rain, we have had misty weather which leave the grass as soggy as rainfall and makes hunting tricky. As February progresses, the weather is not yet improving but the lengthening days mean the adults are thinking of pairing up and these young owls will soon be leaving.
Owl feeding in January is my very favourite time of the year. Because of the conditions they are super keen and show really well. I am regularly met by seven owls flying low over and perching on the sheds waiting for me. They fly out of the open sheds during the worst weather and circle between the dutch barn and the combine shed. They come out of the straw and wait in the various trees nearly out of reach of my torch. They've even taken to waiting on the farm house itself either using the chimney or the television aerial as their vantage point.
My oldest female always flies in first. She knows me so well she doesn't fly away however close I walk to her and when I throw the first handful of food onto the shed roof, I wait for the familiar "clunk" that tells me she has taken her share. If not. I end up hitting her with handfuls of day old chicks as she is unbelievably keen. Once I've moved over to the second feeding platform which is about ten metres away the other adults fly in too. The youngsters are distinguished by their reluctance to come too close and fly back and forth willing me to leave. Once I've walked towards the grain store I can see them flying in, wings held high and talons outstretched,to take the food off to their roosts.
But just as signs of spring begin to appear there are subtle changes in the owl's behaviour. There is certainly more screeching occurring at feeding time. I assume this is the adults warning the youngsters that this is their patch and they are welcome for just a short while longer but it could also be the youngsters testing their maturity. With the atmosphere being far less amenable now and I begin to notice more movement from the young owls. One is beginning to roost in empty sheds close by, still close enough to visit the farm but certainly off site. Another is often to be seen along the river hunting the deep sides and waiting on the fence posts as it hunts for itself. I see another flying close to the road during rush hour, flying haphazardly back and forth among the traffic. I hear myself muttering to it to head back to the safety of the farm and find myself slowing down to slow the rest of the traffic too. Later that evening I make a detour on a journey to check for casualties, and when I feed I am relieved to see my magnificent seven fly in as usual, however, the incident stays with me.
I've protected these beautiful birds all winter. I've provided food and shelter but now, despite what I want to happen, nature will take control. Their instincts will take over and they will look for territories of their own. Its incredibly hard to know that they face so many uncertainties as they brave the wider world. As I drive across Fenland and see an owl hunting I will always wonder whether it is "one of mine." When the weather closes in I will think of them hungry and when I see larger birds hunting the dykes and ditches I will think of my much slighter owls coming up against such opposition. But it is not all doom and gloom. I imagine them pairing up with a mate and rearing a family and of them finding a territory as safe and accommodating as our farm. In these times of transition I am truly proud that they have found their wings.
