Winter wonders

 The Fens are at their best in the winter. I tend to think that these big skies and vast open spaces are best appreciated during the colder months when the greys and browns of reeds and rushes are backlit by the setting sun. We are also lucky enough to have a myriad of winter migrants join us across these flat fields and among them are the Short-eared owls.

I adore watching these birds. They appear as if from nowhere, flapping those huge wings in an almost lazy fashion, and meandering from side to side. Facially they are beautiful with ear tufts that give them their name and the most remarkable yellow eyes that are lined with a smokey darkness and indicate that these owls are diurnal and hunt at dawn and dusk.

We've always had Short-eared owls on the farm. My late brother in law often told me how they disturbed them from the tussocky grass each winter when the dykes and ditches were dredged and cleared. In more recent times my son remembers going for a run and having one of these beauties fly alongside him, and so of course, each winter when I walk across the fields I keep a keen eye out for them.

I first saw them this year in October. They are clever birds, and always one step ahead of me. My first sighting was close to the straw stack when an owl was hunting from the parked up digger. It flew in front of me as I walked making sure I was always a suitable distance away. If it landed on the dyke side, it was immediately hidden, if it watched me from the field I had to keep an eye on it or it would have blended in against the dark clay. We walked a complete circuit of the field like this with the owl tantalisingly close but always a safe distance away until it ended up where it began, perched on the digger bucket and I left it to hunt in peace.

After this first encounter I saw Short-eared owls on a regular basis. I say owls because there were at least two hunting the field borders and margins. They would suddenly lift up from the dyke edge and fly ahead of me. It seemed that when I walked without my camera they would fly close and perch nearby yet when I took my camera down with me they either never appeared or simply stayed two fields away. They quickly became my nemesis this year making me even more determined to capture a good photo before the winter was through.

However before too long my owl watching was interrupted by more of our winter migrants. First the Whooper swans came to feed upon the sugar beet that had been harvested next to the farm quickly followed by pink footed geese. Although we have been lucky enough to have the swans for a number of years, pink footed geese were a new species for us and they were impressive as they numbered a few hundred. I loved watching them swirl in each morning and the sound they made was incredible. Whether it was swans or geese it meant that I walked a different route in order not to disturb them. This meant that for the majority of the winter I also avoided the best area for the Short-eared owls. I do however remember one memorable occasion when the geese took flight and as I busied myself taking shots of the action a Short-eared owl flew up from the grass right in front of me. My camera was set wrong and all I could do was gaze in awe as it flapped across the field and disappeared over the hedge

The swans have flown now, the geese have too I suppose and so, during late February and into March I have kept a look out for the owls. I know that they will also soon be leaving for the moors and I rather hoped for that photo. My last sighting was on March 5th when I suddenly realised an owl was hunting from a post just a few metres away but since then, nothing. That was until this afternoon when I took an impromptu walk across the grass field and Max put up a Short-eared owl that flew over onto the ploughed field to watch us indignantly. As we walked closer it flew across two fields and watched us from the hedgerow. The sun was beautiful so I decide to take Max home and return with my camera. I was only absent for five minutes but in that time the owl had returned to the rough grass and I had missed my chance. Rather than risk disturbing it a second time I returned home.

There was, however, a winner in the whole affair. When I left Max at our house I gave him his tea. Before I returned Rob arrived home and Max asked for his tea again. Much to his delight was given a second one. I am sure he will be hoping the Short-eared owls stay just a little longer.

The Magnificent Seven.

 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.

Winter owls.

 2025 will be my fourteenth year of feeding the owls on our farm. I still vividly remember that first winter when I walked down in all weathers, when snow covered the bales and danced in my torchlight and when more than one storm buffeted the yard from all directions and sent me tumbling home to the warmth of the wood burner.

My project may not have got to its fourteenth year had I not decided to stay back one evening the following spring to realise that, once they thought I had left, owls appeared from all directions to take the food I'd given them. It was a breathtaking discovery to find that they were so close by and so quick to fly in. 

I adore walking down each evening but each season gifts me something a little different and despite it being the coldest and most inhospitable time to walk, late winter is often the most rewarding. The harsh conditions mean that the owls are keenest. They wait in the trees for me. If I am late they fly down the road towards me and my whistling call sends them spiraling upwards from the farm buildings. The youngsters from the autumn brood have been allowed to stay in situ through the worst of the weather and I have fun picking out which ones are the youngsters and which are our established adults.Our oldest female waits upon the shed roof and is always first to fly in. I'm not sure if she is bravest and showing the others it is safe to take the food or whether there is some sort of pecking order that means she gets first choice of the offerings. The situation here is so unusual it is difficult to tell which scenario is most likely.

The youngsters wait further away in the trees to the east and the west. I make sure there will be enough food for these inexperienced birds as they arguably need it the most. I feel a tenderness towards these beauties as they fly back and forth, willing me to leave so they too can take their share of the food. They do not know that within weeks they will be ousted and looking for territories of their own. When this happens, on every trip across the fens, I will be keenly watching for them. When I see Barn Owls ghosting the ditches and road sides, I will be wondering if each one was one of the beauties I've been lucky enough to watch all winter.

Sometimes they are keener than others.They'll be hungrier after wind and rain but over the years I have come to recognise that they fly in the bravest when rain is building. This week four birds flew in within touching distance, taking the food before I had chance to step away. It is breathtaking and humbling and awe-inspiring to be in the company of owls such as these.

I have no idea what 2025 will bring. Will the weather be kind to the owls? Will our adults avoid the numerous hazards and stay safe? Will their be plenty of prey to sustain their broods and how many owlets will we rear? One thing is sure, I will show up for these birds each evening and help them when I can. Thank you for being part of my journey too.

Hanging on.

 Its a while since I last blogged but when I did, I queried whether the autumn owlets would hang around this winter having fledged so early. I am pleased to report that they have. The adults have tolerated these young adults which is a great help to the youngsters who can stay on familiar territory and help themselves to food during the harshest of weathers. 

It is still possible to see the two distinct broods across the farm. The beehive family are roosting in the combine shed with our original parent birds. They fly over to the house or wait in the open sheds to the east of the feeding platforms. I see them through the shed lights or pick them up in my torch beam waiting in the trees in the field. They take food from the shed roof and fly back in the direction of the natal nest site to eat their cache. The experienced female usually flies in first and I know the youngsters are hers as they sometimes chase after her for the food she has taken even though there is plenty left for them. These birds are exceptionally brave and wait close to me but when I try to take some, my photos are disappointing because the roof is simply too high to get a good shot of them. I remember in 2018 when I fed them close to the house and I would have to flail the torch around wildly to keep them at bay as I ran to get positioned with my camera. Those were some of my best action shots but now I am content to know they are fed and have shelter.

The west nest box owlets still favour the straw and the nest boxes secured under the dutch barn eaves. I see these owls high in the rooftops especially on windy evenings. They also wait in the trees to the west that are adjacent to the box they were reared in. They dive and swoop close to the straw but also join the other owls and take food from the shed roof without any animosity. I've also watched one bird that checks out a feeding station at the far end of the dutch barn that I haven't used in years. I am unsure whether it simply recognises it as similar to the others or whether it remembers food being left there. This was the original platform from 2012 and I would love to know if this bird actually fed from it. If so it is a good few years old and another owl to rival our original female in longevity.

We have had a substantial amount of hay moved over the past couple of weeks. I know the owls are roosting between the  warm bales because there are holes that have been smoothed around the edges and are a perfect owl shape and size. I had been watching an especially low bolthole and felt sure it was used by the little owls, but when the bales were moved I was surprised to find barn owl feathers and pellets left behind. Max thinks this is all terrific and wastes no time eating any pellets he gets to before me!!

Early one morning this week, a customer came for a number of bales and a very light male flew from its hay roost and over the field to a nearby ash tree. It wasn't happy and fairly swiftly flew back to the nest box but there was too much noise and it lost its nerve. It headed back to the tree accompanied by daddy kestrel who was still waiting to fly in for breakfast and was none too pleased to see an owl out. More worryingly, we now have a buzzard waiting in the trees each morning. I'm not sure if it is hoping for food but I would rather not have one of my naive young barn owls out at the same time. I left the yard with my nerves on edge but was followed soon after by the machinery leaving the farm. The yard was quiet once more and the owl could find another cosy nook until dusk fell once more.

In the past few weeks the owls have contended with their first storm in the form of Storm Bert and they have experienced snow and more frosty nights than we had last winter entirely. We've had rainy nights in succession which is never welcome but also some mild and still conditions in which they can learn to hunt for themselves. Twice I have driven along the top bank and seen an owl hunting the grass verges. I was also lucky enough to get an afternoon viewing of  a very light male bird a couple of miles from ours. These birds could easily be some of our youngsters. They could also be potential mates for ours as they begin to disperse later in the winter. I have however, a few weeks more to enjoy watching these special birds and I mean to enjoy it to the full.

Finding their wings.

 Its nearly two months now since our second broods fledged and I am interested to see how long they'll stay at the farm. First brood fledglings leave after just a few, short weeks, but our second brood families stay for most of the winter. This occurs however, when they fledge in October. Fledging in August means they could well behave like the summer owlets instead and disperse earlier to find their own roosts across the fens.

I have witnessed some truly fabulous fly pasts this autumn. As the sun melts below the horizon and lights the skies with orange hues, the farm yard comes alive. Owls appear from tree roosts, pop out of nest boxes or fly out from the shed eaves.  The combine shed has become a favourite roost for more than one of them and they fly to my bidding from the doors.The farmhouse itself proved to be a great place to watch and wait for me recently, and I saw owls perched on the chimneys and television aerial.  They have quickly learned not to utter their half formed screech upon my arrival but still cannot help themselves hiss for food  as I whistle and wave the torch around.

With two broods across the farm there are plenty of owls to watch. Last week I counted five youngsters around west nest box but as the beehive box youngsters were out I cannot discount that they too had joined the melee over at the dutch barn and so I cannot say how many there were in each brood. Nonetheless we can celebrate the fact that both broods were healthy and fledged successfully. 

A few evenings ago I waited behind to see what happened after the owls presumed I had gone. I stood by the grain store with good views of both feeding stations and watched. Straight away an owlet appeared from the shed and waited on the top of the door. I stood motionless knowing that if the owl saw me it would alert the others and my owl watching for the evening would be finished. It sat for what seemed like an age as I kept as still as I could, so still that I was barely breathing. As we both surveyed the darkened farm yard another owl swooped low between us heading over to the open sheds by the house. This seemed to cue the first owl into action and it flew to the feeding platform and helped itself to tea. It headed east which told me it was one of the beehive owlets and I felt satisfied to see it fly so confidently. Within seconds another one appeared on the dutch barn feeding station. This one was not so sure. It took a chick and promptly landed on the floor with it before scanning the area and clumsily flying back into the straw.  As owls flew in for food from both sides of the farm I crept back home, satisfied that the owlets were, at least for now, still on site and still safe.

Each day, I find other clues to the owls whereabouts. There are splashy droppings all along the south facing side of the dutch barn and it is obvious that owls are waiting here, perhaps hunting from a safe vantage point or still begging for food. As I walk across the fields I see more droppings under the elder branches that border the farm to the east. There are obviously owls hunting from here too and I am reassured that they are growing in independence.

I was initially concerned when I saw feathers around the straw as I walk down each morning. The weather has turned now and we have had some seriously rainy nights. I worried that a cunning fox had found the owls and was slowly picking them off one by one. I imagined it appreciated this ready made larder of plump baby owls sitting pretty, an easy target. However, as time goes by I realise that the feathers are actually moult feathers from the adult birds. Female owls will moult whilst sitting on eggs. Some of the feathers I am seeing may even be from the nest box above. The males will moult after they have finished feeding young and their busiest times are over. Seeing these feathers tells me that the owls are finished with rearing young for 2024. 

I love watching the adults and working out where they are nesting, hearing the youngsters hissing for food and watching them emerge from the nest boxes and I am satisfied with another successful year.  Our owls have done well in a year that has has given us some inclement weather. As I write this and the rain hammers down relentlessly on the window I wish our owlets a safe and prosperous future as with their new found independence they find their wings.

Exceptional

 2024 has been an exceptional year so far and continues to amaze me.Our Barn Owls produced their first eggs in February and their first broods fledged at the end of May. They then began rearing second broods, confident that food was being delivered each evening and that they could rear their young successfully.

Every evening I watch our resident female. She waits patiently for me watching intently. There is something about her manner, about her attentiveness that tells me it is her and it warms my heart to see her each evening. She and her mate are now roosting in the combine shed and leave the door each evening as I approach. This tells me that their young are a good size as there is no longer room for the parents in the nest box. They alight on the sheds and watch as I leave the food before flying in and heading straight over to the beehives where their hungry brood are. They fly so close that I throw the food onto the shed and wait for a dull thud that tells me they have taken food, however this week I threw the food as an owl flew in nearly hitting it with its tea! Our carefully choreographed routine has since continued each evening since so I think they have forgiven me. 

Our second pair have given me more to worry about. Here we have another exceptional female. Our first female from our original pair joined us in 2012. The female from pair two was a youngster last year but she has made her presence felt across the farm. She has been feisty and quite dominant, flying in first for food and showing well both by day and by night. Because of her darker colouring, she has been easy to pick out among the other owls. I last saw her mid August when she flew back to the farm from a hunting foray. Since then she seems to have vanished. My first concern was for her young family and I watched the nest box from a distance to see the male taking food in. Night after night I saw just the three adults and although I watched and waited she never showed. 

The obvious answer is that she has died. She was brave and young, hunting far and wide. She could have been hit by a car, taken in pesticide, become trapped somewhere, the possibilities are many, yet while there is no body I will continue to wait for her. Female Barn Owls usually moult whilst sitting on eggs and ours usually moult while sitting on second broods. Perhaps with broods happening so early she is noticeably absent because she is moulting now instead but I think I am clutching at straws with this theory. Each night as I walk down I scour the skies for her but to no avail.

In her absence I watch her brood, checking that they are still being fed and listening to them hissing as I approach. My best vantage point is from behind the grain store a good way back from the dutch barn. From here I can see when the male bird approaches and can hear them excitedly greeting him. It is on the 25th August that I realise that the owlets are almost ready to fledge. As I watch from the shed, I see an owl looking round the side of the nest box.It is trying to make out what or who I am and is bobbing its head from side to side to try to focus upon me. This is classic owlet posturing but being out on the front porch means it must be six or seven weeks old. Once it tires of watching me it proceeds to stretch its beautiful, fully formed wings out and begins wing flapping, strengthening its wing muscles and practising ready to fly. 

It is nearly a week later on the 31st August that I realise this brood have indeed fledged. Although a couple wait on the nest box front I watch two others fly a little way and land in the field. This is typical owlet behaviour and I hold my breath until I see them return to the straw and crash land close to the nest box. This is a full two months earlier than our owlets usually fledge from second broods and part of their success is down to the bravery and confidence of their mother. As I think of her and her determination, I suddenly have a thought. What if she has disappeared because she is actually sitting on eggs? She left her first brood of owlets remarkably early and the dates on this brood tell me she disappeared when they were within two weeks of fledging. She was confident of a food source for them and we have plenty of nest boxes for her to use. If this is case it will be a first for us to have three broods from one pair in a year. I can only watch, wait and see.

And then there were four.

 The kestrels are my little bit of midsummer magic. They usually fledge just after the barn owls and this year was no exception, especially considering the owls were so early. Just as with the owls, I learn to tell the signs of their imminent fledging as year upon year I watch them on a daily basis.

Daddy kestrel is always pleased to see me. In poor weather he will wait outside my house and fly down with me, evidently delighted to see me, or most likely the chicks that I have for him. He has also learned to fly at night and is often the first one to fly in when I feed the owls. As his hungry family grow, he becomes even braver and flies within touching distance. At this point I begin to watch the nest box a little more closely to try and work out how many young he has reared. Using my binoculars I see four, perhaps five little grey heads bobbing about in the open box but it is tricky to count them as they are particularly guarded. I know when they are ready to fledge however, because daddy kestrel suddenly goes quiet. He knows his best defence for his vulnerable family is to stay out of the way.

Every year our kestrels fledge but initially some of them are unable to fly. I am unsure whether they fall from the box, despite it being designed especially for kestrels or whether they get over enthusiastic when the older siblings fly and just leave regardless. I always have an anxious few days with young kestrels perched all over the farm yard that run or gallop about, hiding up at night to stay safe and that find their wings only when I have been driven to distraction. This was especially true five years ago when the owls wanted their nest box back and ousted the kestrels too soon which prompted me to buy their current box. It also happened two years ago when I fed a youngster for a good week by the shed. It was lovely to hear it chittering as I walked down and to see it begging for food and I am pleased to say it fledged successfully.

This year, however, I am afraid to say we had a casualty. The kestrels left the nest box as per usual and hopped around the yard. unfortunately one chose to sit on a trailer that the farmers were moving. They realised something was moving and stopped but the poor bird had fallen between some bags and injured its leg. It got itself into the straw and I watched from a distance. It seemed to be in good spirits and was darting about as they usually do. There was no way to catch it as it had found a straw bolthole which I felt assured would keep it safe at night. I knew I could feed it and as it was managing quite well on its leg I chose to feed it on the floor as I usually do and hope for the best.

Sadly it didn't make it. After a couple of night the chick I left for it was not taken and on further investigation I found the poor birds remains in the field. I suspect a fox had found itself an easy meal.Its always sad to lose a fledgling like this but they are so vulnerable at this stage and this one particularly so. I suppose the injury made it especially susceptible and I worried that I should have tried harder to intervene. I used my previous experience to make my decision and in this case it wasn't good enough.

I watched the other fledglings closely. Had we got five that were now sadly only four or had four turned into three? Initially they were very quiet and I wondered if  the family casualty had made them wary. Dad would fly in for food and they would sit in the straw unusually subdued but it didn't last long. Before the week was out they were chittering excitedly on my approach and circling me closely. They still hadn't sussed out that they could help themselves to food so when dad flew to the platform they mobbed him tirelessly, squabbling with each other when one managed to wrench a chick from dad's talons. Dad meanwhile remained patient with them, flying in numerous times only to have the food taken from him. He also remained vigilant against danger and I watched in awe as he took on a red kite that ventured too close to the farm.

It was as they grew braver that I was able to say for certain how many of the youngsters remained. The females plumage was closer in pattern to the juvenile birds so it was initially hard to work out whether I was watching four young kestrels or whether one of them was their mother but as time progressed and I watched them harangue the male bird it became quite clear that we did indeed have four surviving young kestrels. I don't think they have been as brave as previous years. The hay was cut as they found their independence and so perhaps this meant finding their own food became easier. 

I have however loved looking out for them on my evening walk with Max. I am used to their perches and pick them out across the farm waiting in the ash tree or balancing in the highest point of the horse chestnut. Last night as I gardened at dusk I saw two together flying back to the farm against a pink, cirrus patterned sky. As I watched them soar, I felt proud to be a small part of their success so far.