Endings...and new beginnings

 For us, January and February are winter; dreary, dark and this year in particular, cold and wet.Yet for the owls, their thoughts are already turning to spring. Soon after Christmas the owls can be found at the nest sites, reestablishing their bonds and thinking about the season ahead of them. We begin to see more activity and there is definitely more territorial screeching going on as the owls on site lay claim to the yard and make sure any youngsters or visiting owls know exactly who the farm belongs to.

We are also looking ahead. At some point the farm will be sold and whilst it is highly likely that I will still be able to feed the owls each night, I want to have options for feeding. For this reason, since Christmas, I have been putting chicks on the shed rood close to the gate. Initially I just left two but once these were discovered and taken I increased the volume here and decreased food on the shed in the farm itself. I did this very gradually so no owls went hungry but so that I can feed here and minimise disturbance to the new owners. I was so excited recently to be greeted one evening by two owls waiting on this very shed and even more delighted when I realised that one was our oldest female. Since then I have noticed that whilst I am in the farm putting food on the other feeding stations that some of the owls are flying in and taking food from the shed by the gate before I've exited the yard. I'm keen to see how this all works out.

Our other task was to clean the nest boxes out, mend and reposition them slightly. The owls make this especially tricky for us. They lay their first egg in early March and once spring broods fledge in May they then go on to produce second broods which don't fledge until October. These young owls often stay and roost in the boxes throughout the winter so our window for cleaning boxes is very limited.With the farm leaving our hands sooner rather than later we needed to leave the boxes in the best state possible. This meant cleaning them out and mending both east nest box and west nest box. These are the most popular nest sites and both being exposed to the elements, we decided once they were mended they needed securing further back into the dutch barn so they took less weathering and would last much longer.

I saw the manitou out in the yard in mid February and realised they were taking the boxes down. As I watched I saw an owl leave the box and fly panicked across the yard. Later I found out that both these boxes had two owls in them. Whether they were youngsters roosting or whether they were our established pairs I couldn't say but despite there being plenty of other roost sites I was keen for the boxes to go back up as soon as possible.

What we found in the boxes was surprising. Both boxes were brimming with pellet debris but east nest box also had a fair quantity of sticks. I'd guess that the jackdaws had begun to build in this one and was most probably the reason that the barn owls never used it last summer. What was also surprising was the pellets themselves. I feed between fifteen and twenty day old chicks a night, up to one hundred and forty a week. Pellets that the owls regurgitate after eating chicks are a light brown and chalky in composition. Looking at the pellet debris I would say that only about twenty per cent were from day old chicks. Its reassuring to see that our owls continue to hunt for themselves but it also told me that in this case, there are more owls flying in and taking the day old chicks if the owls on site are catching this quantity of voles. 

It took six nerve wracking days for the boxes to go back up. I asked every morning if today was the day when the owls would get these favoured boxes back and eventually they went back up. Two very sturdy boxes were positioned out of the weather yet still close enough to the original site for the owls to find them easily. Sure enough, that very evening an owl left the platform of east nest box as I walked down with food. I do hope they are happy with their refurbished homes. Perhaps now they have such super homes they will vacate the combine!!

Meanwhile the kestrels have also been thinking of spring. Before I had even got over the sad loss of Daddy Kestrel, the new male was on site and flying alongside our original female. I even wonder if his arrival had something to do with the attack on Daddy Kestrel. Before we lost him we had a kestrel roosting on our aerial. There were droppings and pellets all over the path. Once we lost him, these pellets disappeared. Could it be possible that this younger bird saw the chance to take over a desirable territory and fought for it? It would have been a fight that Daddy Kestrel with his advanced years would have been bound to lose. We'll never know exactly what happened but I am very happy to have a kestrel pair continuing at the farm. The female is now the bravest and waits for me each morning. Her new mate is often with her and flies alongside her. I have also witnessed brief mating which I suppose is part of them establishing their bond. Today they sat together in the ash tree watching me as I walked closely past. I am extremely proud to have had Daddy Kestrel with us for sixteen and a half years but am also excited for this next chapter in the kestrel's story.

So endings and new beginnings and the circle of life continues. Whether we want things to stay as they are or whether we are keen for change, life goes on relentlessly and all we can do is look forward and enjoy the journey. Here's to the upcoming spring and the surprises my avian friends have for me.

Barn Owls 2025

 I've waited before sharing a review of 2025 anticipating a summary of the year across the UK and the successes and disappointments in different regions. It gives me a comparison from which I can gauge our results and, of course, I am always keen to see how the beautiful Barn Owl is faring.

It appears that the results are mixed. Some areas, such as East Yorkshire, reported a bumper year, but these figures are tied in  to a great effort by local conservation groups. Barn Owl numbers increased where concerted efforts had been made to provide both habitat improvement and nest sites. Most groups including the ones in East Anglia reported a poor year. The very hot and dry weather, especially early in the spring, meant that vole numbers were down. Barn Owls either didn't risk breeding or produced eggs only for their nests to fail. Hunting opportunities in the dry and settled weather would have been good, but if the prey weren't breeding there was simply nothing to catch. I was grateful to a local ringer who got in touch to tell me that preliminary checks were showing very few owls were breeding locally. It helped me to watch our owls a little more closely.

Of course, here on the farm, the owls began nesting in March confident in a ready supply of food. The feisty dark female took west nest box and I soon saw her taking food in to owlets. Our original female was pushed away from the main nesting area and surprisingly nested in the farm chimney. During the final days of May, we saw owlets hopping in and out of the chimney. I would hazard a guess at three owlets but with such an inaccessible nest site it was difficult to say. Meanwhile the darker female reared at least three youngsters, all female. I watched these as they first began peeping out of the nest box at me and then began hopping about on the nest box porch. They fledged into the nearby trees where they could practice their flying skills hopping about from branch to branch. They were a delight to watch.

As usual second broods followed. By September, I knew the dark female had take the box in the combine shed while the older female had moved further away to the beehive box on the periphery of the farm. It worries me that she is getting pushed out by the younger, more assertive owl. We've had two pairs on the farm since 2014 and they've tolerated each other well but I watch at feeding time and the dark female will send our old lady off if she has a chance. I feed in three different places to give our original lady a good chance of getting some food but it is sad to see. I believe she is fifteen this year and after what happened to Daddy Kestrel, I fear for her. Nonetheless she reared another brood of two or three and brought them across into the yard for food in the autumn. The brood in the combine shed were a raucous lot and were probably joined by the beehive brood as they hissed noisily from the roof struts as I ventured into the yard with food every evening.

We had our tragedies with the owlets as is the case with nature. Soon after the summer broods had fledged we found one trapped in the combine. To this day we have little idea how she got into the grain cart but she did and was extremely weak when rescued.I still regret letting her hide in the straw where she died but hindsight is a wonderful thing. The second casualty was predated, possibly by a buzzard considering her injuries and this one was from the autumn brood. Fledging is a precarious business as this year shows.

Regrettably, I didn't get the owlets ringed this season. We were totally spoiled with Paddy as he would come out to visit us purposely to catch our owlets which were always much earlier to fledge than the other owls in the area. We have found since Simon took over, that by the time he is ready to ring the owlets in our locality ours have already fledged. I need to remedy this. Paddy has data for our farm since the 1990s and it would be a terrible shame to let that data lapse.

                                                              (Old photo 2013)

2025 had one notable difference for me and it was a disappointing one. Usually the owlets  from the second broods stay on site all winter and my best viewing opportunities occur in late winter when the owl will readily fly in for food, sometimes eight or nine at a time. This year the owlets dispersed from the farm in December.Perhaps with the female being more territorial she sent the youngsters off at this point. We certainly heard a lot of screeching. I also wonder if the incredibly mild and settled weather we had well into December meant the owlets felt confident to leave the natal nest site and look for territories of their own. There was also a more sinister reason that I considered. We had avian flu close by. I saved a cygnet from the adults that were drowning it and after advice from a wildlife charity I took it further down the river. On the way I saw three other dead cygnets and realised that I may be moving an ill bird about. Sure enough Defra confirmed that the swans had avian flu. This was early November. The adult swans were attacking the young birds because they knew they were ill. Could it be possible tat the owls sent their youngsters off to keep them safe from the threat of bird flu? I don't think we lost the owlets or I would have found at least some of them but it could explain a change in their normal behaviour.

So 2025 was a mixed year for us. I had some beautiful encounters with the owls but some heart wrenching moments too. We reared potentially twelve owlets, ten of which dispersed and are hopefully looking to rear youngsters of their own . As I sit and type,I wonder what 2026 will bring. There will be big changes on the farm but I will remain a constant for the owls and do my best for them..

Goodbye Daddy Kestrel.

 There is something extremely special about  forming a bond with a wild creature. We are now so far removed from the natural world that to be lucky enough to feel that connection is a truly special thing. I suppose this is what keeps me feeding the owls on a daily basis; this chance to watch them swirl in silent acknowledgement of me. Over time feeding the owls led me to build bonds with the shyer Little Owls and also the kestrels that live on the farm, but none have been quite as trusting and looked to me so readily as Daddy Kestrel.

It was only when we lost him and I recovered the ring that I realised that he had been with us throughout the entire time I had been feeding the owls. I knew he had been ringed a couple of kilometres away as a nestling by Alan Ball as at some point we had recaptured him at our farm but I had no idea that he was the grand old age of sixteen and a half years old when he died, and the oldest wild kestrel on record. This prompted me to look back through my blogs and collate his adventures,to tell his remarkable story in its entirety and to celebrate his life.

We have always had kestrels at the farm, living alongside the Barn owls. The two species coexist quite happily sharing a similar habitat and nest site, so I was initially unsure when he joined us. I began feeding the owls in October 2012 at which time I now know that Daddy Kestrel had apparently already been at the farm for three years. The owls would nest first in their chosen box and then the kestrels would take the other box to rear their young in. It all worked well and without me knowing the kestrels began helping themselves to the food I left out too.

2014 was a bumper year for Barn Owls and for the first time we had two pairs living side by side in the boxes on the dutch barn. This left nowhere for the kestrels to nest and they did their best and nested in the straw. Sadly, the farmers didn't realise and moved the bales and the eggs were lost. Despite a glut of voles there were no kestrel broods that year. My first mention of the kestrels waiting for food is the following year when, in 2015, I mention seeing a kestrel perched on the roof struts eyeing up the food I was leaving. Daddy Kestrel was already six years old at this point and, with an average lifespan of four years in the wild, he was doing well. He had happened upon a lucrative site and was to stay with us for the rest of his life.

After this year, the owls gave each other more space. We added a box over by the beehive and in time another in the barn, so the kestrels were able to take either east nest box or west nest box where, without fail, they would rear three, four or five youngsters. Nesting later than the Barn Owls they simply took the spare box and quietly reared their family.

In 2018 my blog tells me that the kestrels took west nest box for their nest site and it was about this time that I realised that our male bird was ringed and much braver with me than the female. I try not to name the wild birds but over the years he simply became Daddy Kestrel without me realising what I had done. In 2019 they took east nest box only for their youngsters to be evicted by a Barn Owl. We found two youngsters unable to fly and returned them to the nest box only for them to be ousted out again. It became apparent that our second pair of Barn Owls were looking for a nest site for their second broods and were too impatient to wait. I watched these youngsters avidly to make sure they fledged successfully and thankfully they did. This incident also led to my funniest ever faux pas in a message to Paddy when I wrote that the kestrels had;

"Darted under the shed door" only for autocorrect to change the initial D to an F. That kept me laughing for days. 

In 2020 I realised that the kestrels needed a box of their own and I ordered them a special open box that was positioned on the east side of the dutch barn siding. Daddy Kestrel gratefully took to this box and never used the owl boxes again. I am so glad I gave them their own designated spot after the pleasure they have given me over the years. The kestrels would roost on top of it all year round and from this vantage point Daddy Kestrel learned to fly in after dark to help himself to the owl's tea. I don't know if this is something that kestrels usually do but his familiarity with the farm certainly helped. Although he only flew in when he was very hungry or when he had young to feed I recognised his hunger and began to put a chick or two out for him each morning. It was another job to do but wonderful to see him perched waiting each morning and to witness his strong, straight flight in to the feeding platform. When he had young kestrels to feed I left more food and it was a delight to see them all flying in squabbling to get their share and chasing each other across the farm yard. This fledging behaviour never lasted long enough for me, and eventually they dispersed further and further from the yard. Within a month they'd always be gone leaving me with a huge feeling of satisfaction that my brave little falcon had, once more, raised his family successfully.

Summer 2021 saw me name a second kestrel in the form of Harry Kane. This year Daddy Kestrel raised five strong kestrels but as they fledged, the youngest fell from the nest box still unable to fly. I fed him for a good ten days as he hopped around the farm yard with his parents watching me intently. As this was world cup year he became Harry Kane and we all celebrated his successful fledging from a scruffy ball of feathers to a magnificent, soaring raptor as avidly as the fans cheered on England. 

By summer 2022 Daddy Kestrel was still rearing young and produced another brood of four. He was much braver with me by now and would wait for me, sometimes even flying down the road to wait upon the telegraph pole outside my house. he often met me by the gate and flew ahead in anticipation of the food I had for him. During windy weather he would tuck himself safely up in the shed eaves but mostly he chose a high vantage point such as the barn apex, the grain store vent or the uppermost tips of the ash trees from which to watch me. I never tired of looking out for him and marvelled at how he could clasp such tiny twigs between his talons and still maintain his balance. Max the dog was very jealous and if he saw him flying in to the feeding platform would chase after him. Daddy kestrel quickly learned to watch for Max's position in the field before flying in. 

Calamity struck in 2023. I suspect Daddy Kestrel got too brave around the Barn Owls as I had watched him sitting on their nest box porch just as the owlets were ready to fledge and laughed at his bravado. He disappeared for a good two days before reappearing on the machinery near the shed and gazing at me imploringly. His right wing hung by his side and he could barely fly. I remember running home for food which he fluttered down to. I found him and fed him morning and night until his wing healed and he could fly strongly again. He still fledged four kestrels despite this injury and continued to produce a successful brood in 2024. During these years his mate would fly in for food too but was nowhere near so brave and I have no idea how many different mates he has had over his long life.

2025, was sadly to be his final year and he struggled with his brood this summer. He still flew in for food each morning and evening and I increased the food to help him feed the nestlings, but one evening he flew into the shed and in a weakened state he fell to the ground. He lay splayed in front of me on his back, vulnerable and beaten before recovering himself enough to take off and fly to the straw. The following morning I watched him take food and fly onto the floor of the dutch barn. In feeding his ever growing family he had exhausted himself. I took food down four times a day until I could see him flying confidently again. When his family finally fledged, he stopped flying in for food  realising that he was too weak to withstand the barrage he would receive from their attentions. He sat back and let them help themselves before taking his share. I was however in awe of him and his mate as I watched them mobbing a Red Kite that came too close to their fledglings. They wheeled and circled until it left the farm and I marvelled at their acrobatics. Daddy Kestrel still had some fight in him.

A couple of weeks before he died he began waiting in my garden and when I saw him, I fed him on the hedge. He knew me instantly and flew in for my offerings but he also continued to wait at the farm. I think his ability to hunt for himself was compromised by his incredible age and he used his wits to make sure he was well fed. On his final morning, he flew from one of his favourite vantage points, the ash tree halfway down the field. I watched as he flew straight and true and deftly took his breakfast up onto the top of west nest box. But all was not well. A friend found him in the grass field later that afternoon and called Rob out to him. Daddy Kestrel had been attacked and had injuries to his eye. He flew back into the straw and perched on the combine. As soon as I received this alarming news I rushed down to look for him but I couldn't find him. The following morning he was dead in the straw.

I've spent a long time trying to piece together that final day. Who attacked him and why? Eye injuries would point to the crows that are always marauding around the yard but I'd be surprised if they'd attack a healthy kestrel. Was he weakened? Perhaps he'd taken in poison? Perhaps it was avian flu which I had reported to Defra in swans on the river? Perhaps it was simply old age? Whatever the cause he was gone and nothing more could be done for him.

For the first time in all those years, I touched his feathers and they were soft and dense, tinged pink on his breast and flecked with brown. His wings seemed strong and true, and I wondered how many miles they had carried him. He was also well fed. I may not have been able to save him but I hadn't let him down in this sense. I carefully took the ring that had shown me it was him each time I walked down although his trusting nature and familiarity did that anyway. The ring would give me the final piece of the jigsaw and an exact age for this special boy.

With avian flu a real possibility we decided to burn him and, wearing gloves, I bagged him and carried him across the yard to the incinerator. It was a beautiful morning, the sort he would have enjoyed as he watched and waited for me. As I walked the crows took off from their viewpoint in the largest ash tree and the fieldfare exploded in their hundreds from the hawthorn hedge. As I continued the finches and larks that have banded together for winter spirited upwards from the grass and for a brief, beautiful moment the sky was filled with wings. It was as if they too had come to say goodbye in a celebration of his long and fruitful life.

I miss him terribly. I catch myself looking for him at all his favourite spots before I remember he has gone. I almost expect him to fly in for food after dark and flutter upwards above me as I wait for the owls. One of his favourite tricks was to scatter the down from his food onto my head as I tried to stand still to watch. It is with huge sadness that I come to realise that I will never experience his companionship again and probably won't be lucky enough to build such a bond with another wild creature as I have done with Daddy Kestrel.

But I hang onto the word lucky. I was lucky to have him and a few days after his death I was stunned to receive an email telling me his age. He was fortunate to have the privilege of six thousand and nine days of soaring across the skies, of wild forays and adventures, and the longest life of any wild kestrel known to man. As I head across the Fens close to home I see one, two, three sometimes four kestrels hunting the grass verges as I drive. Some of these are undoubtedly his descendants, and I smile as I watch them soar.

Autumn broods

 After our first broods fledged in May the farm yard was very quiet. Its always quieter during the summer months when the owls have plenty of food and rely upon me very little but this was extraordinarily quiet. I walked down night after night to an empty farm yard and I fed less than ever. There were also moult feathers everywhere which usually happens when the owls are finished with rearing owlets.

With the weather continuing so dry, I had resigned myself to the owls only producing one brood this year but then I heard reports from Yorkshire were one of the ringers was reporting a bumper year for Barn Owls. Sure enough, it transpired that by midsummer, the boxes in his part of the country were doing well. We had rain at the end of May which had made the grass grow. There was a harvest of hay after all and the grass field, ditches and field margins were lush and now a perfect habitat for the field voles too.I began to wonder if we might be lucky enough to have second broods after all.

                                                               From previous year.

I began watching more closely as midsummer came and went. The weather settled again giving us dry conditions by day and by night. Ever so slowly the owls returned and I scanned the sunset skies for their arrival but more importantly for their departures. If they had owlets I needed to see which boxes the adults were returning to. I soon determined that one pair were flying across the farm to the beehive pole box while another were heading into the combine shed. It wasn't long before I heard faint hissing from here. Now I was keen to find out which pair had nested where.

It was the ringed female that helped me piece all the clues together. She is the oldest female that has been with us since 2012 and I watched her fly in first and head over to the beehive box to her young family which meant that the darker female had used the far more superior site in the shed. This worried me. Our older female had reared both her broods out of the main area and away from the feeding stations. I couldn't help thinking that she was feeling her age and having to succumb to the will of the younger and stronger pair. As she had started waiting for me on the first grain store, I began to throw some food up onto a lower roof close by. She soon saw what I was doing and has waited here for me most nights ever since simply flying to the shed when I get too close but otherwise watching me through those ever trusting eyes with her head slightly tilted. 

By mid October both broods had fledged. I never got over to the beehive box to watch but was amused to see the youngsters from the shed negotiating the gap in the door as they branched out into the big, wide world.  I watched young owls peering at me from the grass field and willed them to fly to a safer vantage point. I was pleased to see them waiting in the nearby trees, screeching uncertainly at me as I arrived. I think they knew they should screech at me but also knew I was bringing supper and their confusion was audible! I offered my camera up to the gap in the door whilst I walked past on my walk with Max and saw them sleeping on the roof eaves or the wood in the furthermost corner. I finally watched them fly in for food themselves and felt satisfied that they would be sustained through the winter if they stayed close while they continued to gain their independence.

There have, of course, been anxious moments. There was the time one took its food over to the bridge and as I passed by it seemed to plummet downwards and I spent a good few worrying moments panning my torch along the river. There was the windy evening when one inexperienced owl flew too high and was carried out of the yard by a gust of wind. This week as I walked past one morning I whistled in daddy kestrel and one of the young owls came out of the shed, probably confused by the call I usually use after dark. It panicked and flew to the north of the house, right into the path of a buzzard which was waiting along the riverside. I didn't see it return but as my feeding times have been filled with half formed screeches and some rather insistent hissing I can only assume the buzzard never challenged this young interloper.

Rather pleasingly I have also had news of a third pair less than one hundred meters from the farm. A man nearby had situated an owl box and until this year had been unlucky. However he was thrilled to tell me that this spring he had a pair using the box and by midsummer he had heard faint hissing.Sure enough he had owlets fledge into his garden. Being situated so close I like to think that at least one of this pair were probably some of our youngsters from last year. It would explain why during the early part of this summer there was a disproportionate amount of screeching from the farm. I imagine these owls were popping back in for food and receiving a frosty welcome from their parents. The owner of the nest box was over the moon to have a successful pair on his land and asked me what he could do to help. |He has since erected a second nest box and the youngsters are now roosting here. He has cameras to watch them by and is feeding them just as we do at the farm.  What a satisfying end after such a tricky start to the year.

Summer broods.

 Summer 2025 will be remembered for the long, sunny days, and , here in the Fens at least, the lack of rainfall. From early March onward, we had the pleasure of clear blue skies and warmer than usual temperatures. As I write this in October, we continue to have dry, settled weather with just a few brief breaks in the sunshine to provide some much needed moisture. It has been an exceptional year for holidaymakers but not so good for Barn Owls.

2024 was a glut year for Field Voles. These rodents which are the main food source for Barn Owls seem to be numerous in some years but this is often followed by a poor year and so 2025 meant lean pickings for owls. When you factor in the poor weather which meant less green shoots of grass for the voles to eat on it meant a real lack of food for Barn Owls early on in the year. I was first made aware of this when Charles kindly messaged me to say his preliminary checks of boxes in the area showed no signs of owls laying eggs or brooding young. I was grateful for this information as I was then able to increase the feeding at a time when I would usually decrease it. 

Our pairs reared young nonetheless, encouraged by the supplementary feeding. I realised in May that the very dark female had reared young in west nest box and our older female had chosen the chimney on the farm house for her brood. The west nest box family consisted of three owlets all females and very dark like their mother. I watched these little beauties as they ventured out of the nest box and wobbled their heads from side to side trying to make sense of their surroundings. For just a few short days they were unafraid of me and I dared to fire off a few photographs as I walked Max. No matter how many broods we rear I always feel immensely privileged to be watching them as they appear with their feathery down replaced by the most beautiful plumage and wings.

The chimney brood were too high up to properly observe but I watched carefully when the west box owlets fledged for similar activity upon the farmhouse roof. I saw two young males cavorting about but otherwise this brood fledged quietly under the cover of darkness. For a while they confused me by hissing noisily from east nest box as I approached it I suppose it was a big ask to get back up onto the house roof and why go to the effort when there is an empty nest box close by.

It would seem we had a successful early season but sadly it wasn't all positive news. One of the beautiful dark females somehow got stuck in grain store of the combine. How she managed this we are all baffled by. Perhaps she saw the pipe that led to it and dived inside but was unable to get back out but when she was discovered by the farmers we thought she was ok as she raced into a straw gap and I confidently threw food in to her thinking this was the end of things. Sadly, we found a dead owl here a couple of days later. It seems she was too weak to make it and I was cross with myself for not being more proactive. Our second casualty was most likely one of the chimney owlets. I always worry about how vulnerable they are as they sit in the long grass and it would appear that for one, its fledging was short lived. I just found a wing, close to the house and assume it was predated soon after leaving the nest site. I hate losing the owlets, especially when I have watched how much hard work has gone into rearing them but I am becoming more accustomed to the everyday tragedies that unfold in the natural world.

There was a turn of fortune later in the year for Barn Owls across the country as Field Vole numbers increased. I will blog about our second broods very soon. 

Kestrel days

 Although I began by feeding the Barn Owls, the Kestrels quickly realised there was a good thing going on at the farm and dovetailed into the proceedings. I've no idea how long I have fed this family but they are as constant and endearing to me as the owls themselves and, as with the owls, I have watched their behaviour over the year for long enough to know what will happen next.

Daddy Kestrel is, of course, my favourite. He flies in for breakfast each morning but has also learned to fly in after dark and is usually the first to take a chick from the shed roof before the owls have barely gathered. I first realised that something was amiss this summer when, one evening, his deadly accuracy failed him.Instead of alighting on the zinc he crashed clumsily at my feet and lay on his back in the inky dusk staring helplessly up at me. It was then I noticed that he wasn't able to carry the food I left up to his usual high points such as the nest box roof or the shed vent. Instead he flew low, labouring, barely managing to reach the bales and would sit vulnerably wherever he could to sate his hunger. 

It was useful to know that vole numbers were low. I guessed that he was either weak with hunger or an old injury from two summers ago was affecting him. I knew could do little about the injury but I could help with food. I walked down four times a day, leaving food each time and reassuringly he flew in each time. It was then I noticed that his mate would immediately take the food from him. Her main concern was feeding her quickly growing brood but with scarce pickings this was seriously weakening him. I was persistent. I continued to feed throughout the day, whistling him in and watching to make sure he got at least a little something and very slowly, over the days, his condition improved and it couldn't have come at a better time as his family were ready to fledge.

I heard them first, though  they hunkered down on my approach, an excited chittering emanated from the nest box which told me they would soon leave the nest box. One Sunday morning I found that in the excitement of anticipating breakfast it had been just too much and one had been jostled from their nest high in the shed eaves. It was too young to fly but too fast to catch and spent the day cavorting around the straw stack. There was little chance of disturbance and I felt confident should it find a safe roost for the night, that in a day or two it would fly and hopefully rejoin its family. 

Yet the quiet of the farmyard was about to be shattered as the following day the farmers had planned to cut the hay. In one sense this was good as it meant that the young kestrel would have plenty of food to find while the voles ran for cover and it would be less susceptible to a fox with the clear fields, but it did mean it could easily get caught up in the busy machinery. I was in school so all I could do was keep my fingers crossed and hope it stayed safe. 

By teatime the following day the hay was laying in neat rows across the grass field and the young kestrel had been joined by all three of its siblings. I'm not sure whether the extra activity had sent them all scattering out from the nest box in a panic or whether they really were ready to fledge, but there they were, hopping and jumping aimlessly around the field. The adults behaviour was predictable. They completely disappeared from view with the aim of not drawing attention to their young family. I did however see them when any other bird of prey appeared. Both the male and the female would appear as if from nowhere and fly ferociously at them, persisting until the interloper was clear of the farm. I watched one of the young owls receive this treatment and also a Red Kite get hounded away. They were devoted parents and  I willed nothing to go wrong after all their hard work so far.

There was one memorable morning when I walked down to the farm to find all four sitting on a piece of farm machinery close to the nest box but after a couple of days, the clueless youngsters disappeared completely. I searched for them as |I walked down for my dog walk but saw nothing and seriously began to wonder if we had lost them, but before the hay was baled up and carted away I realised that as soon as they could fly they had hidden up in the ash trees along the farm border. It was the perfect hideaway, close to the farm to keep them safe from predators yet hidden away from humans too. Gradually over the next few days they began calling to the parent birds as they flew in for food. The parents waited until I was into the next field before they took the food up to their family but it was reassuring to know they were safe and well.

This year's fledging hasn't involved much raucous chasing and squabbling over the food. I watched the family as, first they hunted the open grass field and then they waited for me at various points across the farm yard itself. They flew confidently very quickly and still I often see them hovering and chittering excitedly as I approach. Some of them take food from the platform themselves while others steal from the others. Its great to stand at the bottom of the field and watch them. Usually they begin to leave the farm after a couple of weeks, but with less voles this year they seem to be staying close and I have decided to feed them until they stop flying in. 

Their plumage is developing now from the flecked brown that all fledglings sport, and showing their adult plumage. The males are developing their grey/blue heads and wings while the females are losing their fluffiness and their wings and tails are elongating. As I walk the fields in the intense July sunshine, two of them take flight from the field ahead and fly in a southerly direction towards a neighbouring farm, and disappear out of sight. Its an odd feeling watching them, wanting them to spread their wings but also wanting them to stay close and safe. Kestrels only have one brood of youngsters each year unlike the owls who are already caring for their second broods. I will enjoy watching these youngsters as the summer burns on.