My fortunate youngsters continue to thrive although I walk the fields with trepidation after finding one of the youngsters dead a month back. Only this morning I approached a piece of white plastic with dread, grabbing the dog and edging closer before relief flooded over me. When you watch the youngsters with such pleasure you also imagine their sad demise wherever you go.
I have, almost by accident, found a novel way of checking on them. After peeping through the circular door handle on the shed I realised that if I pointed my phone through I could get a photo without disturbing them and make sure they were present and correct. Sometimes four, often five and occasionally six birds could be seen perched close together on the furthest beam. Often they were alternating facing forwards backwards in a sequenced pattern. I wonder if this was for warmth. It certainly warmed my heart to see them sitting so companionably close.
Each evening follows a predictable pattern. As soon as I whistle I see owls lift upwards through the farm lights and head towards the house. I assume they are adults but last night one struggled against the wind and landed in the field. It was classic adolescent owl behaviour. Someone couldn't wait for their tea. Now the leaves have fallen I can clearly see them waiting in the surrounding trees. The fly in immediately deftly snatching the chicks and heading away. I watched with pity as an especially brave bird took its tea only to be chased by two others. Feeding over here allows them the space they will need as the youngsters think about dispersing and I will increase the amount over time.
Once I reach the shed the hissing reaches a crescendo. I feel a little nervous as I leave the food, half expecting a hungry owl to appear above me but they wait for my cues. I feed at the dutch barn , often picking out a kestrel or little owl and then walk away but not before I flash the torchlight into the shed. Four or five waiting owlets can be seen on the beam. They will not appear until I leave. However once I have quietened and reached the roadside out they spill, perching expertly on the door ledge now and peering out into the night. They fly down immediately and there is a clash of wings as they choose their tea and head off around the shed. As the autumn continues it becomes ever more difficult to tell the youngsters from the adults.
On the days that I work my morning dog walk coincides with dawn and I have been delighted to see the owls flying as I enter the farm. One morning three were exploring the yard together and fly back into the shed on my approach. Another time two were hunting the dyke side ahead of me and I watch with satisfaction as one broadly circles back to the shed roost with an ease and surety that fills me with confidence about its capabilities. A third encounter sees one leave the straw silhouetted against a coral sky. The kestrel sets out in pursuit but it no longer has the advantage and the owl twists and turns almost languidly against the smaller aggressor. They do not always go to roost. I notice one perched on my beehives staring intently at me as I return. I avoid its gaze and stay well away. There maybe food later in the evening but in order to hunt successfully they must be left alone to focus on this important task.
As the weather settles I become aware that they are less reliant upon my food. They are becoming more capable hunters and the weather is allowing them to hone their skills. In turn I slowly reduce my offering leaving enough for them to survive and continue to live peacefully alongside each other whilst encouraging them to follow their natural instincts. It is a fine balance.
I won't have too many more evenings where I am greeted by such a host of owls. This morning I pointed the camera through the door to check my owlets and the beam was empty. Whether I am ready or not there are signs that changes are afoot. Tonight they were waiting still as raucous as ever. I will enjoy their company whilst I still can.
No comments:
Post a Comment