Yet, within less than a week of the shortest day I am seeing a difference in the owls' behaviours. The youngsters are now flying confidently over to the house with me. Just a couple remain in the shed, hissing impudently at me as I approach. One waits in the open sheds, sheltered and safe until I arrive.Two others have taken to west nest box on the dutch barn and fly to the trees hissing as they go. It is a privilege to watch them as they gain their independence.
I am always delighted to share my evening walk and last Monday I had visitors to watch. It fills me with apprehension having written so enthusiastically about my wonderful fly pasts and as my guests stood on the bridge the farm appeared just like any other, still and lifeless. However when I began to whistle my familiar call they appeared, beautifully white and flew gracefully through the farm lights over to the house where they knew we would walk first. Arriving on the lawn they were assembled, perched in trees and circling close by keen for the food to be shared. I held back for a few minutes knowing they would stay and we could watch for a while. As the minutes passed more arrived until we counted six owls in total across the grassy expanse. Four flew in for tea as we stood watching. I always leave once the bravest have fed knowing that my faithful female will wait until I am out of sight and if I over stay my welcome she may go hungry.
Over by the shed and the dutch barn I left my guests to watch from the straw stack and made my way out of the farm as usual. Sure enough, owls returned to this corner of the farm too. More youngsters left the shed in a flurry of excitement and an older bird flew within metres to take food from the dutch barn platform. It was a spectacular viewing. I almost felt as if the owls had conspired with me, knowing I wanted to show them at their best and so they duly obliged.
The only thing my owl enthusiasts didn't see was the owls fly alongside me as I walk to the yard. One graced me with its presence on Christmas Eve, flying upward from a fence post and then measuring its flight with my stride so it continued alongside me the whole way down the road. I know it is hunger that prompts such actions but it makes me immeasurably happy to watch this.
You would imagine that seeing these beauties each evening makes a snatched sighting as I drive home less exciting but the opposite is true. Somehow it adds to the experience. On my way to work I spotted an owl close to the bridge that acts as a county border less than a mile from us. It was sitting quite nonplussed on a dyke side watching the traffic. Two evenings later I saw an owl in the same vicinity hunting from a post. The car headlights captured it beautifully and its upright stance and intent stare are appliqued on my heart. At such a short distance away this could well be one of our autumn fledglings making its first forays out into the world.
Closer to Thorney, I was delighted to see the very dark female owl hunting along her favourite dyke. Paddy recaptured one of our 2016 fledglings here this summer. It was where I tried to help a sodden owl during a downpour in April and where I had taken chicks during a wet spell in June. I watched her circle warily away from the traffic. With her especially grey flecked feathers she was spectacular.
My final Christmas owl encounter was a sad one. I am always watching out for road casualties and usually I find myself staring intently at a McDonald's wrapper but along the A16 I was saddened to see an owl close to the Cowbit roundabout. It looked to have been hit and struggled to the grass verge to die and I was sorry I had not passed that way earlier, in time perhaps, to help it.
Somehow getting involved with my owls makes these encounters across the fens even more significant. I know in the new year as the days lengthen and activity increases I will see many more both memorable and heartfelt. I will be ready for them.
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