Out of all the years that I have been involved with our barn owls, 2019 has seen the most tragedies. We began the year knowing we had lost one of our adult males and I wondered if the remaining female would find a mate. It seemed amazing to watch as the resident male took her on as a second wife which made hard work for him in the earlier part of the year as he helped to raise two broods. My delight at this arrangement was short lived when we found his original mate dead along the riverbank.as her first brood fledged. It seemed that we were indeed down to one pair for the first time since 2014 and I spent a morose summer imagining a winter farm yard bereft of owls. I had very few sightings during high summer and missed my visitors enormously.
We had other casualties too. The female youngster I found starving in the dyke in April seemed fortunate to have the care and attention she needed from our local rescue centre but my delight at her release quickly turned to horror as I found her drowned in the river. She simply wasn't strong enough and I felt implicit in her death. Similarly my delight at rescuing a tumbler from the autumn brood in the shed, hidden in the woodpile, led to sadness when I found one from this same brood dead in the shed and another predated in the field. These two unringed youngsters were very unlikely to have survived so late in the season but having watched them and willed them so hard to adulthood I took both of these losses hard too. Our final casualty was one of Debbie's fledglings that was hit by a car along the road between our houses. I had been present when this brood were ringed and was so very sorry that an otherwise healthy owl had to be euthanized. It is at times like this that I doubt my involvement with these beautiful birds. My own resilience is tested and I feel each loss far too keenly.
But it has not all been doom and gloom. 2019 proved to be a bumper year for voles which in turn led to a glut of owlets. We were due a good vole year and it was extremely welcome as I was certain that sightings of barn owls across fenland were down since the last good year of 2014. We had two broods of two owlets early on in the year, so early that the adults couldn't take advantage of the forthcoming glut of food. In autumn the owls produced two broods of five despite the loss of the original female who, amazingly, was replaced by a third bird. Whether our Casanova resident male was daddy to both broods is debatable. I am beginning to realise that I may not be as assured as to who is living on the farm as I think I am.
It was also a year for some firsts for me. Although the cycle of events continued along a pleasingly familiar pattern I saw things this year that I couldn't have anticipated. I watched in terror as the male bird was tackled by a buzzard for its prey. He flew back to his roost site that day and stayed there. I also watched in amazement as the owls tired of the kestrels and ousted their youngsters from the nest box a week before they were ready to fledge. I learned a great deal about this delightful little falcon as I kept a close eye on them over the next few weeks and still feel a pang of pleasure as I watch kestrels hunting across the fields. As the autumn progressed I observed the second brood owlets with pleasure as they roosted together. We installed a fourth feeding station directly outside their shed to alleviate any hostility but as yet they seem very contented with each other. I also could not have anticipated catching a flying owl and still smile to myself at the thought of that event. One of the youngsters was out by day, confused and hungry.I can still vividly remember it launching itself towards me and instinctively grabbing it as it flew past. I was determined to return it to safety but had some nasty wounds on my hands as thanks.
The year has ended on a high as I am greeted by a farm full of owls. I could not have anticipated such a greeting in the owl famine that was summer 2019. The youngsters still hiss upon my arrival. The adults wait patiently staring hard at me with those large obsidian eyes full of trust. Just last night I stopped over by the house and looked around me. I was completely surrounded by them as they sat waiting expectantly in the trees. The closest was perhaps only ten metres away, two youngsters sat together in the furthest trees whilst the shyer birds sat partially hidden by the walnut tree branches. I cannot tell what 2020 has in store for us but I do know that I will continue to play my part in the dramas until circumstances force my hand. Happy New Year to you all.
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