The weather has continued to conspire against the owls and reports of birds starving are widespread. Their hunger drives them into ever more precarious situations, hunting by day and close to roads. It was with a heavy heart that I saw the owl I had watched close to a nearby bridge now crumpled on the grass verge. It was impossible to stop with traffic everywhere but we agreed to look on our return journey. By then, despite scouring the area and nearby fields the owl had vanished. How I wished I had turned back initially. I had felt sure this owl was one of our youngsters but now I couldn't check for a ring. I convinced myself that perhaps it wasn't dead that it had been mantling over prey but my husband is not in the habit of humouring me. He assured me it was dead and that another well intentioned person had recovered the body. If it was one of ours I know the information will reach me through Paddy. How sorry I was to think I would not see its beautiful buff form quartering as I drove that way.
Sunday continued in a similar vein with gusty winds that nearly took my legs from under me as I walked the dog. At dusk Nature took pity upon the owls and the wind calmed. All at once owls appeared as if summoned by some unknown piper. We drove out as one of our males flew alongside the car. Thrilled to the pit of my stomach my delight continued as we headed across the fens. Within five miles we had seen as many owls, all quartering, composed and intent. To watch their languid flight you would not imagine the turmoil that they have endured in these infernal conditions.
These sightings carried me through the start of the week but on Tuesday I returned from work to find a sad bundle waiting for me. It was the frailest little body I have ever seen yet absolutely perfect without a feather out of place. It had simply faded away. The ring told me that it wasn't one of ours but belonged to a nest site down the road. The owl in its weakness must have found our open sheds where it was discovered too late. I shed a tear over its perfect form and wished it had realised that there was food within metres of its final roost. I had seen an owl in these sheds on Saturday. I often see them in here so hadn't thought to check but how I wish I had looked now. Sadly recriminations and retrospection are little use to it now.
There was however, metaphorical sunshine on Wednesday when I was called upon to help with the location for a barn owl release. This one had argued with a van in a nearby village and been rescued by a local lady. The man responsible for its rehabilitation met me and together we chose a good spot. Once it realised that it was free it flew beautifully silhouetted against the sun. As we stood discussing the year gone by and our individual owlish endeavours we watched two owls quartering the dykes and ditches. Had the released bird so confidently found its wings already?
I drove that way over the next couple of days with the intention of looking out for this owl and making sure as best I could that it wasn't in trouble. As I drove past the spot where it had been involved in the van collision I whispered a curse as I saw the all too familiar form of a crushed owl on the roadside. Surely it couldn't be? I abandoned the car and ran avoiding the lorries that sped past yet feeling the tug from them and imagining that force on the slight form of a barn owl. On reaching the pathetic pile of feathers I was relieved that it was unringed as our released bird was sporting a fresh silver ring with its own individual number. Nonetheless it was beyond sad to feel its fragile little body, too thin, pushed beyond its limits and I contemplated that perhaps the collision it had encountered was preferable to the slow agonising death that starvation must bring.
I didn't have time to dwell on this sad find. There was one more that for me that would prove far more poignant. For some reason my dog walk took me upon a different route and back to the yard along the riverbank. I caught sight of something owl coloured along the bank and casually raised my binoculars. I so often pick out old pieces of hessian or cardboard that I wasn't expecting to see an owl and gasped with shock as the heart shaped face and flayed wings came sharply into focus. I knew from this distance it would be one of ours and set off to with the grisly job of identifying exactly which one it was. GY00516 was the third oldest fledgling from the combine shed. In my distress I moved the body and quickly took photos before covering it with reeds and leaving it. But something didn't seem quite right. A seemingly single wound to the upper wing and subsequent blood loss was a strange injury. I wondered about predation yet other than this wound the bird was flawless. It's condition told me it had died that day and we had seen an owl sitting on the hedge that very morning. I should have seen that its close proximity was a sign that all wasn't well. Summoning up all my resilience I closed my heart to my usual sentimentality and rang the bird of prey monitoring scheme. I returned that evening and collected it. This body will be analysed and I hope to have some answers. It is the very least I can do for one of our own.
I couldn't imagine this time just a week ago that I would have so many little tragedies to record and I sincerely hope that I never have to experience another week such as this. But it has shown me that I am not alone in the emotions that these magnificent creatures evoke. My sad tales have been met with sympathy and kind words wherever my story has been shared and those around me have shown a genuine concern as the sorry, lifeless bodies have been recovered and pored over. The owl release that lifted me mid week was carried out with a surge of genuine happiness from all involved and here too I recognised the strength of emotion that arises around these sentient beings. I will hold closely these moments of gentle compassion as a soothing reminder that there are good times ahead.
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