Braver and braver

After weeks of barely the glimmer of a white wing from my barn owls the past couple of weeks couldn't be more different. One regularly meets me along the road and flies buoyantly along beside me as I walk into the farm yard whilst others circle upwards to my whistling. They wait amid the newly unfurled leaves, sitting patiently yet keenly anticipating the food that I take them. As I walk away from my first feeding station they fly in, trusting my movements and knowing I will continue across the yard.

We know there are owlets in the nest box on eastern edge of the dutch barn and their hissing becomes more audible by the day. Despite my familiarity with the owls I have been amazed by the sheer brazenness of this adult pair. They fly to the nest box with food whilst I am dropping more food at the furthermost end just twenty metres away. I walk back past their nest box to leave the yard but this does not deter them. This week I watched as the female left the nest box and flew to the shed feeding platform. There she sat staring intently at me with those dark, all seeing eyes before dismissing me and flying straight back up to her hungry brood. It feels such a huge honour to be acknowledged and almost accepted in this way, to be trusted with their secret that they have guarded so well up until now. Watching them busily feeding their growing brood like this each evening I anticipate a good number of owlets for this pair which were new to the farm last year.

Our regular pair still frequent the box in the shed just a few metres from the east nest box. I watch them leave here and sometimes return but I worry that they are intimidated by the braver pair close by. I remind myself that their broods were both later than the ones in east nest box last year and as such there will be less urgency from them. There is a second entrance to this secure nest site which the owls can access from across the grass field. I am also reassured that here is plenty of food and the weather favours good hunting opportunities. This pair have reared two broods at this nest site for the past two years and despite my concerns I am optimistic for them.

But my owlish escapades are no longer just an evening spectacle. I am now fortunate enough to receive a morning performance too. With the settled weather I am not seeing the barn owls hunting by morning light but both the kestrels and the little owls wait for me as I walk the dog. There are a pair of kestrels in the nest box on the westernmost corner of the dutch barn but there is also a rogue male and I suspect at least one of these birds if not both are the youngsters we saved last summer. The little owls appear to be nesting in the straw stack as they did last year. That makes four nests of raptors in the space of thirty metres. I just leave two day old chicks on the platform under the kestrel box and stand back to watch. My most spectacular moment of the week occurred when the feisty little owl flew in first to secure its breakfast closely followed by the rogue kestrel. The owl dragged its breakfast after it but dislodged the second chick which the kestrel caught in mid air. I was lucky to capture these shots. that morning but am captivated every day as I watch to see who is waiting and how the drama unfolds.

But it is now apparent that although the owls and kestrels are continuing to perpetuate the circle of life, this year we will not have the opportunity to find out for sure what delights those nest boxes contain. As with many things in these present uncertain times there will be no ringing of the owlets, for first broods at least. Despite Paddy rarely seeing anyone as he checks the boxes across field and fen, his journey and purpose is deemed unnecessary and as such he will not be visiting. It is a shame yet totally understandable in the circumstances.

So last week I ordered this, a  new trail cam which should capture anything that occurs when I am no longer in the farm. Initially I hope to put it in the shed as these are the birds I am most concerned to find out about. Its time to get technical!!

New arrivals.

After the rain towards the end of April, May has arrived all in a rush. Cow parsley appeared apparently overnight to wave elegantly as I walked across the grass field.The trees came into leaf as the blossom burst forth and their branches bowed with such weight that the very tips reached down to meet the grass heads stretching upwards. Despite this being my eighth spring with the owls, this greenery felt a little oppressive. Perhaps it was the suddenness with which this abundance appeared but I suspect that the mood of my evening jaunt was made just a little eerie by the silence that now accompanies me. The lockdown means there are no cars. The only sound is the scream of a fox, the bark of a deer across the fields or the chiding of the little owl. This week, however, I am excited to report a different noise.

The barn owls are thankfully returning. To begin with I noticed just the slightest of an increase; an owl's flight against the sunset as I walked into the yard or the slightest movement in the periphery of my vision close to the house. It felt more like a whisper but a definite return to what I had become accustomed to. I watched two together on the shed and I was unsure whether their interactions were friendly or not, yet they seem to be tolerating each other. I observed another enter the shed although it didn't leave again whilst I watched which was reassuring. My biggest surprise was watching an owl alight on the feeding platform by the shed and then exit the farm and fly north. I thought fondly about the bird that visits every summer from this direction and hope it continues to call.

Surprisingly however, the highlight of my week came in the form of a creature that I know frequents the farm, yet one I rarely see. I was leaving the food mid week and panning the torch around low across the grass when I picked out two amber eyes. I held them with the torchlight and walked rapidly towards them. Twice they moved before returning their gaze upon me. The movement was rapid, too quick for a cat and although I was intrigued to find out exactly what I was watching I was also apprehensive. I was now way out across the grass field lured into the darkness by this unseen creature. Just as selkies lure sailors into danger I sensed this creature was tempting me out into the swaying sea of grass but still I continued. I got within a few yards of it and was enchanted to see a fox, its eyes fixed intently upon me, its little ears pricked, every sense alert. I dropped the torch and let it go. Despite being captivated I was a little uneasy. Had it been waiting for the food? I was unsure how foxes and owls would mix and I knew owlets would be vulnerable. I needn't have worried. I haven't seen it since and guess that it was simply as curious about me as I was about it.

But I have been saving the best until last. An increase in owls can only mean one thing; owlets. Three adults regularly meet me which I imagine means one female is still sitting and the pair that wait together in the walnut tree must have owlets to feed. I listen as best I can for that faint yet insistent hissing that tells me owlets are present. It is so faint initially, barely an utterance but I know that at around ten days they will begin with this heart warming sound. Those who know me will be aware that my hearing is atrocious. Not only can I simply not hear sounds in the lower range but the sounds I do hear often seem to be coming from elsewhere. Last night Sam indulged me and walked down with me. We stood together outside the shed but he shook his head. It was a different matter under east nest box. He pointed each time he heard the hissing and once it was pointed out to me I could hear it too. This made sense as this box was the first to have owlets in it last year and barn owl pairs tend to be faithful to nest sites. We must have looked ridiculous standing there pointing and laughing quietly to ourselves in the moonlight. I headed home smiling, pleased to think we would have owlets to watch out for once more.

So there it is, a little bit of good news in a world of uncertainty. It feels reassuring to know that in these unprecedented times nature is a constant.