The owls benefited from this sustained dry spell which took us through April and May. During April I barely saw an owl but continued to dutifully deliver the food which I knew they would need with females sitting so early in the season . The vole population hadn't built up sufficiently to provide for so many mouths and as my feeding had lulled them into sitting so soon I had an obligation to help them. As May arrived I began to hear that soothing familiar hiss of the barn owlets calling for food and the parents became more noticeable once more despite the settled weather.
This incessant rain is not welcomed by the owls. As their owlets grow and become more demanding they have suddenly found it impossible to hunt. I sense their urgency as I walk down. I feel ambiguous about seeing them flying so bravely. It is thrilling to watch them so brazen, circling me as I walk and flying alongside me but I know it is simply out of necessity and that concerns me.
Last night I chose to wait and watch them. All of the adults wait for me by the house but there is a kestrel here too. It flies in first, much to the owls disdain. It has the audacity to sit over the food choosing carefully but they are too impatient and fly in sending him upwards and away. Most of the adults fly back to their tree perches and I assume they eat my offerings whilst I drop food at the other three feeding stations. One, however flies over to the sheds and I run back in that direction hoping to see which nest box it takes the food to. I am far too slow and it is in and away again before I arrive in this quarter.
The oldest owlets are delightful. They must be about five weeks old. I know because they come right out of the nest box when I whistle and peer precariously over the edge of the nest box to look at me. It is beginning to rain yet still they jostle to take a peep at me. The hissing reaches a crescendo and I realise that for their safety I need to walk as quietly and unobtrusively to their nest box so as not to cause any of them to fall. Yet still I delight at their fluffy little hair styles and those large obsidian eyes staring directly at me.
The little owls, meanwhile have fledged. The adults make such a fuss that I can tell exactly where their babies are by their increased vocalisations. One of the adults watches me with that indignant look upon its face from the shed roof struts. It looks as if the wind has changed whilst it was having grumpy thoughts and this is now its default mode. I worry for the youngsters with so much activity from the other raptors but there is little I can do but hope they stay safe.
Over by the grain store there is an area in the shadows. I settle down to watch, hidden in the darkness. If I had momentarily forgotten how silent barn owls are in flight I was to have it beautifully illustrated to me. Within a couple of minutes the first owl glided in so very close to me that its wing tip nearly brushed my cheek. It was accompanied by another owl further away but they weren't a pair. The second bird landed deftly upon the platform and flew straight back out of the farm. It too had owlets but not here. The other owl busied itself. I watched in fascination as it took a chick from the platform beneath its box, flew to the shed to rearrange its grip and then straight back up to the box. It did this four times in quick succession. The noise from the box was immense, akin to something from a horror movie. The screeching intensified and they scuffled and squabbled over the food. Talons scraped across the box floor making them sound demonic. It was hard to imagine that such almost supernatural noises were coming from those endearing bundles of fluff.
I had waited specifically to find out a little more about the shed pair. I still rarely see the adult birds taking food in and cannot help but wonder if this brood has failed. Perhaps this pair are more competent hunters and as such less reliant upon me but I would have expected more activity. As I stood silently the female returned. She sat on her door gap and peered below at the food. Meanwhile the adult that had been feeding the hungry owlets continued to collect food, and alighted just below her. I watched in admiration as these two birds sat quite companionably close to each other. I have seen their territorial side and it is quite terrifying yet here they sat together, bound by the common cause of providing for their families. As they both flew off to their nest sites I took my leave, happy to learn something new about these formidable birds.
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