Dusky

Today was a much trickier day at the owl field than yesterday (or Wednesday, according to friends who were there then), which was a shame for all the people who'd seen enticing photos on their socials over the past two evenings, and decided this morning to take the chance on it being a third exceptional owling day in a row. On the plus side it was a few degrees warmer than yesterday, which was helpful considering how long we all stood around with nothing to do to warm us up, but it was windier, and the light was nowhere near as good. I spent a while chatting to a few people I know, then walked down the lane on the promise of a Barn Owl - which was in the field where I'd been told to look, but was so far away that frankly it might as well have been in the next county.

At this juncture Hillyblips arrived, spotted me, and came to see what I was up to. The answer being "not much", we walked back to the crossroads and stood there for a while, exchanging news and views. I was preparing to call it a day and go back to my car when someone trotted past us issuing the owlers' alarm call, and we instantly swung into action. By this time it was gone half past three, and the light was dire on much of the field, but for the next half hour there was frantic owl activity all around - and above - us, and we made the best of it we could. This was the best shot I got of the closest fly-by we enjoyed, but my second photo is also worth a look, if you have the time: it shows the same owl flipping into a dive, and was taken just a minute before my main image.

Just before 4pm I looked at my ISO and admitted defeat, though there were multiple owls still flying, and when I got back to the cross wall the verge was still jammed with photographers, all standing elbow to elbow. I guess the people with fast prime lenses would still have been able to shoot at that point, but I was glad to pack away my camera, turn on my heated car seat, and reach for my flask of coffee.

As I was driving away the day produced its final surprise. Turning at the crossroads where HB and I had been standing, I saw a chap I didn't know standing on the verge, pointing a camera towards the hedgerow opposite, and glancing up I found that I was driving right underneath a perched Short-eared Owl. I pulled into a passing place just down the road, stopped illegally, and got out of the car, but by the time I'd fetched the camera from the boot the owl had thought better of its perch, and was flying away. Which was really just as well, because by this point it was as near dark as made no practical difference. The incident reminded me of a story I'd heard earlier: one of the local farmers told someone I know that when she took her dog out for a walk a few mornings back, she came out of her yard and saw a line of Shorties stretching away down the lane, one to each fence post. While a tale like that from a photographer would cause a sardonic lift of the eyebrow, from a farmer it has the ring of truth, and it reinforces the sense we have that the area is currently pretty much packed with Short-eared Owls.