Ool

This isn't really my story, but I'm going to tell it anyway, because I was there when it happened. I hope A won't object, but if you never hear from me again... you'll know that he did.

So, I was standing on the road verge alongside the owl field wall this afternoon, chatting with my friend A. We were happily exchanging complaints about all the things that were wrong: the light (too contrasty), the owls (too distant), the traffic (too much), etc., etc., when a car slowed to a halt next to us, and the window went down. 

"What are you all looking at?" said the driver. 

"Short-eared owls," said A, who has what I've always thought is a rather soft Belfast accent. 

"What??" said the driver. 

"Sorry," said A, "it's my accent - no-one can ever understand me. I'll spell it for you: O-W-L." 

"Ool???" said the driver. "What's an ool???"

I'd best not repeat what A said after the guy had driven away, but I was laughing so hard I almost went back to coughing up kidneys. About a minute later another chap stopped, and got distinctly - and unreasonably - snippy when A tried to make sure that he'd understood the explanation A had given him. And about a minute after that someone else stopped, and this time I took one for the team and bellowed "SHORT-EARED OWLS. YOU'RE WELCOME," almost before I'd even been asked what we were all photographing.

After this I decided that there were better - or at least quieter - ways to spend an afternoon, so I walked round onto the north side of the field, where there were no cars and almost no other photographers, and no-one at all spoke to me until Hillyblips arrived about twenty minutes later. The two of us spent the rest of the time till sunset chatting amicably, and just occasionally leaping into action when an owl flew reasonably near. 

I came home firmly believing that all of my best photos of the day were taken during a single flypast along the north wall, but going through my files this evening I found a short sequence of shots of this very pale owl, which I took from the roadside wall. Ideally I'd like more light on the owl's face, but its underwings and body are beautifully lit, and I love the tense but tidy way it's holding its feet. Those pale furry toes look wonderfully strokeable, until you remember that they end in vicious talons that will be the last thing seen by any field vole too slow to avoid them.