photos taken with Canon EOS 30D and 50mm lens
Showing posts with label barn owl. Show all posts
Showing posts with label barn owl. Show all posts
Monday, September 19, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Barn Owls
I've been out for the day, ringing Barn Owls in Cambridgeshire.
The owls themselves (this is a young owl, almost ready to fly) are beautifully coloured and softer than you could imagine.
photos taken with Canon EOS 30D
Tuesday, July 06, 2010
Moth fever continues...
Sorry if you don't really like moths. This might be getting a bit boring for you.
But surely you can appreciate the unique... beauty of the male Drinker moth?
To show it's not all moths for me these days, I found this Barn Owl feather on the lawn. Its owner must have dropped it there overnight
Top of the Moth Pops:
But surely you can appreciate the unique... beauty of the male Drinker moth?
The Drinker. The ALF of the moth world.
It was clear last night and so a bit colder than it has been. I had to put on a fleece when I went outside to attend to the trap (at about 5am). We had our lowest number of Privet Hawkmoths yet - 'only' two!
Privet Hawkmoth
Eyed Hawkmoth
Elephant Hawkmoth numbers were up, to 9
Top of the Moth Pops:
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Watched by owls
I spent an hour in the garden this evening, standing on a heap of rotting grass clippings. Maybe it's not what everyone would choose to do on a Tuesday night, but it suited me just fine.
On Saturday night I was mooching around in the garden around dusk, when I heard Barn Owl calls. Eventually I spotted two white heads bobbing up and down a short distance away - some of the owlets I helped to ring last week. On Sunday night, we stood in the middle of the garden and watched as a young owl landed on the fence and tried to work out what we were.
Those encounters were pretty good. The kind of thing that would make your day if you'd been in the field, but in our garden. We're spoiled. Anyone who tells you they don't like watching Barn Owls is a liar. Even the most cynical, hardened twitcher likes them, and that's a fact. Being able to observe them from my own garden is just the icing on the cake.
But tonight was something else.
From my slight vantage point under the ash tree, I watched and waited for Barn Owl activity. I was confident that when the owls came out I'd get a good view.
They took a long time to appear tonight, perhaps because of the clear sky that made the evening bright. Tawny Owls hooted from the oaks. A vole or a shrew squeaked from the nettles. Mosquitoes whined uncomfortably near my ear.
Above the hum of the combine harvesters down the road, I could hear faint hissing sounds. Eventually an adult owl appeared and went off hunting. Then two young owls appeared and took up their favourite perches.
So, I stood on my grotty heap of grass bits as the owls flew about. In the dull light it was hard to see from their plumage which owls were adults and which were youngsters, but the behaviour was different.
The young Barnies can fly quite well, but their landings are a bit... amateurish. They don't quite have the fluidity and grace of their parents yet. They circle and bob their heads up and down almost violently. I haven't really noticed adult owls doing that so much before.
After spending weeks in a dark nestbox, the big wide world must be sensory overload for the young. Every evening I watch them, they seem to be exploring their surroundings and learning... how to be an owl. I wasn't surprised when one of the owlets flew past me in a wide arc.
Then it landed on the garden fence to my right. Of course, Barn Owls are silent in flight but I heard its feet land on the wood. I didn't dare move properly so I twisted around, keeping my feet still. Not very comfortable, but it was worth a bit of discomfort. The owl bobbed its head around in circles, looking around me but not at me, it seemed.
After a couple of minutes it flew a bit further down the fence, to about 12 feet away. I stayed still! It seemed totally unconcerned by my presence, if it had even noticed. Just when I thought that was as good as it could ever get, the owl flew to the next fencepost along - about nine feet from where I stood!
I've been quite close to owls before, but always from inside a car. Being so close to a wild Barn Owl that seemed not to notice I was there was simply amazing. It was probably too close for my binoculars, and I didn't dare move while it was so close. After a few more minutes it flew off and joined its sibling not far away. They sat close together and took in their surroundings.
How am I going to top this? More tomorrow night, hopefully...
On Saturday night I was mooching around in the garden around dusk, when I heard Barn Owl calls. Eventually I spotted two white heads bobbing up and down a short distance away - some of the owlets I helped to ring last week. On Sunday night, we stood in the middle of the garden and watched as a young owl landed on the fence and tried to work out what we were.
Those encounters were pretty good. The kind of thing that would make your day if you'd been in the field, but in our garden. We're spoiled. Anyone who tells you they don't like watching Barn Owls is a liar. Even the most cynical, hardened twitcher likes them, and that's a fact. Being able to observe them from my own garden is just the icing on the cake.
But tonight was something else.
From my slight vantage point under the ash tree, I watched and waited for Barn Owl activity. I was confident that when the owls came out I'd get a good view.
They took a long time to appear tonight, perhaps because of the clear sky that made the evening bright. Tawny Owls hooted from the oaks. A vole or a shrew squeaked from the nettles. Mosquitoes whined uncomfortably near my ear.
Above the hum of the combine harvesters down the road, I could hear faint hissing sounds. Eventually an adult owl appeared and went off hunting. Then two young owls appeared and took up their favourite perches.
So, I stood on my grotty heap of grass bits as the owls flew about. In the dull light it was hard to see from their plumage which owls were adults and which were youngsters, but the behaviour was different.
The young Barnies can fly quite well, but their landings are a bit... amateurish. They don't quite have the fluidity and grace of their parents yet. They circle and bob their heads up and down almost violently. I haven't really noticed adult owls doing that so much before.
After spending weeks in a dark nestbox, the big wide world must be sensory overload for the young. Every evening I watch them, they seem to be exploring their surroundings and learning... how to be an owl. I wasn't surprised when one of the owlets flew past me in a wide arc.
Then it landed on the garden fence to my right. Of course, Barn Owls are silent in flight but I heard its feet land on the wood. I didn't dare move properly so I twisted around, keeping my feet still. Not very comfortable, but it was worth a bit of discomfort. The owl bobbed its head around in circles, looking around me but not at me, it seemed.
After a couple of minutes it flew a bit further down the fence, to about 12 feet away. I stayed still! It seemed totally unconcerned by my presence, if it had even noticed. Just when I thought that was as good as it could ever get, the owl flew to the next fencepost along - about nine feet from where I stood!
I've been quite close to owls before, but always from inside a car. Being so close to a wild Barn Owl that seemed not to notice I was there was simply amazing. It was probably too close for my binoculars, and I didn't dare move while it was so close. After a few more minutes it flew off and joined its sibling not far away. They sat close together and took in their surroundings.
How am I going to top this? More tomorrow night, hopefully...
Monday, August 03, 2009
Fluffy owlets
Who could resist a face like this?
Tonight I was privileged enough to visit a couple of Barn Owl nestboxes with Peter Wilkinson, owl guru extraordinaire. He reports a poor year for Barn Owls, a direct result of the lack of voles around at the moment. But in one box we found four growing owlets and two in the other. Fingers crossed they all make it to fledging.
photo taken with Canon Powershot A640, under supervision of Schedule 1 licence holder
Monday, July 20, 2009
Good evening garden
Soldier Beetles mating
Ladybird: The Movie
The Barn Owl was thrilling. Some Swallow alarm calls alerted me to its presence, hunting over the field at the back of the garden. I watched it floating to and fro - and heard it dive into the grass - before deciding that I really should be outside with my camera.
Next, I watched it from the kitchen and saw it fly along next-door's garden fence. I ran to the front door and opened it as quietly as I could - just in time to watch the owl cross our garden about 10 feet away!
The sun had nearly disappeared over the horizon. Pointlessly, I crept outside, trying not to rustle. Pointless, I suppose, because it could probably hear my stomach digesting my dinner from half a mile away, never mind me trudging over the lawn.
I didn't have to wait long before the Barn Owl flew towards my position in the garden. Closer and closer and closer... It's amazing how they seem not to spot you until you do something like press a button and the camera makes a great big noisy clicking sound... It veered off across the field.
photos and video taken with Canon Powershot A640
owl photo taken with Canon EOS 30D, EF 300mm f/4L IS USM
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Evening light
I love spring evening light. OK, you probably get it in summer and autumn as well, but maybe it's that I notice it now, while I appreciate the lengthening evenings most.
This evening I was standing in the garden by the pond. Yep, you guessed it, I was watching newts (two Great Cresteds were lurking in there). Next, I turned my attention to the Swallows twittering overhead when they suddenly sounded scared and agitated (it's great when birds tell you that other birds are nearby. You just need to learn to understand them).
Eventually I traced the source of their irritation to a pale shape swooping along, just up the road. Great! I thought. Barn Owl. It reappeared after a couple of minutes. Went out of sight, then popped up right in front of me. It got within about 15 feet - silently - before clocking me and swerving away. I was annoyed I'd disturbed his hunting, but it turned out for the best.
The owl turned towards the road verge (living dangerously, but it's where to find food). He hovered for a split second before folding back his wings and diving headfirst into the cow parsley. After 30 seconds, he flew up again, carrying a fat vole. It was perfect.
This evening I was standing in the garden by the pond. Yep, you guessed it, I was watching newts (two Great Cresteds were lurking in there). Next, I turned my attention to the Swallows twittering overhead when they suddenly sounded scared and agitated (it's great when birds tell you that other birds are nearby. You just need to learn to understand them).
Eventually I traced the source of their irritation to a pale shape swooping along, just up the road. Great! I thought. Barn Owl. It reappeared after a couple of minutes. Went out of sight, then popped up right in front of me. It got within about 15 feet - silently - before clocking me and swerving away. I was annoyed I'd disturbed his hunting, but it turned out for the best.
The owl turned towards the road verge (living dangerously, but it's where to find food). He hovered for a split second before folding back his wings and diving headfirst into the cow parsley. After 30 seconds, he flew up again, carrying a fat vole. It was perfect.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Owl
I've just got in from watching owls. I was sitting at the computer with the window open and could hear faint rasping noises... Opening the window and leaning out, the noises were more audible and revealed the source to be a Barn Owl.
Looked down the road and, silhouetted against a beautiful sky, was a hunting owl, flapping gently - almost butterfly-like - and silently disappeared behind one of the barns.
It's one of those ultra-clear evenings where the sky goes through a gradient of deep blue (with stars) at the top, through orange and yellow to a dull, ashy brown where it hits the horizon.
It seemed too good to miss, so I went to stand outside in the garden. I couldn't see the owl, but I could hear it calling as it flew around in the dark. It's really hard to describe Barn Owl noises. They do vary a lot, but this one sounded almost insect-like, slightly whirring, a bit Nightjarry, maybe.
Looked down the road and, silhouetted against a beautiful sky, was a hunting owl, flapping gently - almost butterfly-like - and silently disappeared behind one of the barns.
It's one of those ultra-clear evenings where the sky goes through a gradient of deep blue (with stars) at the top, through orange and yellow to a dull, ashy brown where it hits the horizon.
It seemed too good to miss, so I went to stand outside in the garden. I couldn't see the owl, but I could hear it calling as it flew around in the dark. It's really hard to describe Barn Owl noises. They do vary a lot, but this one sounded almost insect-like, slightly whirring, a bit Nightjarry, maybe.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)