An Interesting Two Days 5-6th December 2024

BBC's Countryfile decided to film a piece about Farmoor Reservoir for a future programme and set Thursday the 5th of December as the day when they would film, planning to  spend all day at the reservoir. I was flattered to be volunteered by Thames Water to talk about the birds, having written a booklet listing the birds that have, over the years, been recorded there -250 species at the last count including 12 national rarities

I was delighted to discover that the person interviewing me would be John Craven, he of John Craven's Newsround that I grew up with in the 1970's. I always imagined him to be a really nice man and was delighted to find out that he was.

Originally it was planned to do the first bit of filming in the Pinkhill Reserve Hide then transfer to the reservoir's causeway but there has been so much rainfall lately that the reserve and surrounding fields, which lie adjacent  to the River Thames, are inundated with water and the waterfowl have dispersed, resulting in nothing to be seen on the reserve, so it was decided to go directly to the causeway

Walking the causeway with John  we talked to camera about the birds on the reservoir. Unfortunately due to the time of year there was not a lot to see but the Countryfile crew seemed  to be reasonably happy to hear about the winter residents, such as Tufted Ducks, Great crested Grebes and Cormorants with a diversion into my birding exploits with regard to twitching. 

Of much interest to me was how the programme was put together with conversation pieces being filmed and then John providing a spoken link.The one great advantage of it not being live was if you messed up a take it could be done all over again.

At first a little nervous, once we got going everything was fine and I forgot about the cameras and sound man and just chatted with John as if nothing was more natural.

After lunch we concentrated on the gull roost and then with the weather, as predicted closing in and dusk imminent, my day of minor celebrity came to a conclusion.

The programme I have been told will be broadcast on the 5th of January 2025

The next day, Friday the weather had improved sufficiently for me to contemplate doing some proper birding. After what seemed an interminable time my camera has finally returned from being repaired so I was keen to try it out to re-assure myself that all was now well with it. 

My home in northwest Oxfordshire does not lie that far from the western edge of The Cotswolds which is in Gloucestershire.  Unlike my part of the Oxfordshire Cotswolds it is wilder with less habitation and consists of open rolling countryside at some elevation. Nearby and lower lies the town of Cheltenham. In this area is a well known location consisting of large uncultivated fields of rough grass, not that far from a busy road and where Short eared Owls come every year in varying numbers. This year by all reports is a good one for the owls with up to ten being present.

Turning off the main road I took to a narrow lane for half a mile, thence to turn onto an even narrower lane that brought me to the fields in question. I should at this point mention that so popular has this place become with photographers it can sometimes get very busy, especially on weekends with people travelling considerable distances for the opportunity to photograph the owls. Inconsiderate birders and photographers cars parked on the narrow verge have caused some friction and not everyone locally is happy about the disturbance to this isolated part of the Gloucester countryside.

From my point of view the lanes are public roads with anyone having the right to use them and the owls are not troubled by the presence of cars and people. So long as everyone observes the rules which are not to encroach into the fields and not to block the lanes I fail to see why there should be any objections.

Today there were hardly any people present when I got there at 11.30am, maybe a dozen at most and I chose to forgo the most popular spots to observe the owls and consequently, for the most part I was on my own, standing by a crumbling drystone wall that marked the boundary between lane and field. 

A passing birder told me that he had seen numerous owls flying around since 9am which is unusual as they normally do not hunt so early. I could only speculate that yesterday's mainly inclement weather had prevented them from hunting successfully and hunger had persuaded them to rise early to hunt for their vole prey

Today marked a hiatus in weather systems, a period that was almost windless before the forecast Storm Darragh  arrived, bringing rain and winds of considerable violence, theatening gusts of 80mph, to batter Britain in the early hours of tomorrow,.There would be no hunting in such wind for the owls so they had better get on with it today in this brief but welcome window of weather respite and opportunity.

The days are short now as we approach the winter solstice, the longest night but three weeks hence and already at noon the light was beginning to fade and the air grow cold. The earlier sunshine had long since retreated behind a covering of cloud, the trees and hawthorn bushes, now in thrall to mid winter, are reduced to nothing more than  stark bones of bare branch and twig, long ago stripped of berries by the migrant thrushes that arrived in the autumn. There was no bird song at this time of day apart from a thin trickle of notes conjoured up by a Robin but it soon fell silent. Anxiety has been my unwelcome companion all my life but despite the stillness and silence of this typical winter's day which can be unsettling I felt no such care, in fact quite the reverse. 

I contemplated the tussocky field before me that rose by means of a gentle slope to a ridge with a freize of dark trees  behind.Looking to my right, in the distance a drystone wall ran at right angles from the wall I stood by, to partition the field I faced from another equally large field beyond.

Occasionally I caught a glimpse of an owl flying, alternating from side to side, above the dividing wall, first visible and then not so. Even at a distance their hunting  flight renders them utterly distinctive,  hesitant with slow beats of long, rounded wings that are marbled brown and buff, they fly like a giant, heavy headed, unstable moth, dipping and swerving, tilting from side to side as they pass low over the ground with the occasional dive into the rank grass after a vole, which nine times out of ten appears to be unsuccssful.

It was not long before an owl came reasonably close, passing halfway up the field in front of me.Here was my chance to check my camera and make any necessary adjustments.The lack of sunlight and consequent gloominess was not conducive to photography but this was alright as it tested my ability to practice the correct settings on my camera.

The owl disappeared but in the distance I could see another four owls, circling high in the grey sky having a dispute and calling with discordant, sharp, barking cries before separating and dropping back to earth.

A car came down the lane and the driver, presumably a birder asked me if any owls were here, informing me that the owls had been showing well half a mile up the lane but I was content by my wall, happy in my own company. In situations such as here and where to be left alone is a rare event it is only when I can endeavour to be free of company that I feel in harmony with the land and the overall experience becomes its most  enjoyable..

For the next hour and a half no more owls patrolled the field but it was no hardship, as alone I contemplated  a landscape declining towards day's end, the air still as if holding its breath in anticipation of the approaching elemental turbulence. Pheasants became increasingly noisy, the cocks croaking challenges to one another from the long grass, a Raven 'cronked' from a tall tree in the distance as small flocks of twittering Goldfinches passed overhead. A pair of wintering stonechats followed each other across the field, perching on prominent dead stems, tiny dark images, that dived to earth in a sea of withered grass chasing after ants and spiders, then to re-emerge and once more achieve prominence on an elevated perch.The melancholy contact calls of a pair of Bullfinches, unseen in a nearby isolated hawthorn served to enhance the sense of abandonment here and winter's dormant emptiness. 

After a long wait another owl flew over the field, this time  to cross the lane and disappear into the distance behind me. I felt a chill wind commencing so at shortly after three pm I left. It would be dark in another hour. 

I had been fortunate to see this final Short eared Owl so close, if only for a minute.

There will be other days to see them this winter of that I am certain.