A Few Hours at Farmoor 14th February 2025

Friday arrived and at last sunshine broke the monotony of a succession of grey days that have now become an almost permament and depressing fixture here in my part of Oxfordshire.

I decided to take advantage of this window of opportunity and made for my local Farmoor Reservoir at noon, hardly expecting to see much to get excited about but pleased to be away from the house.

At the back of my mind were a pair of European Stonechats that have set up a winter territory on the west side of Farmoor Two, the larger basin. I thought it would be nice to photograph them assuming they were still there.

Opting to  not initially walk the central causeway I chose to go 'the other way', heading left around Farmoor Two and eventually return via the causeway. The sun was bright and low on the horizon, shining into my eyes as I turned left from the car park and set off along the perimeter track.A southeast wind, blew into my face, cold and strong enough to turn the reservoir's waters into a corrugation of small waves that came to slap futilely against the shelving concrete at the water's edge.

A huddle of four Little Grebes had found a sunny spot by the wall of the valve tower where the water was less troubled and were whiling away the hours, preening or fussing amongst themselves as they ceaselessly bobbed up and down, their tiny bodies made even more rotund than usual by feathers fluffed against the chill wind, their tailess bottoms like powder puffs. 

All four remained in a winter plumage of unexceptional and varying shades of buff brown, the only striking feature being the pale lemon yellow adornments at the base of their stub like bills

It alway strikes me as odd that these tiny creatures, so reclusive when breeding, hiding within thick stands of reeds on ponds and small secluded lakes, choose to spend the winter on the open and expansive waters of the  reservoir and almost exclusively choose the larger more exposed of the two basins. They are obviously aware of their vulnerability and will often seek to hide beside the buoys or pontoons that are moored in the reservoir for the use of the yacht club. I can only think that the plentiful supply of small fish that inhabit the shallow edges of the reservoir outweighs the inherent dangers of frequenting such open water.

Today I counted twelve, in three groups of four each, which is a good number for Farmoor and whilst standing watching them going about their day I pondered if this comparatively high number reflected the fact that most were migrants rather than overwintering birds, making their way back to their breeding locations.They will certainly not breed here as only one pair to my knowledge do so and that is on the small Pinkhill Reserve at the western end of the reservoir beside the Thames

Leaving the grebes to enjoy their sunny spot I moved on a few hundred metres to where the perimeter track curved to the right around the southeastern edge of the reservoir, stopping to admire a small gathering of Coots and Tufted Ducks. These two are often found in association as the reservoir is overrun with the invasive quagga mussel which the Tufted Ducks dive for and the Coots try to steal from the ducks when they surface with a mussel.

The ducks, wise to the Coots motives, mainly swallow the mussels underwater but those that they bring to the surface are often stolen by the Coots.The Coot's bill is not substantial enough to open the mussel but the attraction for the Coots is the weed that adheres to the shell of the mussel. On gaining a mussel the Coot will bring it to shore in order to pick at the weed which it removes and eats 

This arrangement seems to work and both the Coots and Tufted Ducks for the most part exist in harmony.

At the peak of winter there can be hundreds of Coots wintering here and the same goes for the Tufted Ducks but now the numbers have decreased as wintering individuals move away, heading back towards their breeding areas. Some Tufted Ducks can go as far as Siberia, the Coots maybe not so far but no one can say for certain.

Today a Coot and a male Tufted Duck were taking time out to rest on the concrete shelving which is not an uncommon sight, when later in the day parts of the reservoir are less frequented by human visitors.

As the winter progresses the birds inevitably become familiar with the now regular and increased passing of people on the perimeter track, using the reservoir as a safe leisure facility and can be approached quite closely without being unduly alarmed. It never fails to disappoint me how many people just walk by ignoring these birds that normally they would not get so close to. Stop and look if but for a few seconds. I can guarantee you will feel a benefit.

The drake Tufted Duck is a very striking bird in its breeding plumage of contrasting black and white, the head when caught at certain angles in the sunlight glows with green and purple iridescence, the whole set off by a bill of palest blue and bright, golden yellow eyes. 

The two males pictured above show a marked difference in the length of their tufts

I read somewhere that one can tell older male Tufted Ducks from younger ones by the length of the tuft.How true this is I do not know but a cursory inspection of some of the males today certainly demonstrated that their tufts varied considerably in length 

I moved onwards, coming to a metal pontoon used by the yacht club, two thirds of the way along the southern bank. I stood in contemplative mood looking out across the blue waters to the distant causeway opposite. From the corner of my eye I saw a small wader fly from the concrete shelving to the left of where I stood and out to the pontoon jutting out into the reservoir. I knew what it was or at least had a strong suspicion that it was the wintering Common Sandpiper that has decided to forgo the hazards of flying to its Southern Hemisphere winter home in Africa and risk toughing it out at Farmoor in the Northern Hemisphere. The risk seems to have paid off as it appears in robust health and hopefully the worst of our winter has now passed. Questions inevitably arise, the most obvious being whether this bird's unusual presence is a sign of increasing global warming. but more esoteric is why does one individual such as this decide to ignore its genetic programming and not travel to its normal winter quarters thousands of miles south. There is still so much we do not comprehend about birds and why they do what they do.

This is the third year in a row that a Common Sandpiper has wintered at the reservoir. Some have suggested that it has been the same individual in all three years but I think not. For the first two years a Common Sandpiper favoured the filter beds on the far side of Farmoor 1, the smaller basin and remained faithful to them to a greater extent throughout both winters. So possibly this was the same individual in both winters. However this winter the Common Sandpiper has mainly favoured the southern and western parts of Farmoor 2 and has to a large extent remained loyal to that area.Whatever the answer and I guess we will never know, I feel I am making an educated guess that it is a different individual this winter 

The feeding opportunities along the concrete shelving has obviously been adequate enough to sustain this latest wintering bird even in the harshest parts of winter..The reservoir never freezes over and the water's edge remains free of ice and presumably retains enough invertebrate life to sustain the sandpiper.

Due to its prolonged stay the sandpiper has become much less wary than is normal for their kind. Common Sandpipers are without doubt one of the wariest of migrant waders that visit the reservoir and will flush well before you get anywhere near them.This one however is the opposite and will allow relatively close approach so I made the most of this happy circumstance while it remained on the pontoon. Eventually it flew to the concrete shelving by the water's edge and I left it to wander amongst some sleepy Mallards in its ongoing search for food.

I was by now nearing the stonechats favoured location, a decrepit plastic coated wire fence that runs along part of the western boundary of the reservoir but before I got there I stopped to check a group of Cormorants idling away the time on yet another of the yacht club's pontoons.

Cormorants are a regular feature here, virtually year round and you can hardly blame them as Thames Water conveniently stocks both reservoir basins with trout for the fishermen that pay quite a lot of money to come and catch them.There were around twenty birds on the pontoon, some asleep, others holding wings out to dry and most looked to be adults although there was one brown individual that must have been born last year. Cormorants do not breed or gain full adult plumage until they are three years old. Some of the adults were gaining their rather spectacular breeding plumage whereby a basically black, featureless bird becomes something much more varied and colourful.

One bird in particular was well advanced,with a head that was most noticeably different to its neigbours, the black crown and sides of the neck replaced with fine white feathering as if dusted with icing sugar.The cheeks also white contrasted with an area, (called the gular pouch) of  reddish orange and olive yellow bare skin adjoining a bill  mottled grey on the upper and white on the lower mandible Quite a dramatic transformation. Blue green eyes and wing feathers with an olive caste, neatly outlined in black added to the subtle beauty of a bird often derided as unattractive in appearance and clumsy in its action

The Cormorant  at Farmoor that was in full breeding plumage and which I consider
identifiable as of the British race P.c.carbo due to the acute angle of the gular pouch  

The Cormorants that come here are of two races Phalacrocorax.c sinensis colloquially called the 'Continental Cormorant' and P. c carbo the 'British Cormorant' and there appeared to be a mixture of the two on the pontoon. A not totally failsafe way to identify them is by noting the angle of the gular pouch which is more acute on carbo than it is on sinenis

Two Cormorants with possibly carbo on the left and sinensis on the right

Colour ringed Cormorants are seen  from time to time and two such examples in past winters were identified as coming from Wales and northern Scotland and indeed today there was one with a green plastic ring on its left leg but it was impossible to read the white inscription, try as I did to get a  photograph, but the angles made it impossible to record the white lettering on the ring so I had to remain frustrated.

Now I made for the fence and its hoped for complement of stonechats.Would they be there? The answer was a disappointing and deflating - no. I could hardly believe it as they have been an almost permanent presence these last few weeks. They are partial to the fence as it provides an elevated  look out on which to perch and drop down on prey in the open grass that lies below the fence on either side. Incidentally although these are a pair they will not breed here and may well split up and both pair with a different mate later at wherever they go to breed.

Not prepared to give up I walked through the gate that leads outside of the reservoir and down the zigzag sloping path to view the fence from the other side.Still nothing was evident to excite me and I resigned myself to not seeing them.

Taking one last glance at the fence through my bins, there appeared a distant tiny blob perched on top of the fence.It was as I hoped. A stonechat. At last. 

Moving closer, much closer, I could see it was the male of the pair..He remained perched there for some time and eventually was joined by his mate that flew up from the ground below. I moved closer, intent on getting a photo or two of them but they were wary. Sometimes it can go either way with stonechats..Last year a similar pair on exactly the same fence allowed me to get very close but this year not so, although the female appeared more confiding than the male, who was very skittish and his nervousness clearly transmitted to the female.

European Stonechat -female

I stalked them from both sides of the fence but it was difficult and the outcome unsatisfactory. They would make long flights away from me and in some cases disappeared altogether only to suddenly re-appear much further along the fence. I got some images from long range and accepted I had to be content with that.Nevertheless it was nice to see them, watch their robin like behaviour and admire their jaunty personalities

European Stonechat - male

European Stonechat- female

My time was up but for the last two hours I had indulged myself in the natural world that is all around us and came away feeling content and fulfilled. 

It is not always about rare birds

Owl Therapy 5th February 2025

We all have bad dreams Last night I had a recurrence of this unpleasantness that sometimes besets me in times of stress. Those convoluted memories that lurk in the deepest recesses of my brain and I thought had been forgotten dredged up, a by product of the anxiety that haunts me but now familiar enough to be generally bearable when they occur. Last night they came thick and fast, memories of events years ago, grotesquely distorted, plumbed from the unfathomable maze of synapses in my brain. These nightmares leave me on edge and disoriented when I awaken, unsettled and unable to function properly.The temptation to lie in bed and fret is ever present but from experience I know my discomfort will not depart by so doing and it is best to rise and do something, anything to take my mind off my situation and when I do the worst of the bad feelings depart and I find myself in a much better place.

This morning I felt more low than for some while, the grey, dispiriting gloom of the previous days not helping my mood and knew I  needed something to lift me out of the mental rut in which I found myself,. Something other than the usual remedies  that I revert to in such situations. On the positive side it was a bright sunny morning so salvation would best be found outside of the house but where? Last Saturday I took immense enjoyment from watching the Short eared Owls at Hawling in Gloucestershire. I like the place and who cannot fail to be thrilled when surrounded by the daylight hunting owls.This I determined would be the perfect antidote to my situation.

Fast forward two hours and I was stood by a drystone wall on a now familiar elevated plateau near Hawling where a large acreage of rough grass fields, home to the owls, stretched away beyond the wall, its stones now ancient but laid with such care and skill by a craftsman's long forgotten hand  that they still formed an effective barrier despite the passage of time, the mosses and lichens staining the mottled grey and white stones, testament to its ancient ancestry.and that brought a sense of the historical past to this isolated spot. 

The wall formed an uneven and uncertain barrier twixt footpath and field and shows its age with obvious signs of disrepair and abandonment where the uppermost stones have come loose or fallen. but replacing or repairing them is no longer of concern, the wall's original function long redundant.

The impression of remoteness in this northern Cotswold landscape is enhanced by these stone walls, a feature that I associate with more rugged terrain and the romance of high mountains and the rough moorland of northern Britain.This in a direct contradiction to the more prosaic fences and manicured hedgerows that prevail in guarding fields in my part of the Oxfordshire Cotswolds, only a few miles to the east.

From my elevated position the land flowed away in gentle undulations and swellings, soft contours and shallow valleys,  a vision of winter emptiness stretching for miles, merging into a grey, hazy distance where land and sky became as one. The previously bright sun was now but a white amorphous disc behind a veil of thin cloud. I could feel a light  wind at my back and almost touch the silence that enveloped the land where I stood.

Birdlife, other than the owls  appears scarce but look and listen closer and there are rewards.

Pheasants, turned feral, strutted in the long grass, safe from guns in this protected area, the cocks half hidden, their burnished mahogany breast feathers, green heads and long tail spikes  all that is visible in the rank grass as they squared up to each other. An optimistic Skylark tried out a few sweet cadences, its notes almost lost in an emptiness of sky but then fell silent. Crows,their black forms stark  against the pale sky rowed their way in buoyant flight across the fields and a kestrel, borne by fast flickering wings, beat a hasty passage from hedge to a distant telephone wire. A hundred strong flock of Starlings rose from the grass, instinctively forming a synchronised hologram of black dots before raining back down to earth to fuss and probe for leatherjackets in the rough grasses. From a distant stand of bare winter trees came the wild laugh of a Green Woodpecker and later on a Barn Owl ghosted its way along a wind tattered hedgerow. 

A winter landscape but it felt that Spring is now not so far away. 

I sought a place where I could stand alone in this vast cathedral of land and sky and felt a calm come over me, now fully diverted from my earlier upset by my surroundings and the forever exciting prospect of photographing the owls for one more time. 

What would today bring? 

This time the owls came even closer and in an uncharacteristic display of self control I disciplined myself to take just individual shots and only when the owls came particularly near.

There is little fun in repeating oneself so I tried for different images this time, something out of the ordinary, more action shots than classic magazine type images. To me the camera can reveal so much more about a bird's actions than just the standard poses or classic flight images

The owls were flying virtually from when I arrived at noon and this time were more vocal than yesterday,rasping calls, sounding like distant alarmed snipe coming regularly from the flying birds as they voiced their indignation at being harassed by the opportunistic crows and kestrels.

For three hours I stood alone as the owls came and went, feeling content on the muddy footpath that crossed this high point of the Cotswolds.No mountains, no tumbling rivers or waterfalls, no glens but a gentle unthreatening landscape that although unremarkable was reward enough.

Mission accomplished.

A Day of Birding in Gloucestershire 1st February 2025

With little prospect of anything new on the bird front in my corner of northwest Oxfordshire on Saturday, my thoughts turned to neighbouring Gloucestershire and I made a tentative plan to visit three sites, all within striking distance of each other in that fair county, the boundary of which is but a fifteen minute drive from my home.

First was to be the furthest, Parkend and its village green in the Forest of Dean for Hawfinches which feed below the venerable yew trees that encircle the green and in whose dark and mysterious depths the Hawfinches delight to secrete themselves before dropping to the ground below to feed, along with the ever present Chaffinches.

It all sounds ideal but in fact the site is far from that.There is, nowadays almost constant disturbance be it from dog walkers, delivery vehicles, trail bikers, runners and even birders - you name it.The only hope of getting good views of a Hawfinch on the ground is to get to Parkend before dawn and hope you will have a small window of opportunity when the birds come down to feed before the disturbance gets too much. I have tended to avoid coming here for some years now as it gets immensely frustrating and a severe trial of one's patience and equanimity. Birding such as this is meant to be for the most part a relaxing, pleasurable pastime but watching Hawfinches at Parkend is certainly not that.

Parkend used to be very popular with birders coming to see the Hawfinches and in order to get a prime place beside the yews you had to arrive before dawn and wait for daylight to come. I assumed nothing had changed so for me it required a 5am start from my home to be in position by 7am, just as the sky commenced to lighten 

Hawfinches despite their mean, butch appearance are shy birds and generally do not arrive in the yews at first light so I expected little until the daylight intensified and so it proved. I was surprised but pleased to find I was on my own with no other birders present in their cars. I should, in passing point out that it is essential to remain in your car if you wish to see the Hawfinches on the ground.Remain in your car and they can at times come very close but get out and they immediately flee to the tops of the highest trees available and will reman there for a long time.    

The light steadily improved but it was never going to be anything than a dull and overcast Saturday.The sun would definitely be a stranger.Blackbirds commenced chasing each other around under the yews then a few Chaffinches dropped to the ground and searched for seeds in the grass and leaves.

As I watched the Chaffinches another bird caught my eye as it dropped to the ground to join them. A quick look through my bins and yes, a huge head and bill making the bird look almost top heavy confirmed the presence of a Hawfinch. Their top heavy appearance is due to the head having to be large enough to accommodate powerful jaw muscles that allow the bill to exert in excess of 50kg of pressure, enough to crack cherry stones. Its dull colouring indicated it was a female.I considered taking an image but the light was still too dull to allow for anything passable so I watched it for a minute before, to my immense frustration, a man who had parked his van on the road nearby decided to walk past me and around the green.The Hawfinch along with the Chaffinches flew up and away. It was 7.55am. I never saw the bird again but with the man having returned to his van, at 8.15 another Hawfinch descended and this time it was a much desired and more colourful male.

Their colouring is exquisite. A head of pale chestnut orange with a black eye mask and bib and an ivory white bill, merges into a dove grey neck. A brown back and white wing flash complement blue black wing feathers with frilled ends to the inner primaries.Underneath its breast and flanks are a pastel plumbeous pink.Not forgetting bubble gum pink legs and feet. A total and utter delight. I watched it feeding and then fly up into the yew disturbed by I knew not what but my luck was in as it soon dropped back down and now came much closer to the car.

I commenced taking as many images as possible all too aware that the morning's first dreaded  dog walker was approaching.I had to make the most of it and estimated I had a minute if that before it would fly off. Dog lady duly arrived and the Hawfinch departed.

What can you do? I decided to wait and see if any Hawfinches would return.The subsequent hour transpired into a severe and unrewarded test of my patience as there followed an abundance of dog walkers, runners, even the man  from the van returned for another aimless walk around the green and then a birder who should have known better got out of his car and walked under the yews. Unsurprisingly he saw nothing.The final straw came as a dozen ladies with walking poles and an instructor arrived and commenced strutting around the green practicing their nordic walking technique.

Yes I know it's not anyone's fault and I am annoyed I allowed myself to inflict such a frustrating and unsettling start to my day of birding.The one positive from all of this was I had seen both a male and female Hawfinch if only briefly. My first of this year.

I could take no more and was glad to depart Parkend. Regretfully I really do not think it is worth the effort to ever return here again, at least to see Hawfinches.There are other less taxing places to see these charismatic and appealing birds.

Before leaving the forest I drove to nearby Cannop Ponds to put Mandarin Duck on my year list. Usually a given, this murky morning there was no sign of them on the pond, but after a little searching I found seven hiding in the reeds at the edge of the pond. A Marsh Tit and a flyover Raven were also added to my list. 

It was now 1030am

My next destination was Slimbridge WWT which required a fifty minute drive to get there, doubling back over the River Severn and through the outskirts of Gloucester.The main aim of my visit was to see a Glossy Ibis which had been present for a few days, feeding in a wet field right by the  main car park and by all accounts allowing exceptionally close views.

On getting to Slimbridge I passed a group of birders/photographers  clustered round the metal gate from which you could view the ibis feeding in the field. I drove further on and parking the car got my gear together and walked back to join them confident that I too would imminently have some nice images of this unusual avian visitor from southern climes. 

Is the ibis showing? I enquired of one of those present

It was but has just flown off I was told.

Not a good start but I knew from previous reports that the ibis was prone to do this but usually returned to this, its favourite field, eventually. In the meantime I headed into the grounds to check on the other more unusual birds that had been reported recently such as a Spoonbill and a Green winged Teal as well as an out of character showy Water Rail that was coming out into the open below the bird feeders at the Willow Hide.. 

I made for the Willow Hide to find the Water Rail and encountered one other birder there who told me it had been showing well but had now vanished into the reeds. This began to sound rather familiar!

Five minutes later despondency was banished when the Water Rail re-appeared and to say it performed beautifully would be an understatement.  It showed little of this species highly strung demeanour and customary fear of its own shadow as it brazenly picked at the seed being spilled onto the water below the feeders by the visiting tits and sparrows

I gave it fifteen minutes and then left to look for the Green winged Teal but checking in all the hides no one knew of its current whereabouts as it had not been reported since  it was last seen 'showing well' from the Martin Smith Hide on Thursday. Having already seen another drake Green winged Teal on Otmoor RSPB in Oxfordshire earlier in the week  I was hardly distraught although it would have been nice to see. Unbeknown to me it was in fact close by in the grounds on South Lake but it was not reported until after I had left. 

I.went in search of the Spoonbill which was at its regular haunt of South Lake and as Spoonbills often are, fast asleep at the far end of the bund that runs out from the hide.With little prospect of it doing anything, least of all waking up it was pointless remaining and so I left the grounds and headed back to the ibis field hoping it had come to its senses and wherever it had been had decided that the wet field really was the best place to be.Even if it was not there I planned to wait in the expectation that it would return within the hour.

As I approached the gate I could see a number of people gathered there and this was surely a good omen. Sure enough on getting to the gate there was the ibis feeding in the company of a few scattered Rooks.

Glossy Ibis, indeed most ibis species are such strange looking birds, almost prehistoric as if from another age.Any sign of glossiness on this bird was difficult to make out due to the heavily overcast conditions and the fact it was a young bird in its second year of life.I could just about discern some dull purple gloss on its upperbody but to all extents and purposes this bird was an overall featureless very dark brown apart from its head and neck which were grizzled with many greyish white flecks.

However this was a good bird to see and to get on my year list so no complants from me.

I feel reasonably confident in predicting that Glossy Ibis will soon join the ranks of Great, Little and Cattle Egrets and commence breeding in this country, sooner rather than later.They are occuring increasingly frequently in Britain and this bird is by no means the first to have found Slimbridge to its liking. In fact the first Glossy Ibis I ever saw in Britain was here at Slimbridge when on the 20th April 2007 a  flock of 17 no less, arrived on the grounds and remained for a number of days. At that time Glossy Ibis were a major rarity and many people travelled especially to see them. One would have been notable but a flock was unprecedented. How times have changed.

With my main mission at Slimbridge accomplished by noon I was glad to be able to leave as Saturday was possibly not the best day to come to this enduringly popular venue which always seems to be able to attract so many visitors especially on weekends.

From Slimbridge I would now be heading east to my third and last birding choice, a place called Hawling which sits at 250m elevation on the north western edge of The Cotswolds. The target here was Short eared Owls. I had already been once this winter to see them and met with some success, see here so Hawling being but a minor diversion from my route home would round the day off very nicely indeed, spending an afternoon watching and photographing the owls as they hunted over the thirty hectares of fields set aside for them by the local farmer. Apparently these fields are not sprayed with any chemicals which allows a healthy population of voles to thrive and as a consequence attracts the owls to spend the winter here feeding on the plentiful voles and being able to roost undisturbed in the expansive fields of rank dead grass. Owl heaven!

Hawling and its immensely popular fields with their attendant owls has attracted some adverse comments due to the fact it is now so well known and brings so many visiting birders and photographers wishing to see the owls. The main objection seems to be the resultant disturbance that is inflicted on what is after all an attractive and relatively isolated rural location albeit only twelve miles from the spa town of Cheltenham. Hawling, although not named in the programme was recently featured on BBC 's Winter Watch which certainly will further increase the likelihood of more people visiting.The numbers of cars parked on the narrow verges can be exceptional on the two single track roads that border the set aside fields and in this wet winter the verges have  been badly chewed up by the cars and some cars have even become stuck in the mud and had to be towed out.

Unfortunately these are public roads so anyone has a right to use them and park sensibly on them to enjoy the owls.Photographers come from far and wide and I have met some from as far away as Liverpool and others from Yorkshire. Provided everyone behaves sensibly and refrains from trespassing into the fields  and stand at the side of the road to watch the owls from behind the dry stone wall which protects the fields then I can see no major reason for concern. The numbers of people present each day could in fact deter any potential trespassers who are tempted to allow their desire to see the owls closer get the better of them 

The owls appear unconcerned about the numbers of people and as can be seen from my images below can come quite close at times provided one stands quietly and remains still.

Today I was pleasantly surprised to find no more than a dozen cars parked beside the road on my arrival and left my car on a wide grass verge to walk up the road to view the fields, one on either side of me. At this higher elevation than Slimbridge, situated on a plateau, a noticeably chillier wind blew across the bare fields and made me shiver as I looked out over the rolling contours of this part of the northern Cotswolds, stretching for miles in all directions,

Despite the people present there still remains a lingering sense of remoteness here, enhanced by the presence of the owls and one can essily find an isolated spot where the spirit of the land assert itself and the presence of fellow humans be temporarily forgotten.

On leaving my car I could see that an owl was already hunting over the field to the left and made my way up the road to find a place where I could stand in isolation by the dry stone wall and wait for the owl to come closer. In fact there were three owls, silently floating over the dead grass, some times distant at other times much closer.

The owls possess long, relatively narrow wings that effortlessy carry them a metres or two above the grass.Their flight is slow but powerful, the wings beating jerkily on the upbeat but slower on the downbeat creating a distinctive action, interrupted by the occasional hover.Tilting from side to side gliding and forever moving across the fields they quarter relentlessly around and around in a parade of soft feathered. silent intent..

On two occasions I saw one stall and dive head first into the grass 

but for much of the time, as I watched them, the owls were continuously searching for their prey without apparent success 

On the one occasion an owl met with a result and rose with a vole in its talons, no doubt intending to carry it away to be consumed somewhere more discrete it had been noticed and was almost immediately accosted by one of the ever present Carrion Crows, forever on the look out for a chance meal. To make matters worse for the owl, the crow was rapidly followed by a kestrel, yet another opportunist all too keen to rob the owl of its prey.The trio rose higher and higher into the sky, the owl doggedly twisting and turning, unwilling to release its prize. The crow was not equipped to tackle the owl's talons but the kestrel had no such qualms and engaged the owl talon to talon attempting to seize the vole from the owl's clutches

The vole falls to earth pursued by the crow!

In the ensuing struggle the vole fell from the owl's talons and the crow saw it frst as it fell and followed it to the ground.The kestrel was a fraction too late and despite plummeting vertically to earth at an incredible speed, the crow had got to the vole first and the kestrel wisely conceded to the crow and its formidable bill now carrying the unfortunate vole.

I am sure this episode is re-enacted countless times here over the winter and sometimes the crow will win and other times the kestrel but more often the owls will hopefully get to eat their meal in peace

I have seen this hijacking of the owls a number of times and find myself wishing that the much larger owl would retaliate and teach the crows and kestrels a lesson but  they never do and always lose out in such encounters.

With a relatively large number of owls, at least eight, in this restricted area there are inevitable conflicts.What sets one owl off against another is a mystery as sometimes they seem content enough to maintain a respectable distance from each other when more than one is flying at the same time but occasionaly one owl will emit a sharp athsmatic wheeze of aggression and fly at speed towards another. Invariably the conflict ascends upwards into the sky and after a bit of chasing and even talon grappling at times, subsides and both owls resume their hunting

It was towards mid afternoon with the light beginning to fade even more on this day of continuous grey, that after one such interaction one of the combatants broke off and circling in gentle glides and casual wing beats slowly descended to earth and pitched into the grass of the field on the opposite side of the road.

It settled close. almost in front of where I stood, alone. It then rose and proceeded to fly  around the field a number of times, coming close each time it flew past me before once more settling in the grass next to a tussock that sheltered it from the wind.

It sunk its head into its shoulders, fluffed out its feathers and closed its eyes in repose.It was obvious it was going to remain as such for some time. Should I remain or take this as a cue to depart? I already had many images  to be satisfied with and there was little more to be achieved.

The cold in this exposed part of the Cotswolds was becoming increasingly irksome, my limbs stiff with standing and so I decided that it was time to seek the warmth and shelter of my car and drive home 

My day in Gloucestershire had reached a natural conclusion, my spirit elevated by these encounters with wild nature.