Laura Sangha (guest blogpost)
Baby Tawny owl underneath one of the Giant Redwoods
Let’s be honest. When Jane and Jon asked if we might like to do some house sitting for them this summer we absolutely leapt at the chance. Since moving to Devon twelve years ago we’ve had endless fun exploring its huge variety of habitats, from its rolling hills and history-rich towns, its two coastlines with their craggy shores and red sandstone cliffs, its piney plantations, its muddy estuaries, harbours and havens, and its stony and sandy beaches. Perhaps most of all, like so many before us, we have felt the inexorable pull of Dartmoor and have spent many happy (and some rather soggy) hours pottering under its huge skies, stomping up towering tors, taking photos of beech trees growing out of stone walls and dipping in its (mostly icy) rivers. So what better than a couple of nights on the edge of the moor, immersing ourselves in the sights and sounds and smells of this stunning landscape, from the comfort of beautiful St Olaves House?
And St Olaves was kind to us indeed. We spent hours watching birds around and on the feeders (house sparrows, great and blue tits, siskin, chaffinch, jackdaws, blackbirds, magpies, pigeons, nuthatch and even a greater spotted woodpecker muscled its way in). We wandered endlessly and marvelled at our luck to be there for two days of beautiful sunshine, showing everything at its very best. The gardens and grounds are a riot of dayglo spring greens, flowers are bursting out everywhere, the birds are in a frenzy while the somnolent buzz of insects accompanies you wherever you go. We made friends with the chickens by giving them sunflower seeds and peeked at the quails, discovering that they are expert egg hiders. We took a wander down the river and braved the stepping stones (not so brave, the river was very low), and I woke in the night to spy bright bright stars glinting in the skylight over my head.
Tawny owl in the trees at St Olaves
As if that wasn’t enough, St Olaves had one final treat in store for us too. For as we wandered up from the orchard garden early in the afternoon, I spotted an out of place indistinct grey shape on the branches at the base of a giant redwood (giant redwood!) a little away from us. Taking out my camera I was able to confirm with the zoom that it was what I suspected – a tawny owlet! It was initially facing away, but it caught wind of us and turned to pin us with two shiny black orbs – quite an unnerving sight amidst all the fluffy grey mess of its young and underdeveloped feathers.
We kept our distance and left it alone, but it played on our minds as it was quite exposed to predators, close to the ground and not showing signs that it was able to fly well, if at all. Given the wonderful weather we decided to sleep out at the shepherd’s hut that evening, which was not far from where the owlet was perched, so we knew that it hadn’t moved at all in the afternoon. However, at dusk we realised it had disappeared, which we took to be an encouraging sign as we hadn’t heard any obvious sounds of distress. Soon after that we spotted the tell-tale shapes of large birds swooping in the trees around us, suggesting the owls were on the move, and when I popped to use the compost loo I could actually hear a bird in an oak tree nearby, calling, presumably for a parent. After standing still for a while I was able to make out the distinct silhouette of our little fluffy friend in the tree, and just as I did, I saw the parent fly in and feed the young one. Leaving them to it, we heard the owlet calling most of the night, and in the morning I took particular care to scan the trees nearby and was yet again rewarded with the sight of one of these magnificent and mysterious birds, this time an older one taking a very well earned rest.
