It’s a late afternoon in January and I’m out in the freezing fields to witness a spectacular show.
The miserable mist and drizzle plaguing us in the early winter has at last vanished and now a waxing moon blazes down from a clear sky as dusk approaches.
The stage is set. Lights, camera, action! As darkness falls, Jupiter is soon increasingly dazzling from about 380 million miles distant. Venus, around a mere 67 million miles above us, is its partnering spotlight.
Our celestial duo are the two key players in an amazing four-planet parade including a ruddy looking Mars and Saturn. They have been in alignment and visible to the naked eye throughout the month.
With my attention concentrated on what is above me I nearly miss the arrival of an earthier but none the less glorious highlight of the evening. Out of the corner of my eye I clock a silvery flash of a bird’s underwings dropping down into the rough grassland.
A few seconds later up pops a white, heart-shaped face. Its dark eyes stare straight at me. Barn Owl! This bird has got to be among my top ten British favourites and every chance encounter is a delight.
He, or she – it’s not easy to separate the sexes in this species, especially at night – would have been aware of me a long time before I knew it was out hunting.
Then in a golden moment it arises without a sound and resumes its search, buoyantly quartering the field, occasionally dropping down vertically into the undergrowth with wings raised.
Our area is a county stronghold for this magnificent beast whose scary sounding screeching and hissing calls have sparked many a fright in the night.
Its numbers appear to have somewhat recovered from a worrying decline last century when only a handful of breeding successes were reported in Surrey.
Worldwide it is distributed on every continent except Antarctica and in some countries I’ve seen very tame versions roosting in trees, with Long-eared Owls, at picnic sites.
In Britain it is near the north of its range and around Cranleigh and many rural areas the species seems threatened from many angles.
A number of road casualties have been recorded while other fatalities, dating back to the 1980s, include one drowned in a cattle trough after coming to bathe and another starved after being accidentally locked in a barn.
Despicable criminal activity has put the species under even more pressure. One traditional site on the verge of our village was raided by morons and eggs, or possibly newly hatched young, stolen. The nest box was left on the ground. A stunned but fortunately uninjured brooding parent was found inside.
Barn conversions have also taken their toll but it is good to see increasing numbers of our farmers and homeowners giving the Barn Owl a helping hand by installing nest boxes.
The bird can breed in every month of the year so if it raises young then the landlords are benefiting big time from limiting the numbers of rats, mice, shrews and voles.
Barn Owls are fussy though. Often they like to use two homes – one for roosting and another for breeding. That can understandably come as a big disappointment to someone who was looking forward to seeing their wintering incumbent breed in the spring.
The chances are, though, that their bird is raising its young nearby. They rarely venture very far from where they are born, although there are exceptions such as one ringed in Dunsfold and recovered over 200 miles away.
That was exceptional for another reason. It was re-found four years later. Sadly, one study has shown that 65% of birds die in their first year, 17% in the second, and 12% in their third. Only six in 100 survive longer than three years.
As a star bird the ghostly white Barn Owl shines brightly but, like an impressive passing meteor, is soon gone in a white flash.
X – @Crane_Spotter
