"Has he disappeared from the face of the planet", I hear you ask. I'm guilty of yet again neglecting this blog, though this year has been an unusual one.
With CV19 preventing travel to Mull during June and most of July, the tours I had planned on the island, both bespoke ones and those co-run with Andy, have had to be postponed for 12 months. Needless to say, this has left a whacking great hole in my earnings for the year.
So as soon as the lockdown eased, I drove over to the farm where the little owls live, and have focused almost entirely on them since.
As I am unable to see into the nest, I can't ever tell if the eggs all hatch, or if the nestlings make a meal of one another, or if they are lost when branching. All I get to see is an inquisitive and very fluffy character staring at me from the foliage of the oak tree one day, and I can tell you, it's always something special to witness.
Unlike the first time I observed the family, I was more familiar with the sight of the owls this year and less wowed by the novelty of it all, and noticed a lot more this time round, and I have to hold my hands up. I got it wrong. It's not the male that I see, that does the lion's share of the work, but the female.
The male tends to sit further down the line of trees, and while I have seen him bringing in food, he's generally on lookout, sounding an alarm call should a buzzard, or more recently red kite, stray too close.
On 15th July, on a day off between workshops, I called into the farm like usual, and spotted something rather fluffy in the oak tree. An owlet! Naming it "Acorn" which seemed appropriate, I scanned the trees for siblings, and tried to listen for other hissing calls.
No. The owlet that I had assumed could only walk and climb, could fly already, and had flown from the furthest tree, out of sight, and back into the barn. If it could fly from the trees, might it fly down to the roof soon, and entertain the paying public?
Barely a week later, on a Sunday afternoon, I called in briefly to have a look, and down fluttered Acorn, to the roof, to beg for food from its mother. Fantastic.
Click Here) and either fill in the contact form, or drop me an email. Spaces are going fast, and the owlet, Acorn, is getting less fluffy with each passing week.