Shortie.
08th January 2025
It was Norfolk 2012 during a particularly cold spell and good numbers of Short-eared Owls were in the county. Norfolk is primarily a Barn Owl county with very good numbers resident because of the eminently suitable habitat. Short-eared Owls, however, are more difficult because of fluctuating numbers depending on migratory birds and vole populations in other countries.
There was an area of little known about private land, primarily rough coastal pasture, which Owls and the odd Harrier occupied during late autumn and winter and where there was very limited access, and as a result only locals visited.
A particular path about two hundred yards long led out onto this rough pasture but stopped abruptly at a five bar gate saying ‘No Access’. Nevertheless this narrow path, enclosed by hawthorns, was perfect cover for a bird watcher.
One late afternoon I walked this path and made myself as comfortable as possible down below the five bar gate which also served as partial cover. A Barn Owl started to ‘quarter’ the pasture and I had reasonable views as it drifted past a couple of times.
Pheasants and partridges foraged for worms and insects and a distant Curlew’s call echoed across the pasture.
I could see a Short-eared Owl also hunting the pasture and it had now perched on a fence post about forty yards away. However, this was a very difficult situation photographically because almost all of the fence posts between the bird and me, sat behind the gate, would be in any shot I attempted then. Either the bird or I would have to be nearer, and unfortunately there was no further access for me. I toyed with the idea of standing up and shooting from above the gate thereby gaining a slightly better perspective but realistically I knew this would undoubtedly spook the owl and that would be the end of it.
Then for whatever reason the owl flew and perched a few posts nearer to me, my hopes and indeed my heart beats were raised!
To illustrate the geography of the situation, the fence posts followed a straight line towards me until the last four posts angled away from the gate I was hiding behind in a dog-leg fashion, presumably following a ditch the other side of the fence. At this dog-leg juncture there was a larger post to anchor the fence for its change of direction.
In my mind if the Owl perched on the larger post at the dog-leg then there would be no further posts in the foreground of any shot I took apart from the post the owl was perched on. In addition the background would be perfectly blurred with the green pasture behind.
The owl continued to scan the rough pasture for prey, dropping down periodically and most tantalisingly re-perching one by one onto a post ever nearer to me. I only had two more posts to go before the large anchor post and then this conundrum would be resolved. This really was an intriguing scenario because presumably the bird hadn’t detected me either.
There appeared to be a sense of inevitability unfolding, or perhaps it was just me hoping against hope. I waited daring not to make a sound or movement, my lens was pointed right at that large fence post on the dog-leg.
Then the owl dropped down again and flew back up but didn’t perch, it flew off, I was so disappointed, but then inconceivably it circled back around and perched right on the dog-leg post where I had originally hoped.
I can still see those piercing yellow eyes looking right in my direction.
I shot it with an overwhelming sense of achievement and it remained there for a minute before flying off into the now rapidly fading afternoon light – the closest I have ever been to a Short-eared Owl.
There was an area of little known about private land, primarily rough coastal pasture, which Owls and the odd Harrier occupied during late autumn and winter and where there was very limited access, and as a result only locals visited.
A particular path about two hundred yards long led out onto this rough pasture but stopped abruptly at a five bar gate saying ‘No Access’. Nevertheless this narrow path, enclosed by hawthorns, was perfect cover for a bird watcher.
One late afternoon I walked this path and made myself as comfortable as possible down below the five bar gate which also served as partial cover. A Barn Owl started to ‘quarter’ the pasture and I had reasonable views as it drifted past a couple of times.
Pheasants and partridges foraged for worms and insects and a distant Curlew’s call echoed across the pasture.
I could see a Short-eared Owl also hunting the pasture and it had now perched on a fence post about forty yards away. However, this was a very difficult situation photographically because almost all of the fence posts between the bird and me, sat behind the gate, would be in any shot I attempted then. Either the bird or I would have to be nearer, and unfortunately there was no further access for me. I toyed with the idea of standing up and shooting from above the gate thereby gaining a slightly better perspective but realistically I knew this would undoubtedly spook the owl and that would be the end of it.
Then for whatever reason the owl flew and perched a few posts nearer to me, my hopes and indeed my heart beats were raised!
To illustrate the geography of the situation, the fence posts followed a straight line towards me until the last four posts angled away from the gate I was hiding behind in a dog-leg fashion, presumably following a ditch the other side of the fence. At this dog-leg juncture there was a larger post to anchor the fence for its change of direction.
In my mind if the Owl perched on the larger post at the dog-leg then there would be no further posts in the foreground of any shot I took apart from the post the owl was perched on. In addition the background would be perfectly blurred with the green pasture behind.
The owl continued to scan the rough pasture for prey, dropping down periodically and most tantalisingly re-perching one by one onto a post ever nearer to me. I only had two more posts to go before the large anchor post and then this conundrum would be resolved. This really was an intriguing scenario because presumably the bird hadn’t detected me either.
There appeared to be a sense of inevitability unfolding, or perhaps it was just me hoping against hope. I waited daring not to make a sound or movement, my lens was pointed right at that large fence post on the dog-leg.
Then the owl dropped down again and flew back up but didn’t perch, it flew off, I was so disappointed, but then inconceivably it circled back around and perched right on the dog-leg post where I had originally hoped.
I can still see those piercing yellow eyes looking right in my direction.
I shot it with an overwhelming sense of achievement and it remained there for a minute before flying off into the now rapidly fading afternoon light – the closest I have ever been to a Short-eared Owl.