Monday 12 March 2018

Snowdive

 
I had a WOW day.  On the 10th March 1991 I saw the Wainfleet Snowy Owl for the 4th and last time.  I haven't seen one since despite several weeks spent in the high arctic and several failed attempts to see one whilst working on the Hebrides. 27 years on, almost to the day and I got to enjoy this spectacular species in the wild again.  I knew it was a long walk down the beach at Snettisham and bundled the 3 year old in the pram, mid way Ben started having some issues with the vigour of the aerobic exercise, mentioned something about burn and lactic acid. The Owl had been relocated for a third day and has moved quite a way from Burnham Overy around to the Wash.  When we did get to the end of the pits and on to the boardwalk I was elated to see the Owl was really close and hunkered down on the top of a grassy hummock.
 
 


 
After 5 minutes or so the bird became very alert opened it's wings and flew, WOW.  I was convinced it would glide over the sea defence and out of sight but it did the opposite and took up sentinel on a fence post.  The following hour was spent watching this epic bird doing it's thing.  Activity peaked at spells of preening but every time I looked in the scope the serotonin rushed around my brain.  I just couldn't get my head around seeing the bird this well.  I was like the Cheshire Cat, Mark reckons he's never seen me so happy to see a bird and it certainly felt that way.
 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
The walk back was meandering and we shared the post Owl buzz with Ely's finest, as a Wildspace posse had formed and raided the coast.  The sky bruised and we returned to the Fen for tea and medals.
 


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