Black-tailed godwits, Leighton Moss

Sunday, 3 September 2023

Three o'clock in the morning

Today was one of those days when an erratic sleep pattern works in your favour. I'd managed to doze off some time after 02:30 but it was a light and fitful sleep and I was awoken suddenly by a cry. The first time I heard it I thought it was one of the neighbourhood cats. The second time had me frantically trying to remember what that water rail flight call sounded like. The third time I told myself I was a dozy pillock for not recognising a tawny owl when I hear one. The fourth and final time confirmed it for me.

The tawny owl's flight call doesn't have the echoing quality of the components of the too-wit too-woo duet, it's a lot more like a squeaky wheel. Which is no excuse for not recognising it immediately.

I wonder where it was going and where it had come from. 

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