It’s been a week of clear skies and luminous evenings – a stretch of calm, still weather that has been felt as a physical release, even an act of mercy, after a seemingly unending winter. Finally, now, the days have stretched and warped into their long summer shape, the seabirds have been returning to the cliffs, and the uplands are gilded by a low sun long after I head to my bed.
As the days have been lengthening, our short-eared owls have been increasingly active. This is the time of year when they must hustle to feed their young; here, their diet largely consists of Orkney voles, a plump, hamsterish subtype endemic to the archipelago. I often see these owls out hunting while driving – one or two per short journey – cruising the fencelines, or moon-faced and watchful from a standing stone.
