Of The Third Kind

Lying in bed again, listening to the owls.

‘Too-wit.. Too-wit’..

But this time the sound is very close indeed. I approached the window very quietly and with a torch. Then shone the torch at the ground and brought it up slowly towards the source of the call. There, in the gentle light from the very edge of the beam, I see it. Just six feet away from me, perched on the branch of a tree.

A Tawny Owl. Head bobbing up and down. She is nervous, but curious. She wants to know more about me too. The owl stays for about a minute, then glides off silently down the hillside.

Magic.