The Little Owl
I was back out this weekend, returning to the old ruined house in search of Little Owls. As the light began to fade across the landscape, this little character appeared in the weathered opening of the wall, perched among the crumbling stone as though the building had always belonged to it.
There was something almost timeless about the scene. The dark recess behind it, the worn stonework and the soft evening light catching the landscape in the background — a small, watchful presence in a place slowly being reclaimed by the elements. A landscape shaped by time, mining and neglect, yet still offering shelter and life among its remains.
For this image, I was concealed inside a small ruined outbuilding, waiting quietly as the golden grasses moved in the breeze across the front of the lens. As they drifted through the fading light, they caught the last warmth of the evening, creating a soft, natural glow around the image. For a moment, the harshness of the old building seemed to soften, and the only sound was me breathing slowly in my own world that was suddenly shared by this little character.
The area is home to Little Owls, Barn Owls and Short-eared Owls, and every visit carries the possibility of something unexpected. But it’s these quieter encounters that often stay with me — the long waits, the fading light, and the feeling of being allowed into a small, hidden part of their world.
A fleeting moment in a forgotten place, made all the more special by the silence that surrounded it.
Little Owls
There’s something rather special about seeing a species for the first time in the wild, particularly when you’ve spent years seeing them only through photographs.
Last night, Ricky and I headed out in search of Little Owls. We had a rough idea of where they could be found, so we settled into position, keeping ourselves hidden from view, and waited.
It wasn’t long before the silence was broken by the call of a Little Owl. Suddenly, the wait felt worthwhile.
A small shape appeared in the distance, perched amongst the landscape. It was a long way off, but for me, that really didn’t matter. Having never seen one in the wild before, simply watching it go about its evening was a genuine buzz.
These aren't the close-up portraits I had originally hoped for, and the resulting images have needed some fairly heavy cropping. But for a first encounter, they have given me something far more valuable — an opportunity to spend time with the birds, understand their surroundings and start to work out how best to approach photographing them.
I actually quite like the fact that these images show the Little Owl within its environment. Rather than isolating the bird completely, they give a sense of the landscape it inhabits and just how small these characterful little owls can appear within it.
And what characters they are. Those permanently grumpy expressions, combined with a rather impressive ball-of-fluff appearance, make them incredibly endearing subjects.
It was only a first attempt, but it has certainly left me wanting more.
I'll be back.