Birdbrain
There's something distinctly odd about a walk that I do regularly. I leave my house, go south across seven fields, through a village, over a pelican crossing and into the fields. (Actually I made that last bit up about the crossing, but the rest is absolutely true.)
So I walk across the high ground above the village of East Farndon and pick up the Jurassic Way footpath, over a few stiles and down the hill on the other side where the beginnings of the Welland valley come into view, and come to a thin stretch of field, probably no more than fifty yards wide where I have to cross two stiles, and there on the first stile is this beautiful creature who paced back and forth on the other side, showing absolutely no fear of me and getting disturbingly closer with my every attempt to cross.
Bear in mind that these Emu's have very long legs and necks, so even though I'm six foot tall, their beaky faces are just about the same height as mine, and when those reptilian like eyes stare into mine as they make dinosaur like throaty noises, and to make matters worse, it's partner in crime is guarding my exit, the stile on the other side!
Sometimes I'm met there by horses who are also curious but a bit friendlier than these Emus.
So anyway, in the end I decided that I was not going to be intimidated any longer by these two and made my way over the stile into the field, and immediately it rushed towards me until I made my own loud primitive throat noises which encouraged it and it's accomplice to back off and let me pass through.
Then later I had the same again on the way home.
Several months ago I'd had another strange but wonderful interaction as I walked back at dusk, not far from the Emu field.
I'd noticed something white fluttering above the hedge some distance away and stopped in my tracks as I realised that it was an Owl and was amazed to see it fly closer until it was only two or three yards away hovering in front of me, with us both looking into each others' eyes. My camera was slung over my shoulder but there was absolutely no question of even attempting a shot. There's always something so deeply moving about coming face to face with wild creatures, and such moments are so uniquely sacred.
I also had the pleasure of coming face to face with a young Fox on this last walk which stopped and checked me out at a distance before going on our ways.
Birdbrain
There's something distinctly odd about a walk that I do regularly. I leave my house, go south across seven fields, through a village, over a pelican crossing and into the fields. (Actually I made that last bit up about the crossing, but the rest is absolutely true.)
So I walk across the high ground above the village of East Farndon and pick up the Jurassic Way footpath, over a few stiles and down the hill on the other side where the beginnings of the Welland valley come into view, and come to a thin stretch of field, probably no more than fifty yards wide where I have to cross two stiles, and there on the first stile is this beautiful creature who paced back and forth on the other side, showing absolutely no fear of me and getting disturbingly closer with my every attempt to cross.
Bear in mind that these Emu's have very long legs and necks, so even though I'm six foot tall, their beaky faces are just about the same height as mine, and when those reptilian like eyes stare into mine as they make dinosaur like throaty noises, and to make matters worse, it's partner in crime is guarding my exit, the stile on the other side!
Sometimes I'm met there by horses who are also curious but a bit friendlier than these Emus.
So anyway, in the end I decided that I was not going to be intimidated any longer by these two and made my way over the stile into the field, and immediately it rushed towards me until I made my own loud primitive throat noises which encouraged it and it's accomplice to back off and let me pass through.
Then later I had the same again on the way home.
Several months ago I'd had another strange but wonderful interaction as I walked back at dusk, not far from the Emu field.
I'd noticed something white fluttering above the hedge some distance away and stopped in my tracks as I realised that it was an Owl and was amazed to see it fly closer until it was only two or three yards away hovering in front of me, with us both looking into each others' eyes. My camera was slung over my shoulder but there was absolutely no question of even attempting a shot. There's always something so deeply moving about coming face to face with wild creatures, and such moments are so uniquely sacred.
I also had the pleasure of coming face to face with a young Fox on this last walk which stopped and checked me out at a distance before going on our ways.