9.Humour

Excitement, pathos and heartbreak are all features of nature watching, but there have been moments of unbelievable humour, too – often to do with my own ‘bad bird watching’ credentials rather than any humour inherent in the natural world.
I had at last bought myself a new camera and a telephoto lens, determined to move my owl watching on to a new level, and turn all those missed opportunities into prize-winning pictures. I had been watching our resident barn owls all summer, but all I had to show for it were a couple of distant shots, taken with an old digital camera, of one of the parents perched on the roof. Now I had the new equipment, all I had to do was get close enough and I would be a contender for ‘Wildlife Photographer of the Year’.
How could I get close enough, though? When we were in the garden the owls used the front of the garage to gain access to their nest. I had seen Simon King and his portable hides, and decided to use my granddad’s old army blanket for the purpose. I settled down on the grass in the owls’ flight path, half in and half out of a shrub, covered myself in the blanket and rested my elbows on my knees, the lens protruding unobtrusively from the blanket. It was going to be a long evening, but I had the patience – it would be worth it.
After what seemed an age I could not understand why there had been no sign of the owls – my camouflage couldn’t be that bad. I shifted slightly to relieve my numb buttocks, and glanced towards the house to see if a cup of tea was on its way. Then I saw the cause of my failure. Sitting alongside me, staring along the line of sight of my lens, was Holly, our longhaired black and white cat. The vet had once, rather tactfully, described Holly as ‘built for comfort, not speed' and there she was, making no attempt to camouflage her far from insubstantial presence! She was as interested in the owls as I was, but for a very different reason – and I’m sure the owls were well aware of it.
One of the things I love about cats is that they are always a great source of humour. Holly’s build means that she has never caught a bird, and her only hunting success has been in exploiting the habit of field voles to use the same ‘runs’ at all times. Once she has found one she just lies in wait and the voles come to her. Not that she kills many – unlike our previous cat, Sooty, she is easily distracted by the offer of food, and her prey is usually able to make its escape.
Sooty, on the other hand, was a fearsome predator, and efforts to persuade her to release her unfortunate prey could go on for some time. She was a rather fastidious eater too, and, occasionally, her refusal to eat anything below the waist resulted in the bottom half of a mouse being left at the door – rather like a pair of mouse trousers.
One mouse, though, was determined not to end its life in this way. As soon as I spotted that she had caught something I shouted. It distracted her momentarily, but when she turned her attention back to the mouse, its refusal to play the role of victim resulted in it rearing up on its hind legs and adopting the stance of a prizefighter, waving its tiny paws and baring its teeth. That was my opening, and I scooped up the startled cat and shut her in the house. I approached the quivering little rodent carefully and reached out to help it to reach cover, but it could not distinguish between attacker and saviour, and reared up once again, ready to take on all comers. I must say, its courage was impressive.