Sitting neat as you please, on my garden fence post was this enormous Barred owl.
I had been making some lunch and noticed that the robins were being particularly shrieky and annoying. So I stood on the patio, idly glancing around at the sky and trees, wondering what on earth the fuss was about... until our eyes met.
Then it was me who started making shrieky noises as I raced around looking for cameras and lenses. "An owl, an owl, an owl! A Wol! My first one of the year. In my yard. An owl. A Wol!
And WHY is this camera on a tripod NOW? And what do you mean it won't fit through the door with all three legs splayed out? Zounds!
The owl, cool as a cucumber, waited for me to get my nit-witted self together and take a couple of snaps. No doubt it heard me crashing about in the house, talking excitedly to myself.
After about fifteen minutes it flew into the forest, her patience with the dive-bombing robins coming to an end.
When those eyes fix on you, you feel as small as a mouse and I recalled that often owls can bring shadowy messages. I left her to her woodland roaming.