The Owl Box has landed.

I know it is hard to believe, however, I turned sixty a couple of weeks ago.

So, what do you get the man who has everything?

Well, a group of my pals clubbed together and got me an Owl Box. I had been dropping heavy hints via Kay, and I was thrilled when a bulky delivery arrived just before the strict COVID-19 mobility restrictions kicked in.

I had contacted a local chap who has one of these ‘cherry-picker’ devices which would have been ideal to put the box in place, however since the government’s correct tightening on only essential travel then the ‘cherry-picker’ idea was shelved.

Not put off, I weighed up the challenge. I had selected a large ash tree near the top of our paddock which I have now ceased cutting for the last two years, and judging by our dog’s sniffing and snuffling over the thick grass every time we go up there, I am guessing the number of field voles has greatly increased. Good for owls too.

It was a lovely still afternoon with absolutely no wind, so I was pretty sure, if very careful, I would be able to prepare the tree, by cutting off some protruding branches and hang the box myself by gingerly sliding it up the length of the long ladders we have.

It was a tad wobbly at first, however, the ladders soon settled, as did my initial rubbery legs, as I got on with the job in hand.

We often hear tawny owls calling from this vicinity of the garden, and I guess we will have the odd barn owl passing by too.

Once the job was finished by sheer coincidence we found two fresh owl pellets in the long grass.

Coincidence? or a good omen?

I’ll keep you posted.