The little owl tightened its talons over the neck of a weasel it had caught in the pond reeds near the nest of a coot.
The owl was perched on the branch of a silver birch looking out across a field filled with cows. Also, a cool stream ran down the side so the cows could cool off.
Up the parth was the old Radar Museum and beyond that was Bawdsey beach and the RAF houses.
And when he was stalking a small hedge sparrow before long it had been scared off by a human family. There was a brown eyed boy holding a large stick and a guide to birds book and a man who kept looking up the owl saying “Oh, the one time I didn’t bring my silly camera!” And there was a lady with a carrying thing and wearing sunglasses and holding a very cute, chubby human version of an owlet who cept going “Awooo, Awooo, zzzzzt” instead of “squawk, squawk”.
He glimpst Keep-Out signs near the museum but he knew he could fly up where he wanted. As he flew beside the corn field he spotted a muntjack chewing corn, and some flying insects.
He swooped over the field and into the next wood, thinking about the human group he’d seen, especially the boy with the bird book looking back at him. The sun glared into his beady eyes, but it became more dappled and shady. There might be shrews or mice here, in the bracken and thick grass where he sometimes hunted.
Meanwhile, all the way home, the boy thought and chatted about what they’d seen. He wanted to look the owl up in his book when they got back and how his Nana. His dad was still going on and on about not having his camera just when he really needed it. A wren flitted across their path, which the boy spotted first, but nothing beat seeing the owl.
In the woods the owl waited. Perching on the branch of an oak tree, he saw movement in the grass. He also thought about his close encounter earlier on, thinking about the way they had stared up at him and whether he’d see them again.