New Chick on the Block

 The bantams have been at it again. For three weeks two hens sat on several eggs. And then the day before yesterday out came this little chick. They sat for another 24 hours and out came another chick. But I think they must have argued about whose that one was because by evening the poor little thing had been trampled all over. It didn't stand a chance.  Now the two mother hens are both fussing over the one little chick and take it in turns to shelter it under their wing; the white cockerel has clearly decided he's the father and fusses around them all the time.
That makes a total of 5 bantam chicks hatched this summer and still pecking around - so far. But I'll not take bets that they'll still be here come the winter.

Meanwhile in the stable barn another chirrupping family of swallows has recently hatched and is currently being fed by what appears to be three adult birds. Occasionally, one sits on the nest - perhaps passing on wisdom in lieue of flies. Now that the harvest is slowly getting underway there is no shortage of food for them so I don't imagine it'll be all that long before they are out of the nest and on the beams for their first flying lesson.
Whilst we were having dinner this evening we witnessed a lesson of a different kind. It would seem that the area bordered by our house, the old Coach House/new garage block and the tall Pine Trees, is a favoured training air for swallow parents to teach their fledglings how to swoop and dive whilst catching food. Every now and then, for 6 or 7 minutes at a time,  the air is full of masses of swallows who suddenly appear from nowhere and start whizzing up and down and to and fro, accompanied by loud, insistent chirrupping. Then, as suddenly as they arrived they are gone. Where to? Across the fields in search of real flies I imagine. One short lesson from their parents and then they are expected to fend for themselves. Is that where the phrase "On a wing and a prayer" comes from?

The real piece de resistance as far as RectoryReserve's birdworld is concerned though occurred this morning when I was off in the car on my rounds. Motoring up the drive I caught something in my peripheral vision that caused me to almost swerve up the bank and into the Ash tree. I drew to a halt and looked back and, sure enough, there it was on a fence post. I quietly got out of the car and took a couple of snaps. It didn't move. Since I'd driven past it once I decided to drive slowly back to it. Still it didn't move, except to turn its head very slowly in my direction. I let down the passenger side window, intending to take a photo from this close distance. I couldn't have been much more than 5 or 6 feet away. It remained unmoving, gazing down at me insouciantly as if I were a fly that had strayed into its line of sight. The little camera couldn't focus from inside the car so I leaned gently over towards the passenger side of the car. The Barn Owl gave me an imperious glance and then oh so slowly and silently spread its wings and sailed off across the field. I was mesmerised, camera completely forgotten.
I don't imagine I will ever again have the good fortune to get so close to a Barn Owl. It's not often life chucks a diamond in your face. Truly a moment to treasure.