Monday was a bank holiday (English for "public holiday"). The government calls it, somewhat prosaically, "Late spring bank holiday" these days. Though most of us old enough to remember life before colour TV still call it "Whitsun bank holiday", as it used to be. Even though Sunday was Trinity, not Whitsun (which was the previous Sunday).
We don't mark Memorial Day over here, of course, since its origins are with the dead of the USA/CSA civil war. We remember our war dead on Armistice Day in November. We've had our own civil wars - half-a-dozen or more - though the one most people mean when they say "The Civil War" is the Royalist versus Parliamentarian series which began in 1642 and wound up with the execution of the king - Charles I - in 1649. And was waged by the man whose name was never to be spoken in our house when I was a child. (Irish mother - she would say "
that man" in a tone that left no doubt about the level of her contempt.)
Anyway. Bank holiday. No work. No football on TV (season's over). No rugby Union (ditto). Wasn't particularly interested in the tennis matches available on Eurosport. Bored. So... what to do.
We decided to go and visit a local attraction. Crealy was crowded with kids (it's also half-term this week)so we decided to give it a miss. We wound up going to Cornwall instead. We didn't have a particular place in mind but as we drove along we saw a sign for the
Screech Owl Sanctuary. I'd never heard of it before. Anybody who's been reading my ramblings for a bit knows that I can be a bit of a softie when it comes to animals so of course we stopped.
I'm so glad we did. It was fantastic.
They have a fair few owls there - as you can see from the website. And they do what they call "Close Encounters". It's exactly what it says. A handler holds an owl (several owls in succession actually). And you get to see them - close up. And since there were no other visitors when we arrived we got their undivided attention for a while. We were allowed to stroke the owls that were brought to us (as these are the ones that are used to people). Their feathers were amazingly soft.
There was a young Eagle Owl,
Lightning - losing his/her (they don't know which yet) down and gaining his/her adult plumage. Every stroke sent bits of fluff flying off into the wind. S/He's still trying to work out what his/her wings are for. It won't be long before s/he flies, but right now all s/he does is face-plant. Quick flap of the wings, leap forward, and splat. Then s/he picks him/herself up, looks around, and starts preening as if to say, "I meant to do that". S/He was adorable.
By the time we'd stroked and photographed all the owls currently on duty there were six more visitors. So the staff decided it was time for the flying display. Three owls showed off their skills. And then the chap asked if anybody would like to have a go. He'd barely finished speaking before I was up off the bench and heading into the arena, holding out my arm for the gauntlet!!
I got to "fly" two different owls. They were so light. And so agile. And so beautiful. I stood there with the owl on my arm and grinned.
I'm still grinning.
It was magic.
Ze
