BIRD IN THE HAND
Artist Camilla Gardner was delighted to discover a pair of barn owls nesting in her studio roof. Now they feature regularly in her drawings, while she works to preserve this remarkable endangered species
Artist Camilla Gardner draws and protects barn owls nesting in her studio
They’re just like a powder puff dipped in talc,” says British Trust for Ornithology (BTO) volunteer Ruth Croger, as she unveils a six-week-old barn owl chick that has never seen daylight or a human face. After lifting it from its nest, she will weigh, measure and ring the owlet before replacing it in its home in the rafters on Camilla and Tim Gardner’s plot outside the Hampshire village of Bishop’s Waltham. The information Ruth records will be invaluable in determining the bird’s territory and diet, after it fledges at 50 days old.
In the 25 years since the Gardners bought their three-acre property in the South Downs National Park, they have seen several generations of nesting barn owls take up residence. Tim, a land agent, discovered their presence when he found owl pellets in the ruins of a piggery they were in the process of converting into a studio for Camilla, an artist specialising in portraits of animals and birds. Delighted to host these feathered friends, they installed the perfect home for them – a tea-chest-sized box 20 feet up in the ridge of the roof, with a door flap giving access to the outside.
“I knew very little about barn owls,” Camilla says, “so I started researching, and was thrilled to add this intriguing creature to my work. My fascination grew after talking to experts at the BTO and Hawk Conservancy Trust, and I made regular visits to Birdworld in Farnham and the Natural History Museum in London.”
Camilla sketches at times in a shepherd’s hut in the garden of the 1870s flint-and-brick farmhouse that she and Tim renovated. From here she can observe the birds, with Mojo (a schnoodle – schnauzer/poodle cross) at her side. “One of the first things I learnt was that they don’t hoot like tawny owls – instead they make unearthly hissing and screeching sounds.” Mojo also
accompanies her on evening walks in the fields skirting the chalk downlands, and the edge of the five-acre wood on their land, where she sees bats, badgers and foxes emerging to feed. All this is translated into her art back in the studio, where she draws the body and face first, then focuses on every detail of the feathers or fur, and finally adds the eyes, “which make the drawings come alive”.
Camilla studied for five years at art schools in the UK, then at the Florence Academy of Art, and while she loves capturing on paper all forms of wildlife, most of her commissions are for animal portraits. “It started because I wanted to work from home when our children were small, and I found that the results gave the owners a lot of pleasure.” That was 22 years ago; her sons Freddie, 22, and Harry, 20, are now both at university.
On her desk she has two stuffed owls in a glass case. They were found dead and offered to her when word got around about her new favourite subject. She gratefully popped them in the freezer, contacted a taxidermist, and now uses them to achieve anatomical accuracy in her pastel and charcoal drawings. “It’s a way of giving them a second life,” she says, adding that there is nothing to beat the sensation of watching ‘their’ owls at dawn or dusk, as they glide majestically over an expanse of long grass in the garden, listening for a rustling vole or a scurrying mouse.
Although the birds have bright, captivating eyes, their sight is poor; they use their ears to hunt, and if the weather is wet or windy, they can’t hear their prey. When conditions are inclement, the breeding season is later. “If they know that finding food is difficult, the adults have more sense than to start breeding in spring,” Camilla says. “They need to keep themselves alive.” This explains why, following some wet spells in late summer, today’s owlet arrived in the midst of autumn.
The six-inch-long chick is sadly the only survivor from a brood of four. The first is the largest and strongest and, as the only one left to be nurtured by the parents, this one’s chances are better. “Unfortunately, in a poor hunting year it’s common for the parents to save the first-born by sacrificing the other siblings,” Camilla says. This lucky owlet is enjoying its 15 minutes of fame, remaining
motionless and unperturbed as Ruth takes her measurements. In contrast, its parents flew the nest the second they detected a human disturbing their home. As the ladder was put alongside it, they bolted, leaving the chick behind. Once alone it was deftly placed inside a bag – Ruth makes these from an old cotton duvet cover – and carried down the ladder for its health check.
This begins with it being unceremoniously placed head first into a container on a set of scales, its legs hanging over the side. Then it has its wings measured and nascent feathers inspected. The sharp, hooked beak is already formed, and a breeze ripples through the fine, white flyaway down on its head. Using pliers, Ruth secures the ring, bearing a unique number and a website to visit if the bird is found. Sadly, 75 per cent die in the first year, sometimes by drowning in water troughs (their feathers are not waterproof ), becoming entangled in power lines or blinded by car headlights. There are now fewer than 4,000 pairs of barn owls in the UK, less than half the number of 50 years ago.
“It’s time to return him to his box,” says Ruth, not wishing to ruffle its feathers. She is one of 2,000 trained, licensed ringers in the UK and has been archiving data for 20 years, ever since she retired as a careers advisor. Though Camilla has seen Ruth perform the ringing procedure many times, she says there is always more to learn, as she strokes the chick before it goes back into its box. The parents will return at dusk with tasty morsels, unaware of their chick’s adventure.
That’s not the end of the experience, however. Since installing an infra-red camera some years ago, the Gardners – and guests in the holiday cottage on their land, which they’ve named The Owl House – can follow the family’s progress on a TV screen. Visitors often find the avian antics more entertaining than Strictly. This week, the male and female have been spotted preening each other – a sign that they are ready to breed again, even though their young one is just developing its flying feathers. Two broods in one season is normal, the youngsters hatching before their elders have fledged. From birth, the mother will not leave their side for at least two weeks, while the male acts as breadwinner (or vole-winner), making frequent excursions to find breakfast, lunch and dinner.
“It’s amazing to see the offspring leave and the parents return the following year to start a new family,” Camilla says. She’s hoping it’s a pattern that will continue for many years to come.