The Owls Are Not What They Seem

Posted by Dave at 08:40 PM, October 22, 2004

(C) Greenpeace

As the photographer on board, it is more often that I am chasing down other members of the crew for their weblog portraits, rather than writing a blog myself. Today though, I had a rather special encounter and one that was unique to me, so here goes...

We sailed past St Kilda today on our way out of UK waters. Mostly I think because our captain is a big fan of the islands and, having now seen them, I quite agree. Although the morning was cold and grey and very wet, the landscape of these remote Scottish islands is so dramatic and spectacular that almost all the crew were on deck taking in the scenery. Dolphins came to the bow of the ship and escorted us towards the first of the great towering black rocks jutting out of the sea. With the low cloud forming like a mist around them, they were full of foreboding and reminiscent of all one's imaginings about ancient seafaring legends. This is indeed an ancient place: wild and mysterious and whilst I was busying myself with the business of taking lots of photographs, at the same time, I was feeling quite subdued and reflective.

That is when I saw the owl; perched on one of the inflatable boats that sits atop the helihanger. I wasn't sure at first what it was and so I stepped out into the rain to get a better look. As soon as I realised that this was no sea bird, nor even any bird of prey that I have ever encountered, I quickly took a few snaps. No one would believe me, I thought - that there was an owl on board - without photographic evidence. I looked around to see if any one else had seen it and there was nobody about. I desperately wanted to attract someone's attention if only to ask them to fetch Mariajo, the Spanish campaigner. She is nuts about birds generally, and also she works in an owl hospital in Spain. I knew that she would be stoked to see such an unexpected bird on board the ship. I also reckoned that this was a rare and unusual thing, this bird on our ship in the middle of the day, and that if I left, it would be gone by the time I could get back.

So I stayed and watched him. Me as still as I could be and him looking around and then looking at me with his large, bright eyes; both of us getting wetter and wetter in the rain. He didn't seem perturbed at all and occasionally shook the water out of his feathers in much the same way that a dog does. He was magnificent. I inched forwards, the photographer in me wanting a better shot. Predictably, I advanced beyond where he was comfortable with my presence, and with a graceful lift of his unfeasibly long wings, he took off.

So that was my day in those moments. Sometimes a thing can happen when our spirits are low, that lift us so that we forget ourselves and what was troubling us a few moments before.

Salut.

- Kate