Recently, a beautiful barn owl has taken to landing on our back garden fence, calmly looking at us from a safe distance as we sit in the conservatory watching back. Owls are my favourite birds, and as I have never seen a barn owl in the wild before, I was very keen to take a photo of it whilst so close. However, every time I slowly went to grab my phone, the owl would notice my small movement, and fly off.
After a couple of visits, I decided to abandon all photography ideas, and just sit in stillness. This allowed me to observe this lovely bird more fully, its heart shaped face, large head, its white underside and brown wings, and as it leaves – its majestic, sweeping flight. Had I been able to take a photo, would I have had the chance to observe as much? Appreciate its movement as it turned on the fence, and take off in flight?
So often, we are keen to take photos, thinking that these become our recollection of an event or person -or something to show others. I’d rather have the anticipation of the barn owl’s return, to enjoy its company once again, to create treasured memories from slow, quiet study. To sit quietly in harmony.
