At the base of an oak was a cute little Tawny owl and I think I caught a glimpse of its parent flying away from the scene. For a few minutes I watched from behind a tree, and then another, but all the while the baby was transfixed, not a move of the head, just the tiniest slit of a motionless eye and its claw set into the moss on the bark. I left it where it was and hope the parent will be back to protect and feed.
Two summers ago I found a baby Tawny being attacked by crows which I shooed away. I approached that baby and off it flew, into the trees; with dusk approaching it would be safe. For a couple of weeks I followed the progress of that owl and its fellow nest mates as they moved from tree to tree calling out for food.