Eye to Eye

First published in Tall Trees Short Stories Vol.20 (c) Gabriel Hemery

Human

*

Homo sapiens var. twitcheri

I hadn’t slept much, but that’s me all over. Still a small kid really, especially when it comes to a new ‘toy’, so I’d spent half the night too excited to sleep. Top of the range, that’s what I’d saved towards for 18 months, even passing up the annual trip to the Fens with the club. She was a Leioptico ATX85 spotting scope; the model with the 85mm objective lens and 25-60 zoom. No one else in the club had one like it, and for a while at least, there would be some satisfying envy alright.

I set up my tatty, old hide on the edge of the heath in the freezing cold. It must have been before 4am, as even Turdus merula—sorry, that’s the blackbird—hadn’t yet kicked off the dawn chorus. I chose a spot in the heather, about 15m away from a group of silver birch. Once perched on my canvas stool, I set her up on the tripod, and got my notebook ready on my knee, leaning forward to peer through her stunning optics for the first time. At that moment, I felt happier than I could remember.

‘Wow,’ was my first reaction. I could make out the pale stems of the birch trees, and even the lenticels on their dark branches, thanks of course to the ultra-low-light optics. I’d literally just had that thought, panning slowly a couple of metres to the right, when I saw him. You couldn’t make this up, you really couldn’t. His camouflage was impressive, but I could see him, sitting there motionless, his back to me. Bubo bubo; no doubt about it, as there’s nothing as large or impressive. Fancy, a Eurasian eagle owl in these parts. The sighting would cause a twitchery sensation.

He sat motionless, so I used the opportunity to make some fine adjustments to the scope. I must have observed him for longer than I realised, because there was a little light in the sky when he moved for the first time. Two Lullula arborea behind me had just started a vocal warm-up with a series of their familiar descending phrases; the wood lark’s one of my favourite birds. The owl rotated his head to face my way, blinking his deep amber eyes. I zoomed in to maximum (x60). The image was breathtaking, bringing him so close that his facial disc now filled my viewfinder. He seemed to be peeping at me, winking with one eye. Then, with a jerk of his head he turned to look fully at me; and I mean, straight at me, with an incredible focussed intensity. He knew me to be there, watching him, and now he glared into my eye. A chilling shiver went through me.

The billowing of the fine filoplumes around his eyes dizzied me, washing memories to and fro; of childhood sand and little waves, running and splashing, circling gulls sharing my ham sandwiches with their curled dry edges. Then, I was on a craggy island, hot chocolate poured from a flask, an open bird book in my hand, transfixed by the view through my first pair of binoculars. I watched as a huge murmuration of starlings swirled overhead, and a peregrine dived beyond the dizzying cliff edge. Now it was dusk and I watched in awe as manx shearwaters emerged beneath my feet, from the earth itself. I began to be drawn towards the setting sun, slowly flying out towards the horizon, into the amber orbs of Bubo bubo.

Still he did not blink, and still I fell, tumbling like Icarus.

Eurasian eagle owl

*

Bubo bubo

Black pupils gripped the pink dawn, and my little hide, in 
Two molten orbs swirling orange and golden fire, under 
Unblinking tweed bristle feathers frowning, over 
Filoplumes stirred by the breeze, around 
Razor bill tearing an impossible whisper in the void.

We flew together along the edge of the heath. I enjoyed stretching my chest muscles after sitting still for so long. An exhilarating rush of cold ruffled my feathers. My wing tips were impossibly distant. So much power, controlled by the tiniest of movements. We kept to the shadows of the heathland edge, banking round an isolated group of Scots pines deep in an ocean of heather, before racing down a forest ride, and into a clearing.

She hadn’t seen us with her little black eyes; chestnut fur, cream chest, long tail. A pulse of adrenaline surged through my talons. A fast approach; a twist of the tail, legs outstretched, parachute wings. Pine branch giving, swaying. A squealing, rigid muscle, desperate thrashing,