Memories can hit you in the most unlikely places

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Out walking in the woods behind my home I was privileged to stumble on a tawny owlet on the forest floor. 

 

It had fallen from its nest. Mum was circling above, clearly distressed. It looked a little dazed. My guess was that it had overestimated its abilities and had attempted flight a little too soon. 

 

It was a gorgeous little thing, but the thrill of seeing it up close quickly turned to anxiety and sadness - how would it survive? 

 

I rang a friend far more knowledgeable than me and he guided me through an examination. Wings not broken, feisty, no obvious signs of injury. 

 

It had a half decent chance of surviving- mum would continue to feed it even though it was no longer in the nest. 

 

My anxiety turned to relief.

 

I sat opposite it looking at its little face. The dazed expression had gone - replaced with what can only be described as a look of utter humiliation and distain.

 

A childhood memory came racing back - it was no longer a humiliated little tawny owlet glaring back at me, it was my sister glaring at my mum, forced to pose in that year’s knitted monstrosity that our Scottish gran had made to show our appreciation. It was long before digital cameras and smartphones and my poor mum used to have to take dozens of pictures in the hope that there would be one where my sister wasn’t showing such obvious resentment.