A fleeting glimpse of a wise old friend

A CHRISTMAS card I opened showed a white owl on a post in a snowy field.

Oh, for the owl and the snow! At seven o’clock the other evening, a farmer and nature-watcher I know phoned to say that as he and his young son finished milking, the boy saw a ghostly bird fly over the yard.

The yard adjoins the old farmhouse on their land, now in ruins. Was it an owl?, he asked. From his description, I had little doubt. Furthermore, he reminded me that I had written an article about a barn owl I saw in that vicinity some 13 years ago. I haven’t seen another since. It was the last barn owl I ever saw in Ireland.