Field Note 06 | Following a Call

Bass Haven, Breede river

Some camp evenings have a rhythm to them.

The fire’s going, someone is making coffee or pouring a drink, jackets come out as the sun disappears behind the mountains, and everyone slowly settles in for the night.

That evening started no differently.

I was preparing the braai while Hannelie and Jaime disappeared into the caravan to find something warmer to wear.

Then I heard it. Just a single bird call.

I couldn’t tell you exactly why it caught my attention, only that it didn’t sound familiar. Instead of carrying on, I wandered up the hill behind camp to see if I could work out where it had come from.

I stopped and looked into one particular tree, and there it was.

An owl.

The light was already fading, and before I could even think about a photograph, it swept silently across camp.

I ran down the hill and called for Hannelie to bring the Canon and tripod while I tried to keep it in sight.

What followed wasn’t a chase. It was more like being invited to follow along.

The owl would settle, we’d quietly move a little closer, take a few photographs, film a little, and then it would move again.

Each time it landed, the scene somehow became a little better.

Eventually we were right up against the river, and the owl chose a completely open perch with the mountains behind it and the last of the evening light falling across its face.

If we’d been allowed to choose the perfect place ourselves, we couldn’t have done any better.

For almost an hour we stood there in the cold, quietly taking photographs and mostly just observing.

Eventually there wasn’t enough light left for either the camera or our eyes.

We packed everything away and walked back to camp in the dark.

We almost spent that evening around the fire. Instead, we spent it following an owl.

Funny how an ordinary evening around the fire can change because of one sound we decided not to ignore.