Owls and eagles and hawks… oh my

This weekend I have been on a field trip or, to be more specific, an owl experience, thanks to a brilliant birthday present from my brother.

I love owls, most particularly their ever-present expression of stoicism and thinly veiled contempt.

We didn't just experience owls, though. Oh no. We also experienced eagles and hawks. Eagles are pretty OK. But not as good as owls. Slightly behind eagles, OK-wise, are hawks.

Owls have exceptional hearing. This is a Fact I learned, in response to a Question I asked. At least, I think it's a fact. The lady falconer in charge of our experience told me their hearing is so good they can hear the heartbeat of a mouse. This is so extraordinary I couldn't decide whether to believe it or not. It seemed exactly the kind of fabricated story the staff would spin to gullible, just-off-the-London-train wildlife-tourists like me, all French Connection parka and silver Converse. They would then laugh among themselves in the pub after work, over some hearty real-ale-style beverage, as they imagined me repeating this ludicrous untruth in polite society, much to the derision of everyone present.

I also learnt that a kestrel can lift a double-decker bus

Of all the owls I met, I had two favourites.

The first one is called Louis. He is small but he fights dirty. Here is a picture of him sitting on my glove, and I think it is quite clear by his expression what an instant, deeply affectionate bond we formed.


The second is called Willy, because of Willy Wonka. You may notice that Willy has a Wonky beak.

This kind of thing represents a moment of flippant hilarity to whoever named the bird, but to Willy, it means a lifetime of mockery from the rest of the aviary and a dangerously negative body image. This kind of thing makes me sick.

Willy is of a nervous disposition, which sometimes means he doesn't pick up physical skills as quickly as the other owls. I felt great understanding for what it must be like to be in Willy's feathers.

And here is the biggest eagle we met, who is a lot heavier than any owl.

You can see here that I had to rest my arm on a rubbish bin when I was holding him because I was so worried about my non-muscles trembling visibly within about two seconds, right in front of the critical eye of my fellow owl-fanciers. It is not all glamour being an amateur eagle-hander, that is for sure.

Owls and aubergines

Back at the Lambeth Country Show, the competitive baking, the Mr Whippee vans, the alpacas, the sheep-shearing, the dubious crafts, the bowel-bothering, bass-heavy sound systems, the medieval jousting and the sheepdogs chasing herds of ducks up and down a miniature slide are all just so many support acts before the two main attractions:

Owls

and

Vegetable sculpture.

Malheureusement, it was not a good weekend for owls. Humans cannot perform thrilling aerial acrobatics when it's gusty, and nor can owls. In addition, they have a peculiarly sensitive artistic temperament, particularly when it comes to the big occasion. "Look at Tiger," said the owl wrangler, in a strong West Country accent, of one of his starlets. "He's a bag of nerves. He's never flown in the big arena before."

If you ask me, Tiger had had enough of his human sidekick giving out cheap, crowd-pleasing chat like this: "Right, kids. Who likes to go to McDonald’s? Who likes burgers? Chicken McNuggets? Yes? Well, owls would like to go to McDonald’s if it was RAW.’

Here is Tiger, his face bleak with contempt.

Meanwhile, in a tent on the other side of the park, red-hot vegetable modelling action. You might expect that the recent demise of Michael Jackson had inspired many artistic endeavours. You would not be wrong.

Yet neither will you be surprised to learn that the judges were not to be swayed by the gimmick of topicality. Here is the more classically inspired victor:

But wait. What is her hair made of? IT IS MADE OF WOOL. Instant disqualification, surely, and a failure of imagination on the part of the artist for not turning to some moulding asparagus, for example, to give similar colour and texture.

Here is second place. Excellent use of engraved watermelon to provide a tortoiseshell effect:

And here is third, apparently a tribute to Wilf Lunn, at least in terms of facial hair. I could not say if Wilf smokes a pipe.

But let us not forget the children, as they are our future. Teach them to make vegetable animals well, and let them lead the way. Also be there to mop their tears when one of their creations literally falls off its perch [below, extreme right].

I would also like to highlight the show's competitive floristry wars, with one category of exhibits themed around a West End musical.

Here is 'Cats'. You can see that the artist has used a china cat to suggest the musical Cats, and also a card that says Cats on it.

And here is 'Wicked'. Thrillingly, at the edge of the frame, you can catch a glimpse of one of the tent's security personnel, tensed like a jungle cat, ready to pounce at the first sign of a riot. The crowds at the Flower Show can be large and unruly, particularly in front of the vegetable modelling entries, where there's more push and shove than the opening of Primark Marble Arch. You may think that the cord around the security agent's neck is attached to her glasses. It is actually holding a lightweight Taser.

Finally, if you are moved to enter a category at next year's show, might I suggest marrow growing? Look at the sole entrants, and the over-ambitious table space that has been allotted to their no-show rivals.

They look as glum as the last two marrows to be picked for marrow football.