We’re currently in Orchha, and our hotel is part of a mogul palace. A few nights ago, just on dusk, Sarah and I heard the sharp screeching of these owls high up under a massive stone gateway. It seemed their regular roost, and I made a mental note to come down around 6pm and see if I could photograph them.

Before I got the opportunity – actually the next morning – walking across the courtyard, we were beckoned over to see something. A group of young men had one of the juvenile owls tethered by a cord; they must have caught it feeding.

India often presents injustices which foreigners find difficult to respond to, and we’ve come to appreciate that it is usually better to stay sanguine, rather than get angry and self-righteous in someone else’s country. But there was something about this lovely bird, ruffled, tethered, and blinking in the sharp sunlight, and the youth looking for a few tourist rupees to view his prize.

“Why do you do this?” I said sharply. Everyone looked shocked, this was not the response they’d been expecting. I could see they didn’t know much English, and I was communicating more by body language. I indicated they should untie the bird and let it fly.

Fortunately, the groundsman, who picked up some extra income guiding tourists, was keen to keep me happy, and gestured to let the bird go. The cord was untied, but the bird just sat. Maybe it was injured, so I took off my jacket to put over it while I checked for anything obvious. But the owl was fine, and dodging my jacket, took wing and flew off toward its roost.

In retrospect, I’m glad I took action. It was spontaneous and genuine. Explaining the value of wild animals would have been pointless, but demonstrating that there were no rupees in displaying a captive creature I hope sent a more pertinent message.

That evening, I went down to the gateway at 6pm. Three owls were perched, two screeching, which I presume were juveniles with an adult.

Happy hunting!

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