Darlington's writing about owls. What starts as a desire to see all the species native to England expands, through offers and stories sent to her by friends, to trying to see all the species native to Europe. She doesn't manage that, not being able to swing the trips to Lapland to see some of the tundra species, but she does travel to Serbia to see the Long-eared Owl, and to a special preserve in France to see the Pygmy Owl.
The book isn't simply a travelogue, though Darlington does go into some detail about the experiences of her trips to see these various owls, as well as the sense of community she feels with the people she meets on these trips.
But the book is still largely about the owls themselves. Darlington talks about the ecology of each species. Their calls, their mating and hunting habits, their predation risks, the dangers that come from being around humans. Fast cars and low-flying owls are a bad combination, as are rodenticides and animals that eat rodents.
But it's also about how humans perceive them, and have over the ages. The way owls appear in ancient cave paintings, the stories and myths and human characteristics we assign to them. The feelings seeing or hearing one evokes in us. Darlington writes often of the wonder or excitement she feels at seeing these owls, or even the anticipation of seeing one. She also veers too far into "humans today don't respect nature" a few times, complaining about our disconnection compared to our ancestors.
Right, our ancestors who knew fuck-all about owls except they flew at night and so must be evil or a bad omen. As opposed to now, when we study them and learn about their habitat requirements and take steps to help them survive.
Darlington also tries to weave in mysterious health issues that afflicted her son during the time she was writing this. I think because he's also fascinated by owls, and that shared interest was some piece of normality as they grappled with whatever was attacking him. But with each chapter largely its own essay, only loosely connected to one another, that thread doesn't hold up. It's unmentioned entirely in some chapters, and like her quest to see all the different types of owls, isn't neatly tied up at the end. Which wouldn't be a problem, except it becomes something that doesn't quite mesh.
'His wings splayed, soundless from the velvety fringes on his primary feathers. The silent arrival must have freaked out our ancestors. The wings of all the other birds make a noise when they fly. Why not with this one? And as the Tawny Owl silently hunts, all the other birds go mad with alarm. What could be more eerie?'
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