WHEN they think of heath birds, most people imagine skylarks soaring above the heather or a kestrel hovering with amazing skill, ready to pounce on a hapless mouse.

However, during the past week I had two encounters with birds which are not exactly rare, but when they presented themselves on the heath it was certainly quite a shock.

It all happened between 5.30pm and 6.30pm on the Rifle Range nature reserve.

At this time of year the sun is setting at that time, and on this day the sun dipped beneath the horizon, leaving an orangy-brown reflection on the thin wisps of cloud.

Dusk is always an eerie time on the Rifle Range, as the nature reserve is not very far from West Midland Safari Park and the calls of some of the more exotic animals, such as wolves and lions, can be heard drifting across the reserve.

I had just emerged from an area of scrub trees out onto the heath when I heard a noise behind me and over the top of a sand ridge two large white creatures appeared, racing towards me at a terrifying speed.

I nearly jumped out of my skin.

Fortunately my number was not up, and these creatures turned out to be a pair of swans, which banked hard to avoid me then sped off, still only a metre above the heather, making their whooping call with each beat of their wings.

What the birds were doing there at that time of day I will never know, but they looked fantastic, their snow white bodies contrasting with the dull heath in the half light.

As I carried on across the heath the last glimmers of light faded and a bright quarter moon dominated the night sky, the stars twinkling boldly away from the influence of the street lights which dull their clarity in the town.

The temperature had also dropped quite severely. The reserve lies in a depression which seems to trap and hold cold air, and I had just felt a chill run down my spine when just to my left I caught a movement in the corner of my eye.

I turned slowly to see a large silhouette against the starry sky, about a metre away from me, perched in the branch of a rather twisted silver birch tree.

I froze and stared, and the creature stared back.

It was an owl, unmistakable in its mannerisms as it bobbed its head from side to side as it watched me.

We stood and stared at each other for some time and just as I was starting to wonder how this encounter was going to end, the owl turned and spread its wings, took off from the branch, and was soon lost in the darkness of the night.