
As the seasons turn and the nights draw in, the countryside of the British Isles seems alive with omens: an owl’s screech, or a bat above the hedgerows.
For centuries, such creatures were cast as messengers of fate, straddling the boundary between the natural and the supernatural. Yet today, the omens these animals bring are no longer warnings of ghosts or witchcraft, but of something far more tangible: their own survival.