Natural highs and lows

What. A. Weekend. I had hoped to complete my working day on Friday before the gale force winds arrived, but they showed up early. So, rather than run the risk of having the van doors ripped out of my hands and my equipment and stock distributed downwind in a rapid manner, I shut up shop (figuratively, I don't have a shop), apologised to customers and rebooked visits for this week. The afternoon was spent hunkering down as cosily as possible and trying to ignore the horizontal weather outside. Happily, there was a Zoom talk arranged for that evening, when one of the local amateur naturalists was giving a presentation about two Summers spent watching Common Carder bees in her garden. At the allotted time, we all logged on and were grandly entertained with photos and film footage of wee bees busily building nests, collecting pollen and making bee bread. It's not the same as having a live social event, but then again, with the storm, we would've had to cancel the whole thing an...

The past few weeks have seen several gales hammer through Orkney, bringing so much rain with them that it feels as though we might have imagined the drought of early Summer. At least we can now experience dawn at a reasonable time, this photo being taken a shade after 8am, whilst still clad in a dressing gown, balanced precariously on a folding chair, and holding a camera out of the top light of the dining room window. Image captured, dignity maintained, just. At this time of year, Little Auks appear in Orkney waters and elsewhere, blown in from the Atlantic and in need of a bit of shelter. We ventured to Scapa Bay to track down a couple of these diminutive birds which are only the size of a Starling. Through most of the bad weather, our bird feeder was quite busy with finches and the like but, during the last few days, the level of seed hasn't shifted one iota. At breakfast, on Saturday, we discovered why... This female Sparrowhawk must have moved into the area and quickly figured...

I have not been as diligent with the Nature Notes series as I had hoped, or perhaps I haven't felt the need for any filler posts because there's been plenty of wildlifey happenings to report? Either way, it's time for episode 3. Apparently, one of my superpowers is 'not thinking things through', which in the lexicon of such attributes isn't perhaps the one most likely to lead to a lucrative movie franchise. Although the comedic opportunities could be huge... So if we can agree that the main aim of the series is to highlight the meshing of natural songs or calls with human music, and also considering that my main wildlife focus is the group of insects comprising dragonflies and damselflies, then I have a bit of a dilemma. Actually, not a bit of a dilemma... the whole dilemma, in its entirety and without the slightest scuff. Dragonflies do not make any vocal utterings as far as I know, what with 80% of their brain space being taken up with processing the visual i...

My general preoccupation with the weather which, it should be said, is quite distinct from my raging climate anxiety, has also been much troubled of late, as the Met Office have struggled to accurately forecast the level of precipitation in our little corner of Orkney. Day after day of reasonable forecasts, suggesting sunny periods between varying shades of cloudiness, have descended into gloomy, wet and windy weather. On many levels, it hasn't been their finest hour.  Today, though, the meteorologists haven't put a soggy foot wrong, the forecast is on the money from the start. We're having rain, persistent and heavy all morning, turning into blustery showers in the afternoon, as the winds turn from the south to the west and ratchet themselves up to gale force come late evening. Hatches, as they say, are being battened. Thankfully, earlier in the week, I was able to take a short break to the Scottish mainland, which was suitably full of Autumn colours, wildlife and music. A...