A Stronsay saunter

You know how it is... you get up at stupid o'clock, say 05.10, to catch a ferry to a small(er) island, once there, the job doesn't take too long and you're left with a seven hour wait for the return boat home. The financial recompense is barely adequate, but the wildlife-watching possibilities are certainly rewarding, as long as one's accountant isn't reading this.

On an otherwise empty beach, I pondered whether now was the time to plant a bare root tree, as in the surf was an Ash sapling. It certainly added an unexpected twist to the old saying.

Did I mention that the beach was deserted?

After walking along the length of the beach, a quick traverse through the dunes brought me to a small lochan next to a farm. The lochan contained upwards of fifty Shelduck and a pair of Pintail, but my attention was soon swayed from the water to the fringing vegetation where a Short-eared Owl was hunting.

Across on the eastern side of the island, a clifftop walk took in the view of the collapsed sea cave that is the The Vat.

This pair of Shags were looking resplendent in their purpley-green plumage and spikey hair styles

The surrounding cliffs were populated by loads of Fulmars, claiming nest sites or soaring to and fro. This particular bird was sat conveniently on the cliff edge and in the late afternoon sun.