Natural highs and lows

I hope that the festive period has provided everyone with the opportunity to share happy times and good food with family or friends. We all need some respite from the cares of the world to recharge our batteries, whatever our persuasion. Up here, in the erstwhile Hyperborea, whilst we still have a little daylight at this time of year, snuggling down for the evening can begin as early as half past three in the afternoon. This is ages before gin o'clock which, thankfully, doesn't dance to the solar cycle. Wildlife, on the other hand, does have to worry about making it through the long cold nights. Recent snowfall has encouraged a few Fieldfares into the garden, to compete with the local Blackbirds for apples. So far, they have only appeared around dawn, making photography difficult. The daylight, or lack thereof, has caused a few headaches for our fortnightly shore survey, with the need to juggle tide times, weather and the ability to see where we're walking. The latest batch

The 2023 calendar has now been posted out to family, with a spread of images from our wildlife year. Most of the flora and fauna were photographed in the county, with the one exception being in the Cairngorms but of a species that is resident in Orkney. Megan has more photographs here than I, so I was allowed to donate the cover photo. You will note that we don't do dawn landscapes! Maybe that needs to be rectified before the next edition? Cover - Puffins, Birsay; January  -  Fulmars, North Ronaldsay; F ebruary -  Whitehall sunset, Stronsay;  March -  Starlings, Orphir;  April -  Mute Swan, Kirkwall; M ay -  Spring Squill, South Ronaldsay;  June - Large Red Damselflies, Glen Feshie;  July -  Six-spot Burnet moth, Flotta;  August - Grey Dagger caterpillar, Orphir; September -  Devil’s-bit scabious, South Walls;  October - Grey Seal pup, South Ronaldsay;  November -  Autumn leaves, Firth;  December -  Stenness sunset, Brodgar.

It has been a week of highs and lows, has it ever. On Monday, my younger daughter gave birth to a bonnie wee baby boy, instantly promoting me to the status of grandad. The Winter thrushes are still very much in evidence, the field over the road constantly thronging with Redwings and Fieldfares. Redwing Fieldfare It is one of those universal laws of nature, brought to us through the medium of astrophysics, that if a photograph of the mid-winter sunrise is required, it is guaranteed to be cloudy. The same day I had a bit of a change of scene, finding myself not climbing up a ladder or crawling through a loft as usual, but working aboard the local authority's newest tug. As it's Christmas, I guess I should've launched into a rousing chorus of Posh! a la Grandpa Potts from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Yesterday, the male Sparrowhawk was back. Because we both had places to be, we weren't able to identify the victim straight away. However, once home again, I had a look at the fea

And Winter Came... Yes, as I type I'm listening to Enya , it seems appropriate. In the deep mid-week Saturday, pre-dawn Yesterday, we were surprised to spot two Robins in the garden. Robins are a notoriously feisty species, at least to each other, as outside of the breeding season both males and females hold a territory and are extremely belligerent to interlopers of a ruddock-y disposition. I surmised that the wintry weather had driven another Robin to try its luck under our bird feeder, but the resident one was having none of it, chasing away the intruder as soon as it approached too close. This morning, we could only see one Robin, presumably the resident bird, so the matter seemed to have been resolved. That was until lunchtime when the situation escalated in an unexpected direction. But I'm jumping ahead slightly, if only to justify the blog title. Megan had gone out for a walk whilst I sorted out the contents of my van for the week ahead. On her departure, she instructed

One of the downsides to being self-employed and a sole trader (apart from all the usual ones) is that organising the staff Christmas function is a bit... well... pointless. Dinner for one isn't quite the thing, and the drunken conga line is just a... drunk.  Happily, now that the global pandemic is less of a threat, this year the obvious solution presented itself. Megan is also a self-employed sole trader, so we went for lunch together as our respective businesses.  Very wisely, the organisation of the event was not left to me, although I was allowed to choose the venue (which I suspect is code for " You ring and book it!"). The day's excitement began with a trip on public transport. Yes, really! It was the inaugural outing of my bus pass, which had been festering away, unused, in my wallet for a year. The fare wouldn't have been prohibitive, mind, but the saving was put to good use later in the day when ordering aperitifs. Once in the sprawling megatropolis of K

Recently, a day's work was cancelled at the last minute when the spare part we'd been waiting for finally turned up but was not what had been ordered. Gah! Still, the sun was shining, the sky was blue and there was a rarity loitering at a wetland pool in the West Mainland. Better still, checking my life list, the bird wasn't on it. There will be plenty of dreich days this Winter so I reasoned that making the most of the fine weather was probably allowable. The pool in question was quite close to the shore, so we left the car at a nearby car park and wandered along the coast. There were loads of thrushes about, a trend for a few weeks now, with Blackbirds, Redwings and Fieldfares to the fore. A small flock descended to the ground before our eyes and we were pleasantly surprised to discover that they were Song Thrushes. Song Thrush But on to the pool, for the main event! This diminutive wader is a Grey Phalarope, a species which breeds in the Arctic and then spends much of Wi