The week before Christmas

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 feathery remains which were very much the same hues as Sunday, only a bit larger. This meant that the neighbouring field is now one Redwing lighter.

Also this week, the Scottish Government have come to a decision about the planning application to put a windfarm on the island of Faray. This small island is the second largest Grey Seal pupping site in the UK, and is rightly designated as a Special Area of Conservation. Does that protect it from development? Does it heck. It is appalling. Politicians seem to be blinded by Net Zero, and show little interest in protecting biodiversity.