Fairground attraction

After all the travails of December and early January, you may have some inkling, dear reader, just how wonderful it was to write the next sentence. A recent work trip to the island of Stronsay brought a little bit of time for wildlife-watching.

Mind you, it was a struggle getting out of bed in the dark at 6am. Leaving the house just before 7am, we tiptoed along the icy path to the car and drove sedately to the ferry pier in Kirkwall. Mid-voyage, it became light enough to see out of the window, so we headed out onto deck, to be greeted by a sunrise and a wintry squall. Highs and lows, right there!

There weren't many seabirds about, it rather felt as though the majority had taken the sensible decision to stay in bed a bit longer.

Whilst I was working, Megan went bird-watching, then, after the job was done, we met up again to see what we could spot together. The Sand of Rothiesholm was almost deserted of human life, we could see another couple at the opposite end, presumably the folk whose bicycles we had parked beside, but other than that we had a mile of beach to ourselves. The tide was quite far out, so we made our way to the low cliffs at the eastern end of the beach. Here, the strand line of seaweed was pushed up to the base of the cliff, with small rock pools then draining slowly back to the sand and then the sea.

A few pools were covered in springtails, tiny dark grey/blue Collembola. I didn't know what species they were, and blithely assumed that they had been washed from the beached kelp as the tide went out. Filming their progress across the surface of a rock pool, I wondered whether these miniscule invertebrates had any idea of the slides, merry-go-rounds and roller coasters they were about to encounter. In the below footage, feel free to add your own sound effects of delighted whoops, nervous whoas and terrified screams.

There were a few waders on the beach, Ringed Plover, Sanderling and Curlew, but we were simply happy to be out in the fresh air, taking in the skyscapes and being temporarily unencumbered by the weight of the world's politics. The haunting calls of Great Northern Divers added to the wildness of the moment.

Near the tideline, Megan found a sandhopper, which our ID app reckoned was a rare invasive, having only two records for the whole of Scotland, and those in the Outer Hebrides. We were a little sceptical to say the least.

Once we reached the far end of the beach, we chose the option of retracing our steps to return to the car rather than using a tarmac road. On the way back we stuck to the top of the beach, where there were more footprints and paw prints in the sand, presumably from dog walkers and their pets when the tide wasn't so far out. However, one set of prints didn't conform to the parallel trails between the strandlines, it went from dunes to sea, and seemed likely to have been made by the paws of an Otter.

Sailing back to Kirkwall, we were treated to more wonderful skies, including a rainbow which we watched for over an hour as it anchored a cloud to the planet's surface. Occasionally it would be bright enough to show its double, and at one point it had a third arc stemming from the base of the main bow, forming a V shape. Yet more bizarrely, when this reflected in the water, it produced a multi-coloured X, which made me chuckle at the thought of an irate oligarch and his intolerant companions.

Sadly, my phone camera didn't capture it very well

I will leave you with a sunny vista as we sailed south. Today, we're in the midst of an amber weather warning and venturing outside is not a sensible option. Hence blogging whilst there's still electricity. Stay safe, folks!