Natural highs and lows

Today was mainly about volunteering for Species on the Edge, carrying out March's wildlife surveys. In the morning, Megan and I went to the old Stromness Waterworks site to look for bumblebees, then in the afternoon, I went to Yesnaby on the west coast to search for Sea Plantain Leaf Beetles. The previous two days had been absolutely gorgeous, the warmest and sunniest of the year so far, leading to the appearance of two Small Tortoiseshell butterflies and a Buff-tailed Bumblebee queen in our garden. Today was cooler and cloudier, so hopes weren't high for either survey. At the old Stromness Waterworks site, some of the verges had a few Coltsfoot in flower, the reservoir dam head was liberally sprinkled with Primroses, whilst a few Daisies and a Gorse bush managed to push the nectar-providing count towards four species. Even the feral Daffodils which inhabit so many Orcadian verges weren't yet convinced of Spring's arrival. It was all meagre fare for a foraging bee, and ...

Fear not, gentle reader, for despite the interconnectedness of all things, this is not a continuation of the recent rabbit-inspired blogpost.  In the last week or so, there have been numerous trips to some of the smaller islands of Orkney, all work-related, but with the occasional opportunity for a bit of wildlife watching. My first port of call was Westray, on a cold, rainy and windy day. I recall eating my lunch in the car, parked by a pool and reedbed near the shore of the Bay of Tuquoy Bay. No photos from the day, but I did manage to add Moorhen and Coot to my year list. Next up was Sanday for a couple of satellite tv repairs. Once these were completed, I drove to the eastern end of the island and wandered along a track towards Start Point lighthouse.  I remember having driven along this track in previous years to reach another customer, so I suspect that the route to the cottage is now by a different route. None of my previous visits to Sanday have ever been at low tide t...

One of the beautiful things about Orkney is that the weather is borderline neurodivergent, which may go some way to explaining why it is difficult to get an accurate diagnosis forecast. Currently*, we're back to experiencing wildly different weather on consecutive days, such that the worryingly neurotypical consistent weather of late January and early February seems but a distant memory. On Wednesday last, it was more dreich than a waterfall shower after all the hot water's gone, so I was pleasantly surprised, upon returning home for lunch, to learn that Megan had been watching a Buzzard all morning. Raptors do not usually hunt during heavy rain, but the bird in question had been sat on various fence posts in the valley below, staring intently at the ground for worms and, possibly, frogs. Before changing out of my wet weather gear, I wandered down the hill, a little closer to the bird, for a grainy photo.  This particular buzzard was part of a local wing-tagging project, and w...

In another time and place, I used to think that a good blogpost needed three connected events or incidents, circling around on themselves to create a satisfying denouement. It wasn't a well-researched theory, or a plot device from a writing course, it was just a vibe that seemed to work more often than not.  Of late, that sort of thinking hasn't been to the fore, NaHaL posts seem to be more a diary entry or chronological list of events. In fact, the post I was going to write this evening was exactly that, a recap of wildlife moments from the past week, culminating in yesterday's beetle survey and a Volunteer Thank You event with the RSPB. Now, what with war, genocide and files, the world's not at its best at the moment apart, perhaps, for the resounding success of the Green Party of England and Wales in a by-election. I suspect that, like many other folk, a bit of gentle escapism from the constant stream of terrible news headlines is an absolute must to maintain some so...