Tales of the Riverbank

It may have been apparent from my previous post that Megan and I have recently spent some time outwith the county. Once again, we took our Summer holiday in a self-catering let on the outskirts of Blairgowrie in Perthshire, but this time for two weeks, the better to soak up the ambience of trees and rivers, as well as a wealth of birdsong.

So how did a fortnight's wildlife watching go? Well, the weather was just peachy, barely a drop of rain, with the only persistent precipitation occurring on Day 15 during the drive home through Sutherland and Caithness. We explored nature reserves from Loch Fleet to the Tay Reedbeds, sauntered along riverbanks, through woods and by fast-flowing burns, eyes and ears open for plant and animal life. It could be said that this is a bit of a bus-person's holiday for Megan, what with her job as a wildlife guide, but finding things she's never seen before or witnessing different behaviours are just as exciting as ever. Caledonia did not disappoint.

Obviously, April is a little early for a Summer holiday...

However, despite the lack of Swifts (*sobs*) and dragonflies (*wails*), we had a splendiferous time, with only the occasional bit of chuntering from Yours Truly that it was either too cold or too hot.

After sailing across the Pentland Firth, there was an eight hour drive from Scrabster on the north coast down to Blairgowrie. Fortuitously, just before our destination, we stopped off at a gin distillery for holiday supplies, so that by the time we had unloaded the car and unpacked our things, we were in need of refreshment.

Raspberry and Mint gin from the Persie Distillery

In the evening, we took a short walk, following a farm track and then quiet roads. As the light faded, we watched Roe Deer appearing from woods to forage in fields, saw a pair of Grey Partridge and discovered another footpath which looked good for a proper exploration the following day.

The footpath's route was along the banks of the River Ericht (see photo at top of post) to a footbridge downstream and returning on the opposite bank. Both Megan and I misread the information board, thinking that the total distance was 4 miles, so we set off mid morning, travelling light. In fact it was 4 miles TO the footbridge, not including the distance from the cottage to the start point. However, before we discovered the error of our ways, we had one of those magical moments that transcends minor human woes, and which kept up our flagging spirits when we realised that we would be walking much further.

We had stopped to photograph a pair of Yellowhammers feeding on the ground, right in the middle of the footpath ahead. Megan began filming them, so I tried to keep quiet (not often successful) and casually looked around at the signs of Beavers along the stretch of bank where we were stood. There were a few trees with classic gnawing patterns, lots of wood chippings covering the ground and, at the other side of the river, a few branches toppled to water level and with their bark stripped. As I focussed my binoculars on these branches, a furry face suddenly appeared behind them. Before I could whisper a message to Megan, I realised that it wasn't a Beaver, but in fact an Otter. In the middle of the day, hunting in broad daylight, just across the river, totally unconcerned by our presence. As charming as Yellowhammers undoubtedly are, they rarely trump Otters in a "What Do You Want To Watch?" decision. As we were stood in slightly different places, here's some video I shot and then Megan's much better one.

After about 10 minutes of foraging, the Otter eventually moved away and we simply stared at each other in silence for a few moments. Words seemed superfluous.

Another mile or so along the river bank, Megan discreetly went to answer a call of Nature. I made myself scarce in the opposite direction and then things went from the sublime to the ridiculous. Whilst otherwise occupied, Megan heard a loud slap and splash from the river (coincidentally mid-flow) which could theoretically have been a fish, a duck or perhaps a Beaver. I was blithely unaware of the sound and we weren't to discover the actual answer until much later in the holiday.