Natural highs and lows

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...

Late September in Orkney and we're still enjoying blue skies, sunshine and modest breezes. Typically, I had managed to tweak my lower back, one of those annoying muscular twinges that benefits from keeping moving rather than remaining motionless, so walking was a good remedy. Fortuitously, we were due to carry out our Autumn vole transects, monitoring activity for the Orkney Native Wildlife Project. The drive to Mull Head, even as a passenger, wasn't pleasant, but once out on the moorland, my spirits raised and we set about the first transect, recording any signs of chewed bits of grass and the digestive results of said chewing. As ever, on the march between the two transects, we stopped for lunch and some scenic views. No voles here, but there is a Harbour Seal... Also between the transects, we happened upon some ONWP staff out testing their latest bit of Stoat-spotting gadgetry, a drone with a thermal camera. Never mind invasive mammals, even during the day, with this technol...

It had been an arduous week, at least for folk who don't routinely set an alarm to rouse them from their slumbers. But several island trips meant being up and about to catch ferries and, by Friday morning we were agreed, the weekend couldn't come soon enough, with the promise of a lie-in and a slow day. As plans go, it only had one small flaw. All week, whilst pinging about between islands, we were aware that a rare bird had been sighted on yet another island, and as each day passed, it was still there, ramping up hope and tension in equal measure. Would it stay? Would we go? Come Friday evening, we absolutely caved on the lie-in idea and booked the ferry to Stronsay, leaving Kirkwall at 7am. Ouch. I was awake at 5am, before the alarm, blundering into the kitchen semi-conscious, rustling up tea and coffee to kickstart our day. Paradoxically, Megan, who is normally grumpy until at least the second coffee, was bouncing around at the thought of a twitch and adding a species to her...

The past week or so has seen plenty of natural lows in the British Isles: the UK is experiencing more wildfires; one in six species are at risk of extinction in Great Britain; a person chopped down a tree (for some reason this is worse than lots of people elsewhere chopping down lots of trees); oh, and the go-ahead has been given to extract more gas and oil from the North Sea, single-handedly driving a coach and horses through any plan to meet our climate targets. It is all rather depressing, and I struggled to think of how to lift the mood. Signing online petitions helps a little, but travelling over 500 miles to join an actual demonstration in London is clearly not carbon-neutral, never mind the financial cost. Oh well, there's always the Autumn vole survey to do for the Orkney Native Wildlife Project, so that will have to suffice. Our designated site is a couple of 1km transects on Mull Head in Deerness. Several potential dates for the survey came and went in a flurry of heavy s...

The title is a reference to a track from Moonchild, the debut album by Celtus back in 1997. Here in 2023, yesterday was a bit of a strange day. I awoke to the news that, during the small hours of the night, the Scotland Men's cricket team had secured a 10 wicket victory over Namibia in their latest ICC League 2 match. Astonishing as it was, it wasn't going to be the biggest shock of the day. Just before lunch, after a morning of work admin, I flicked over to social media to be stunned by the news that Nicola Sturgeon, Scotland's First Minister, had announced her resignation. Now, I am not a particularly political animal, but to my mind, it is impossible to have lived through Brexit and a global pandemic without having developed a respect for such a straight talking, down to earth, empathetic and conscientious leader. She stood head and shoulders above many other politicians, both at home and abroad, in times when it was critical that she put her country first. Admittedly, ...

There follows a jumble of images from the past few days, no common thread as such, save for being outdoors with camera in hand. Friday was a pleasanter day than forecast, but by the time I had finished work and was able to go for a walk, the sun was almost completely obscured by cloud (steady, Pink Floyd fans). Here it is as a barely perceptible spot of light over the hills of Hoy, as seen from Midland Hill in Orphir. Saturday was flippin' chilly, especially so for a southerly wind, but during a walk to Swanbister Bay, it gradually abated. Front to back: Ringed Plover and Dunlin; Great Black-backed Gulls and Redshank; Bar-tailed Godwit More Bar-tailed Godwit Golden Plover beginning to come into Summer plumage A panoramic view of Swanbister Bay The awful events in Ukraine are never far from our minds. With a Russian tanker due to call in at the oil terminal in Flotta this coming Tuesday, Orkney finds itself thrust into the news. So it wasn't a huge surprise when a Navy ship appe...