Natural highs and lows

Let's begin with a couple of apologies: 1. We're not done with hare posts just yet. I'm sorry. Buckle up; 2. I have been quite restrained with my punning of late (no, really), but I don't think I can hold back the groundswell of awful puns for much longer. I am so sorry. As we reach the end of March, the stubble field behind our house is pretty much on borrowed time. In an area where about half the island's income comes from agriculture, that land is going to be ploughed, rolled and sowed some time soon. So with a sense of contemplative resignation, we have been enjoying the Brown Hares and their antics, because come the plough, they will be harder to spot, even if they take the tramlines. Once the field is rolled and sown, I doubt the hares will have anywhere to hide, although they do have form in this regard. Then it will be a case of waiting for the new green growth of the crop to once more tempt the hares back, providing them with both food and cover. Over the w...

It's the Saturday morning of Big Garden Birdwatch weekend, apples have been halved and strewn in the front garden, two scoops of bird seed have been liberally scattered in sheltered spots, I am stood at the kitchen window eagerly anticipating feathery fauna feeding, and I haven't even shaved yet. The RSPB's citizen science wildlife survey, reputedly the largest of its kind in the UK, is in full swing across the land whilst, here in Orkney, yet another gale is making things a bit challenging. Not for me, obvs, I'm sat indoors with a mug of tea, but the birds are a little reluctant to battle with the driving rain. Normally, by now, on any of the 363 days in the year which aren't part of the BGBW, there would have been a throng of hungry birds (from a single female Chaffinch to a horde of quarrelsome Rooks) busily feeding. Whatever. The. Weather. 🙄 Perhaps Sunday will be more to their liking. Most of the wildlife action of late has actually been on the opposite side o...

We've (ok, I've) still not fitted a cat flap for Cookie and Mocha, as they seem quite content with their personalised aperture opening service. As a system, it does have the advantage of taking into account which direction the weather is galloping in from, thereby giving a much pleasanter feline experience via whichever door or window opens onto the leeside of the house. In turn, we have become used to checking said aperture for an irate bundle of fur, silently miaow-ing at the double glazing. "Irate" because we're never, ever quick enough to respond, and "silently" because of the sound insulating properties of modern doors and windows. All these decades later, I still find the silence of double glazing a little off-putting, having grown up in a house which had such thin panes of single glazing and so many draughts that it often felt like there weren't any windows. However, my ears were certainly attuned to any and every bird sound outside, whether i...

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...

When the Met Office issues multiple weather warnings of various and increasingly-scary hues, then it pays to take notice. Especially if I have another boat journey on the horizon. Yup, last week it was another trip to Shetland, thankfully neatly sandwiched between Storms Dudley and Eunice. In fact, both crossings were quite smooth, and the day in Shetland was dry and calm, if very icy underfoot. Back in Orkney, yesterday was more of the same, blue sky, nae wind and an almost Spring-like frisson running through Nature. It was difficult to get my head around the fact that this was Orkney in mid February, whilst much of England, Wales and southern Scotland were being pelted with very windy weather. So, we ventured outside and around the bay. Some of the local Starlings being vocal on the overhead wires An immature Herring Gull (I think? They're all difficult to ID when young) Across the bay, a large flock of Dunlin (mainly), with a few Ringed Plovers Houton Bay. Weather warning, anyon...

I may have been watching too much Death in Paradise on catch-up to have had the means, motive or opportunity to murder the English language with another blogpost. Then again, it could have been due to the wintry weather, or just a lack of muse. Not to worry, here's a quick round-up of the past two weeks... A trip to Shetland (key worker/same Covid tier) saw me catch the 11.45pm ferry from Kirkwall, arriving in Lerwick at 7.30am the following morning. All was eerily quiet as I pondered when it would be polite to phone the customer to announce my presence on the island. I reckoned 9am was probably ok, so meantime set off in search of some breakfast. Leaving my vehicle in an almost empty car above Fort Charlotte, I strolled through the chill air and deserted streets of Lerwick to a take away cafe and bought an egg roll and a cup of tea. Unbeknownst to me, my return journey to the car was being monitored from a rampart of the fort, for no sooner had I closed the vehicle door, than a l...