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...

This past week has seen two island trips, with ferry journeys to Eday and Egilsay. Although these were working days, there were brief moments of wildlife wonder, as my inner naturalist is never really off duty. Eday was a 13 hour day, and the only non-work photograph I took was this Rabbit on the customer's drive. However, whilst I was toiling away outside, a Wren frequently sang, its accent very distinctly of the island, rather laid back and unhurried.  A pair of Hooded Crows were looking after their two fledglings, and every time I stepped out of doors, they let me know that they were distinctly unimpressed at my presence. A few days later, the Egilsay ferry trip meant calling in at another two islands first, so I had to reverse to the back of the boat whilst everyone else boarded and disembarked in Rousay or Wyre. The local Library van, Booky McBookface, was visiting Rousay Rousay stop with the postie picking up the inbound mail and delivering the outbound mail to the boat Bound...

We're not talking invoices here, like being charged a fortune for a glass of wine in a restaurant or your energy supplier upping your monthly payments threefold without mentioning it to you. No, this post is about beaks. Bird's beaks, or birds' beaks to be more exact. Island-hopping for work had carried on apace, and yesterday I visited Sanday for various connectivity issues. As per usual, after the customers were reunited with tv signal, I had a few hours to spare waiting for the return ferry. Oddly, for me, I was quite organised, and had prepared a picnic in advance, so was able to head to a beach for lunch. I should say that there was also a bitingly chilly easterly breeze which strived to deploy my salad leaves downwind if I wasn't concentrating. Whilst working my way through some coronation chicken and pitta bread, it was pleasant to watch a couple of Gannets out in the bay, plunge diving for fish. There were waders galore in the rock pools and along the tide line,...

Whilst tourist season in Orkney never quite leaves us, as we reach May things are beginning to ramp up after the Winter nadir. Cruise ships are visiting again, the island's coaches are busy ferrying holiday-makers to the Neolithic sweet spots or 21st Century craft shops (gin, jewellery, textiles and whisky) and there are walks to be recce'd for my partner's wildlife guiding business. Of these latter things, one such was a trip to Flotta, an island at the southern end of Scapa Flow which, upon arrival, is dominated by the view of an oil terminal. I suspect that this puts off folk from visiting, locals and tourists alike, unless they have a flare for miles of overhead piping and large oil tanks. Behind all the fossil fuel infrastructure lies a peaceful, gentle landscape with less than 100 residents and lots of wildlife. It's a bit of a secret gem. The waters of Scapa Flow were flat calm for the short ferry crossing from Houton on the Orkney Mainland. We sailed by dozens o...

When I am in need of headspace (and what with the state of the world, I very am), I gravitate towards the island of North Ronaldsay at the far north-eastern corner of the Orkney archipelago. A long weekend, accommodated at the Bird Observatory is just the thing, I find. At only three miles by one mile, somehow its smallness gently brings one's focus towards what is front of you, and only that, rather than any thoughts of the global snitstorm. So here is a selection of the wildlife and landscapes that were in front of me from Friday afternoon to Sunday evening... Purple Sandpiper, Nouster Bay The famous seaweed-eating sheep, Nouster Bay Harbour Seals, Nouster Bay (one is having a pee) Harbour Seal, Nouster Bay Lapwing, in pasture by Gretchen Loch Wren, by Ancum Sheep skull, outside the Wool Mill Waves, Dennis Ness North Ronaldsay Lighthouse and foghorn (with photo-bombing Fulmar) Note: There's lots of Fulmars on North Ronaldsay, as most of the island is coast, and they photo-bom...