Natural highs and lows

Yesterday, it was a calm, crisp morning for a walk in the parish of Orphir. Along the coastal path from the Bu, we were entertained by a soundscape of Eiders and Long-tailed Ducks, cooing and yodelling from the sea below. In Gyre Wood, there were countless Goldcrests foraging in the branches of the trees, whilst from lower down to the ground, Wrens blasted out their extensive repertoire. We encountered at least half a dozen species of fungi, either on the maritime heath, along hedgerows or in the wood. A view across Orphir Bay to the hills of Hoy By the clifftop path, a Buck's-horn Plantain shows off its basal leaf rosette   We didn't meet a single soul on our walk. The only brief company being three escaped sheep These ships are moored 😊 View over Gyre Wood to the Orphir hills Candlesnuff fungus beneath a Gorse hedge At the time, I thought this was Hogweed, but not so sure now. Secluded dell where a burn flows into Gyre Wood Difficult to photograph, a constantly-flitting Gold...

It's January, so as is the way of things these days, I remember that I am not immune to a little competitive birding. After all, when you're the worst birder in the house, you have to take your chances when you see (or hear) them. Essentially, if I wake early on New Year's Day, I can be ahead of the game for about two hours, or until Megan surfaces from her slumbers. For the remainder of the 364 days and 22 hours, I'm fighting a losing battle as, short of a miracle, I'm not going to see (or hear) as many species as she is. Now, for the first few months, most of my list seems to come from birds seen whilst driving about for work, or the weekly food shop. But the other night, I did have one moment of complete chance which, if I'd kept quiet, would've been quite the domestic coup. In the wee small hours, I couldn't sleep, worrying about some of those little things which beyond all reason keep folk awake. Outside in the pitch black and freezing cold, I heard...

Whilst contemplating the reason for the recent lack of blog posting (a bloggage blockage, I suppose), the obvious conclusion was that a lack of wildlife watching (and therefore source material) was a major contributor to the problem. The causes of this were manifold: Weather - lots of it and all quite unpleasant; Work - when able (see below); Wellbeing - we picked up a cold bug at the end of November and it is taking some shifting; Wherewithal - our stamina has been hit for six. Let me clarify that statement about the lack of wildlife watching... there's been a lack of actively going outside with the intention of watching wildlife. Meanwhile, indoors, there's been much perusal of live webcams from at least four continents. I'm not complaining, mind, as I think we would have gone mad without the distraction from the previously-mentioned Four Double-ues of the Apocalypse.  Thankfully, there have been fleeting moments of Nature's magic to lift the spirits and gladden the h...

Well, today was the very epitome of a natural high and low, and I am still processing the resulting tide of emotions. Perhaps I should add that this rising and crashing wave of a trip was not brought on by LSD, but rather by L-tD. Let me explain. This morning, the Orkney Field Club held one of its monthly wildlife events. As the weather of late has been so unremittingly dreich and the ground is so thoroughly sodden, AG, our walk leader for the event, had the inspired idea of an urban ramble around some of the streets and green spaces of Kirkwall, capital of Orkney. At the allotted time, we met up in a large car park by the Peedie Sea, a man-made lochan which is occasionally referred to as the town duck pond. A circumnavigation of this water body was an excellent start to the walk, allowing good views of Mute Swan, Grey Heron, gulls (Common, Black-headed, Herring and Great Black-backed), Ringed Plover, Turnstone, Red-breasted Merganser, Goldeneye, Tufted Duck, Mallard and Long-tailed Du...

When there are still ducks over-Wintering in Kirkwall, I think it's fair to say that the temperature has not yet reached the dictionary definition of 'warm'. Well, that's my excuse for still being in fleecy trousers. We have edged imperceptibly into double figures, as long as you forget to take into account the windchill. I do not forget. Long-tailed Ducks Yesterday we popped into Kirkwall to visit the supermarket to do our weekly food shopping. At least that was the official reason. In reality, we were headed to the Peedie Sea aka the town duck pond, just across the road from the supermarket, where a Red-rumped Swallow had been seen over the two previous days. This would be a lifer, so there was an edge to the occasion. I think the above photo of some ducks tells you all you need to know about a failed twitch. We didn't see it, and to ramp up the frustration further, later that day another rare species was seen in the same area - a Grey-headed Wagtail - again it wo...

Firstly, a Happy New Year to one and all. Yesterday was a bit of an education, and not just because I kept referring to it as New Year's Eve and being exasperatedly corrected to "Hogmanay!" As a person born outwith Scotland, it has always been a bit of a puzzle why Hogmanay is a bigger thing here than Christmas. However, I now know that this is due in large part to the Reformation in 1560 and Presbyterianism. From the mid 16th Century until well into the 20th Century, Christmas celebrations were banned. In fact, in Scotland, Christmas Day did not become a public holiday until 1958, and Boxing Day wasn't an official holiday until 1974. Scots being the canny folk they are, they transferred their celebrations to New Year's Eve (sorry, Hogmanay) and New Year's Day, which were secular occasions and not governed by the Church. Right then, what did I get up to on New Y... 🙄 ... Hogmanay? The weather forecast looked much better than for New Year's Day, so a gentl...

It is time for a bit of balance on NaHAL, after all those stormy posts of gale force winds and crashing seas. Today was calm, clear and wonderfully lit by a low Winter sun, the sort of day that reminds you why you live in Orkney.  In the afternoon, there was nothing else for it: forget festive shopping; say "No!" to chores; grab outdoor gear and immerse oneself in the spectacle. A few minutes' drive brings us to the Brodgar isthmus, the Neolithic landscape nestled between Harray and Stenness Lochs. A few other folk are taking the opportunity for some fresh air, but the car park is practically empty. Almost sacrilegiously, we bypass the four thousand year old stones of the Ring and head along the path that hugs the Stenness Loch shore, our eyes darting across the water's surface, hoping for a glimpse of an Otter, whilst our ears tune in to the bird calls which are emanating from the landscape: Curlew, Raven, Long-tailed Duck, Red-throated Diver, Wigeon and Meadow Pipit...

As we reach the end of 2021, I am reflecting upon a year when the weather has been anything but normal. The previous Winter wasn’t particularly stormy, then Spring was cool and dry, Summer was hot (by our standards!), and Autumn actually lasted longer than 24 hours, with the added bonus of some welcome colour to it. As I write, we’ve already had several storms of this Winter and the early December snows appeared on time. That much, at least, is usual. The birds which visit the county to breed in Spring and Summer, and those which use Orkney as a pitstop on their journeys to Southern Europe and Africa, are now long gone. Our Winter visitors have arrived: Redwings and Fieldfares tseep -ing and chack -ing their way through the shorter days; Long-tailed Ducks and Little Auks adding a frisson of excitement to our coastal walks; and Whooper Swans, Pink-footed Geese and Barnacle Geese grazing in the fields. Around our shores, the Grey Seal pupping season is now on the wane for this year, th...

Not the most imaginative title for a post, I'll admit, but this one encompasses several topics, including the mysterious deaths of many seabirds on the north and east coasts of the UK and a day spent surveying for signs of Orkney Voles, as well as also featuring a day's birding in Deerness and several ambles around the bay at Houton. Let's begin with the strange case of the auk 'wreck'. Every Winter, usually after a severe storm in the North Sea, many dead seabirds (often juveniles) wash up on the east and north coasts of the UK. It's depressingly normal, but it's nature, and something that the species involved cope with by their breeding strategies. Recently, many auks have been seen inshore at a time when they're expected to be out in the North Sea. These birds seem to have come back to the coast looking for food, and they have been weirdly confiding, a sure sign that all is not well. Many of them have died and been washed up on beaches. Without a Nort...