Natural highs and lows

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 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...

The past few weeks have seen several gales hammer through Orkney, bringing so much rain with them that it feels as though we might have imagined the drought of early Summer. At least we can now experience dawn at a reasonable time, this photo being taken a shade after 8am, whilst still clad in a dressing gown, balanced precariously on a folding chair, and holding a camera out of the top light of the dining room window. Image captured, dignity maintained, just. At this time of year, Little Auks appear in Orkney waters and elsewhere, blown in from the Atlantic and in need of a bit of shelter. We ventured to Scapa Bay to track down a couple of these diminutive birds which are only the size of a Starling. Through most of the bad weather, our bird feeder was quite busy with finches and the like but, during the last few days, the level of seed hasn't shifted one iota. At breakfast, on Saturday, we discovered why... This female Sparrowhawk must have moved into the area and quickly figured...

One evening last week, I noticed an odd-looking finch sat on the top wire of a fence. The day's light was fading fast but the bird appeared to have an orangey-red rump, and I had no idea what species it was. Hastily fetching my binoculars, but remaining indoors so as not to spook the bird, I realised that it was a Twite which had had a very close call with a predator, losing the feathers from its rump in the process. After a while, it flew off, so it mustn't have been too badly injured in the attack. Another evening, a couple of birds fluttering about on the lawn turned out to be a fledgling Meadow Pipit being fed by one of its parents. Several days later, an early morning visitor to the Willow hedge was this male Redpoll, resplendent in his red blusher.

Previously on 'Natural Highs and Lows'... "What WAS going to be my 100th bird species of the year?" As Fortune would have it, the next day saw a trip to the island of Hoy, a place of frequent pilgrimage in less virus-laden times. With all the restrictions on movement, my last trip had been in... hmmm... August, some eight months ago. That day I saw my last dragonfly of 2020 and it will be a few weeks yet before the first damselflies of 2021 are on the wing. But this post is about birds, hopefully. Aboard the Hoy Head, as she gently nosed out of Houton Bay headed for Lyness, the sky was blue from horizon to horizon. The waters of Scapa Flow were barely troubled by a wave. The view back to Houton and its old seaplane base was idyllic, although later that day the hill to the north would be ablaze as a fire got out of control. The loose aim of the day was to see White-tailed Eagle, by any measure a cracking bird to mark a century of species for the year (please note that ...

Yesterday (Saturday) was a bit of a dragonfest. Not because my favourite order of insects are on the wing yet, at least not in Orkney, but because the BDS was hosting its Scottish conference 2021 online. Lots of interesting talks about rare species, extraordinary behaviour, habitat management and public engagement. All the while that I was indoors, staring at a computer screen, there were regular updates on my phone about another winged predator, as a White-tailed Eagle was being seen over moorland not far to the north. So as soon as the conference was over, a short drive was taken to Birsay Moors in the hope of seeing an eagle. En route, a flock of about a hundred Golden Plover flew across the road in front of the car, their jinking flight flashing the white and gold of their plumage as the birds turned one way and then the other. Up on the moors, it was a struggle to find any birds. A couple of Ravens were keeping their wary eyes on us, a few Meadow Pipits appeared out of the heather...