Natural highs and lows

As I write, rain is hammering against the kitchen window, bushes and trees are waving energetically in the strong wind, and my inclination is to not venture outdoors. Even Mocha, our more outdoorsy cat, who usually has cabin fever at the drop of a latch, is snuggled up on the back of the sofa, snoring gently. Yesterday, as someone once said for a very different reason, was such an easy game to play. With a customer to visit in Hoy, we took the mid-morning ferry from Houton to Lyness, and were on site for just after eleven o'clock. An hour later, with work complete, Megan and I then headed to Rackwick Bay on the west of the island, with vague thoughts of a picnic by the beach and an amble around the area. There wasn't a breath of wind, sunny periods between silver grey clouds gave way to a cloudless blue sky and, although it was chilly, only a few pools in the shadows were still etched with ice. The raindrops that fall upon the hills, and then flow into the burns, maintain a mem...

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 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...

A weekend break across Scapa Flow on the islands of Hoy and South Walls had a very damp start, with a day of non-stop rain. It was needed, mind, to replenish reservoirs, ponds and the water table. However, it wasn't ideal circumstances for nature watching. The only bright side was that it was vertical weather rather then the more usual horizontal sort we're used to. The plan was to look for Harbour Porpoises in the stretch of sea between Flotta and Hoy, and although we did see some at a distance, the precipitation didn't help the cause. The Martello Tower at Crockness, with the one at Hackness visible to the left A Fox Moth caterpillar Drookit bumblebees sheltering on thistles Drookit humans sheltering in a car Despite the wet weather, and against all expectations, we encountered four species of raptor out hunting in the rain. I really didn't think they did this. Below is a photo of a Sparrowhawk, taken just after a failed attempt to catch a Meadow Pipit. In addition, w...

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 ...