Natural highs and lows

Another week of island hopping for work, with a bit of wildlife watching thrown in for good measure, and another survey completed. The weather's been very April, some balmy days (for here), plus some wind and lash at other times. Whilst on Stronsay, mid-week, I had a few hours to spare before the ferry home. At the lochan of Matpow, there were plenty of ducks to be seen: Mallard, Wigeon, Teal, Gadwall, Red-breasted Merganser, Pintail, Shoveler and Shelduck. Scanning around the shore, I spotted a Snipe snuggled down out of the wind, and on a small islet were a pair of Sandwich Terns. At St Catherine's Bay, the avian interest was limited to gulls, until four Godwits flew in and began feeding in the shallows. I struggled to keep my bins steady enough to identify which species, but fortunately I took some video as they were flying, which later allowed me to see they were Bar-tailed Godwits. On Good Friday, I had to go to Hoy at lunchtime. Scapa Flow was like a mill pond, so I sat o...

Serves me right, I shouldn't have mentioned 'Spring', it brought virtually instant retribution in the form of several days of southeasterly gales. However, just before they arrived, there were a few more pleasant moments. A walk at Brodgar was graced with a Skylark singing from on high for all he was worth, in defiant opposition to (in no particular order) other male Skylarks, hungry raptors, the gusty wind and gravity. There were ducks aplenty on both Harray Loch (freshwater) and Stenness Loch (brackish), as well as in field pools and scrapes. Just over the brow of a low hill from the Neolithic stone circle, a piece of rough ground offered up a Short-eared Owl on a fence post. When I tried to film it, the owl immediately took to the air, and all I managed was 7 seconds of shaky, wind-blasted footage. Back home, I was able to turn off the wind noise, and slow down the footage so that it wasn't so jerky, resulting in a slo-mo SEO. Some of the afore-mentioned waterfowl, T...

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...

From top left: Stonechat; Eurasian Otter; Short-eared Owl; Dandelion; Redshank; Sheep's-bit Scabious; Common Blue butterfly; Atlantic Puffin; Ringed Plover; Red-breasted Mergansers; Grey Seal with pup; Long-tailed Ducks.

A walk from the outskirts of Kirkwall into the centre of town allowed an appreciation of the low sun on a Winter's day in Orkney. The walk, which began in the early afternoon, was about four and a half miles and ended after sunset. This suggests that the pace was very slow, but although there were frequent tops for photography, the real reason was the limited daylight at 59 degrees North. Gorse all aglow At the Peedie Sea, there were several Long-tailed Ducks, a Winter speciality in these parts This one's a male And this is a female A male Red-breasted Merganser in Kirkwall Bay More Long-tailed Ducks The Peedie Sea is effectively the town duck pond Kirkwall Marina The return trip was much gloomier, so consequently there weren't any photos of the walk home.

There are signs... amongst the day-to-day happenings, there are definitely signs. In Orkney, Autumn is not so much a season, it's the dawning realisation that birds you have been listening to or watching for several months are no longer there. Then, no sooner than that thought has flickered across your mind, the empty skies, fields and bays are filled with different species, a new palette of colours, sights and sounds. And, if you're a leaf, Autumn lasts about 24 hours. Plants don't tend to be sentimental, they can't afford to be. For them, Summer to Winter is like a switch being thrown. This week, many flocks of Pink-footed Geese winged their way south through the scudding Orcadian sky. Energetic V's of "Wink, wink" sounds battling the gusting breeze as they headed for estuaries far from the Arctic Circle. I saw my first Whooper Swans of the Winter, a group of a dozen, counter-intuitively flying north, but I think they were headed for St Peter's Pool ...