Natural highs and lows

In case you're wondering, yes, we survived last Sunday's beach clean at Orphir Bay despite the 40+mph winds. Fortunately (although actually unfortunately), there was so much rope on the beach, we were able to weigh down our plastic rubbish bags quite easily. Smaller bits of plastic were trickier to handle in the gusty conditions, for despite plunging the offending piece of litter into a bag, by some sort of venturi effect, it would be whipped back out by the wind. I had to pick up one particularly annoying food wrapper four times 🙄  At a rough guess, 95% of what the group collected was fishing-orientated: rope, string and netting. There was also plenty of parcel strapping and, new for 2024, some discarded coffee pods. The following day saw Megan and I head over to Deerness to carry out some vole monitoring, with the Spring survey for the Orkney Native Wildlife Project. Shortly after beginning the first of our two transects, Megan found a caterpillar of the Ruby Tiger moth clam...

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,...

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...

For me, a keenly-anticipated holiday can have a bittersweet moment as it becomes a reality. Although I am always ready for some downtime, travelling doesn't usually fill me with the same sense of gladness.  This year, my grumpiness was mitigated to obscurity by circumventing a ludicrously early start and treating the rest of the day as continuous birdwatching. We booked B+B on the mv Hamnavoe, so spent the first night of our holiday berthed in Stromness harbour, which meant that we didn't have to be up at stupid o'clock to pack the car and drive to the ferry. It also allowed me the opportunity to reprise a motif from a previous blog. Although there wasn't a kitchen sink or a pen involved, I woul d like to think that Dodie Smith would've approved. After a smooth crossing of the Pentland Firth, we set off from Scrabster, on the north coast of Caithness, at a leisurely pace, and turning west, not east like the majority of our shipmates. Just before Melvich, we took a t...

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...