Natural highs and lows

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...

I should say straight away that we're not in Sri Lanka. And no camels have been lost. * On Monday last, whilst we were recce-ing a route for a survey (recounted here ), a text alert popped up to say that a Cattle Egret had been seen less than five miles away. This small member of the heron family would be a lifer for Megan, for whilst it is a recent colonist of the British Isles, very few of them reach the north of Scotland, and consequently Megan had never seen one. Professional as ever, she opted to complete the recce and only then would we head east to try to see the egret. As the name suggests, Cattle Egrets are often found in association with livestock and this particular individual was with a small herd of Aberdeen Angus. Unfortunately for us, the cattle were moved to a different field before we arrived on the scene, with the result that the bird had been spooked and disappeared. A few updates suggested that it was still in the area, but we couldn't match the description...

Under half an hour away from the holiday cottage was the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust's Welney reserve. A brief look at the sightings from previous days revealed that there were several species that would make the trip worthwhile for us, even without the thought of Sunday lunch in the cafe. At this time of year, the Winter flooding of the reserve has not yet subsided, so a few of the paths were inaccessible, but not to worry, we met lots of friendly birders who were only too glad to help with identifying strange-plumaged birds and pointing out fly-over rarities. I should point out, the birds weren't actually strange-plumaged, they were just species we're used to seeing in Orkney in Winter plumage, and here they were changing into their Summer finery. Great White Egret, we managed this ID on our own Avocets, I knew this one from my recent Sanday sighting! During the afore-mentioned lunch, with breaks between courses to twitch Tree Sparrow on the neighbouring feeders, we were...

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...

Bright and breezy, the westerly gusts possessed a cool razor's edge. Scapa Bay wasn't as sheltered as it would be from a southerly wind, but this didn't stop a huge flock of gulls from gathering far out in the middle. A few grebes and auks could be picked out from this throng, though they were difficult to identify to species at distance. Closer to or on the shore, were assorted Redshanks, Guillemots and Black-headed Gulls, the latter not actually sporting black feathers on its head, more a dull brown.  The scientific name for Black-headed Gull,  Chroicocephalus ridibundus , translates as 'coloured head laughing', so rather unhelpfully not a direct reference to which colour, and the laughing referring to its call. Oddly, and this is often the case with gull nomenclature, there is a species known as Laughing Gull, whose scientific name is Leucophaeus ( or Larus) atricilla , translating as 'white/brown blacktail', without any reference to laughing at all. It...

To end February, a walk to Binscarth Wood alongside the Loch of Wasdale. Through the wood, clouds of Snowdrops scud Bridging burns or burning bridges? The classic Raven silhouette Loch broch and Wasdale Whoopers   The following evening, the sun cast a golden glow across Houton Bay. Across Houton Bay, the sun disappears behind Hoy

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 ...