West Highlands, 2022 – 6

Tags

alpaca, azure hawker, black darter dragonfly, comma butterfly, Common Hawker, Cona Glen, golden-ringed dragonfly, goosander, highland cow, highland pony, Knot grass moth, Loch Eil, Loch Linnhe, Meadow pipit, oystercatcher, pine marten, rhea, River Lochy, Scotch argus, sea eagle, Stronchreggan, The Jacobite, white-tailed eagle

Friday, 16th September, last wildlife day. Out before breakfast, for nearly two hours! We had two hopes: to see black grouse lekking, and to see otters. For the first, we drove through Fort William and just out the other side, to the south I think. When we got to the lekking ground, at first light, the first thing I saw through my binoculars was a jogger climbing a stile at its edge. “Well, that’s put paid to that, then”, said Jon. We hung around a bit to see if any grouse that had been frightened off would come back, but they didn’t.

We moved back through Fort William to the mouth of the River Lochy, (which joins the junction of Lochs Linnhe and Eil at which the town is built) parked in a small industrial estate, and walked through it to the river, with instructions to be very quiet, and not stand too close to the edge of the bank, because the otters were likely in their dens below our feet.

The view at that time of the (very cold!) morning was gorgeous.

Sadly we saw no otter, but did, in the early morning dimness, and over the other side, see goosander,

swans, (plus hooded crow and pigeon),

and a couple of white-tailed eagles, which was an unexpected pleasure.

It was good to get back to Glenloy Lodge for a warming breakfast.

For the rest of the day, it was much warmer than it had been earlier in the week. Not hot, but pleasantly warm, especially in the sun. Today’s main outing again took us on the very first part of the Road to the Isles, that is along the north side of Loch Eil, then back along its southern side, then south along the western side of the upper part of Loch Linnhe.

From the southern side of Loch Eil, we again saw The Jacobite, aka Harry Potter’s train, passing along the northern side.

Oystercatchers

Highland ponies glimpsed from the van

Yet more while-tailed eagles. Jon thought they might be the same we had seen before breakfast.

Highland cows, in their original colour. The Victorians preferred the red, so red was bred to become the norm.

Jon sees what he can see.

I cannot find this caterpillar in my butterfly book, but an internet search leads me to think it may be that of a Knot grass moth.

An alpaca and two rheas, not animals you expect to see in the Scottish Highlands

Around midday, we left the van for a walk up Stronchreggan, off Loch Linnhe.

David, Jon and Angela ahead of me

One of the largest British dragonflies, the golden-ringed

Two of the smallest, black darters

The others got very excited to see this, an azure hawker. It is only found in the West Highlands. And according to my book, this was pretty late for it to be about.

This, on the other hand, was just a common hawker…

The moon was going down…

Unconnected with that, we had to turn round and make our way back to the van, not least to have some lunch. But I held back, so reluctant was I to tear myself away from the magnificent view, and just being – warm what’s more – in such wild splendour. I took large breaths to try to take it in.

Comma butterfly, unusual in Scotland apparently

We moved further down Loch Linnhe,

and went for another walk, this time along the Cona Glen.

David was very keen to find a Scotch argus butterfly. As we were about to turn round, Jon and Angela found one for him, and caught it in their net. It was very near the end of its active life, but at least it was a Scotch argus.

Meadow pipit

A final look at Ben Nevis, and it was time for home. We returned via the Corran Ferry.

A pine marten decided to oblige before dinner, while there was still some reasonable light for photos.

Those claws!

The wildlife trip was over, but not my holiday. Because of transport timings, I had to remain in the area for another day, so stayed in Fort William on the second Saturday night. The last post in this series will recount a very different day, yet one with some links to the previous six.

Travelling again – 10. Lindisfarne

Tags

Berwick-on-Tweed, Covid, fritillary, goosander, kestrel, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne Castle, Meadow pipit, Northern Marsh Orchid, pirri-pirri bur, poppy, scaup, small heath butterfly, stoat, swan, viper's bugloss

After a good night’s sleep, I looked out of the window of my Berwick-on-Tweed B’n’B’ bedroom, to see this.

My destination today, Thursday 17th June, was Shipley, in West Yorkshire, where I was to spend two nights with an old school friend (another Hazel) and her husband. My planned stop-off en route was just a few miles away, Holy Island, Lindisfarne. According to published information, the causeway to it would not be safe until 10.40, so I had plenty of time to kill. Having checked out after a good breakfast, I walked over to look at the sea.

Where there were literally hundreds of swans. No one picture could capture them all, and many were sailing (?) round to the other side of the harbour wall. I wondered whether this was in reaction to the tide falling.

I arrived at the Lindisfarne causeway around 10.30, expecting to have to wait, but that was not the case, and it was clear from the numbers in the car park that others knew that the published timings were set to cover only the extremes of safety.

But I stopped in a layby to take photos of the causeway first. I had never driven across a floodable causeway before, and was curious.

Once parked – quite a palaver in order to pay – I followed the crowds into the ‘village’ so that I could pick up the anti-clockwise circular path I intended to take. I’ll admit now that I did not have the plan with me and relied on just a brief look at this board. As a result I walked much further than I intended. But it was a lovely warm day – the only one in the whole of my time away – and a lovely setting, so apart from worries about time, that didn’t matter at all.

At the harbour, the ruined priory was to my right. Time did not allow further investigation.

The castle had been in view for most of the time, and indeed could be seen from all nearly over the island.

Not only did time mean I could not visit this National Trust property, but I should have had to book in advance because of Covid restrictions.

Some way further on, a kestrel was hovering overhead, and I followed its subsequent flight with my camera. I confess to being quite pleased with this picture.

I took a backward look at the castle.

Coming near to the shore, I wondered what these curious bumps were. A zoom on my camera revealed all.

A trio of goosanders

A spent a few minutes in the hide by this lake, but just before I got to it, …

I was thrilled not only to notice, but to get a photo of this stoat, as it stopped its scuttling for a second or two. (It could of course be a weasel; I did not see its definitive characteristic, the colour of the tip of its tail.)

Cygnets just a few days old

Scaup, I think, but I’m not sure

At this point I turned inland, but I went further than I intended, missing somehow where I should have turned south.

I should not have gone into these dunes.

Viper’s bugloss

I’m getting to recognise Northern Marsh Orchid – or am I?

Small heath

Starting to worry about time, I was feeling rather hot and beginning to feel hungry, and the castle and the priory seemed a long way off, but at least they were landmarks. I was definitely going south now.

I enjoyed, nevertheless, the lovely heathland flowers.

Presumably these are variety of tiny thyme, but they look more like a mass of seething mauve ants.

A fritillary of some sort

I saw so many meadow pipits

As I eventually emerged onto the road I saw both these lovely poppies and two people. “Is it far to the car park?” I asked, not really sure where I was. “Not very far at all’ they said – and I was very pleased that in fact it was barely 100 yards further on.

I can remember very little of the long drive to West Yorkshire. I just recall that I was very pleased to refresh myself before joining my hosts for an evening meal.

Travelling again – 6. Mountain and Lochans

Tags

Cairn Gorm, chickweed-wintergreen, Grant Arms Hotel, Meadow pipit, mountain avens, pill box, ring ouzel, Uath Lochans, willow warbler, WWII defences

Settings for morning and afternoon outings on Sunday 13th June could not have been more different, and it will become clear which I preferred.

I had been dubious about taking on the morning trip on Cairn Gorm with Nigel, and Sue W (the overall co-ordinator of programmes at the Grant Arms Hotel), as the programme mentioned walking up the mountain for a while. I am just not good on steady rises, but I decided to see how the land lay, as it were.

I stopped at the Cairn Gorm Ski centre’s lower car park to take advantage of the ‘viewpoint’, but as viewpoints go, I was a little disappointed. No doubt much better covered in snow.

While the lower car park had been nearly empty, the upper one, with the main ski centre, had plenty of vehicles there, despite it not being the skiing season. I took this photo to show that there was still snow in one very sheltered spot.

We met up, about a dozen of us, and I enquired how strenuous the walk was going to be. About half a mile of gentle walking I was informed, so decided of course to join in.

Sadly, much evidence of skiing paraphernalia was in evidence, and this was the least beautiful of the wildlife outings I did the entire stay.

The venue had been chosen in the hope of seeing a Ring ouzel or two, and, I think, a wheatear – I can’t remember. The first was achieved within a couple of minutes of our setting off, and very close, to the astonishment of those who knew about these things. A Ring ouzel, a.k.a. ‘mountain blackbird’, like the blackbird is a member of the thrush family. It has a white crescent bib.

We watched it bob about, getting to closer to us, for some time. It can just be seen at 10 o’clock on the edge of the upper large rock below.

More chickweed-wintergreen, actually a member of the primrose family:

There was a wildlife flower garden right by, in which we spent some time, and I could have taken a few more pictures of labelled plants (to be honest, the garden needed some tending) but I chose just this one, mountain avens.

People were also very pleased to see and hear a Willow warbler.

We started our trek uphill, which was not at all strenuous of course at the pace we went.

It was impossible to avoid man-made mountain furniture.

Though by focussing, once we got to our highest spot, on a very distant Ring ouzel, I could pretend it wasn’t there.

A very distant Meadow pipit took advantage.

I was pretty well in the vanguard of those turning round in due course, the thought of a coffee in the centre being rather attractive.

But we waited for the others, even so.

And were rewarded with another Willow warbler. Or perhaps it was the same one, having moved tree.

The afternoon was another kettle of fish, the Uath Lochans, which I see from this information is pronounced ‘wah lochans’ and means the hawthorn small lochs. A very pleasant afternoon was spent on a short trail, even though we did not see the Crested tit hoped for by many.

We met a mother and two children who visited regularly with one purpose in mind:

I have no idea what kind of mushroom this is.

Within seconds of observing this:

we observed this:

There was a bit of a breeze all afternoon, but it was not cold. Well, by comparison with other days that is. A heatwave was going on elsewhere in the UK.

Because we were only six in total, including the two guides, Sue W asked if she might bring her dog, Loki, along. She was very well-behaved and had fun.

This is bog cotton, I think.

Thus ended a gentle afternoon’s entertainment, and the day was rounded off with a yet another good dinner.

Postscript. In two earlier posts, I featured WWII pillboxes. I have since discovered this BBC article from 2015 about the defences along the Moray Firth, and this longer booklet by the Forestry Commission Scotland which explains that they were built because of fears of a German invasion from Norway, which of course never came.

Grantown-on-Spey 4

Tags

common sandpiper, Findhorn Valley, little grebe, Loch Farr, Loch Ruthven, mallard, Meadow pipit, oystercatcher, Raven, red deer, ring ouzel, RSPB, Slavonia, Slavonian grebe, Strathdearn

Sunday, 2nd June. The verdict as to what I should so on my final full day was unanimous: ‘Strathdearn’, they said, which is also known as the Findhorn Valley.

Findhorn Bridge

Through which can be seen a railway and a major road bridge

I made several stops along the valley As I got back in the car the first time, ‘Henry’ and ‘Clara’, out for a walk, asked me was I looking for waders. I replied I was looking for anything, in a very amateurish way. The waders were all over the fields they said.

I succeeded in seeing nothing for a while, except some colourful cows,

evidence that sheep had once inhabited this field,

some actual sheep,

and some oystercatchers too far away to get a decent picture. I liked the colours in this newish wall round a farmhouse.

And then it started raining. Many years ago, when I was working in Whitehall on public housing subsidies, it had been alleged to me that it rained sideways in Scotland. Here’s the proof.

With wind like this, no wonder it does.

It calmed down, and I came to a little layby. ‘Jack’ and ‘Jock’ were there with telescopes and heavy rainwear. Of course I pulled in. Birdwatchers always compare notes, though I had nothing to offer. The hope was to see a golden eagle. I stayed just a short while, which they clearly did not think was very professional of me, but I was keen to reach the car park at the end of the road for lunchtime, and I was now only halfway along.

I had stopped at a broad bank and had been watching the first oystercatcher making desultory nest-building moves, before the second came along and appeared to tell her there was no point. ‘Marie’ and ‘Hamish’, who said they were keepers (self-appointed or not, I was not sure) came along in a Landrover, and said they were concerned that a pair of dippers had been disturbed ‘just under that bridge’ in their nest-building recently. They seemed satisfied that I was not guilty and after some pleasantries drove on in the direction I had come from.

I continued on my way, and just before the car parking area, I encountered this meadow pipit, with caterpillar.

This was my view as I sat in the car starting to eat my lunch. I was really, really hoping to see a golden eagle or some other raptor.

Then I stopped chewing, because I could see two tiny protuberances at the top of the mountain. With my binoculars I saw this.

Then this.

Then this.

Then this!

I was spellbound.

In due course ‘Jack’ and ‘Jock’ came along, and asked me if I had seen the ravens. (As it was ‘Jock’ who asked me, I had to ask three times what he was asking, his accent was so strong.) The ravens were way up on a hillside behind me. I had been so mesmerised by the red deer (and nice and warm in the car as I ate) that I had not yet turned round to see them, on a far horizon.

I learned that ‘Jack’ and ‘Jock’ came up to the Highlands from Dunfermline and Airdrie as often as they could to look for birds.

All of a sudden ‘Jack’ got very excited. ‘I don’t believe it!’. He had just been idly looking through his telescope, and there was … a ring ouzel. I had never seen one in my life, and I had previously met people who had travelled many miles unsuccessfully to see one. It is a mountain relative of the blackbird, and has a white bib. I was invited to to look at it through their telescope. I then tried to find it with my camera, in vain. So I took some general pictures of the gully, hoping I might pick the bird out on screen later.

Here’s one of the photos.

And yes, the bird is there. Yes it is. Here is a tiny segment of the main photo, enormously enlarged.

And here’s a tiny segment of another photo.

Clearly there is a blackbird with a white bib.

I was chuffed! Thank you ‘Jack’ and ‘Jock’. I’d never have seen either it or, probably, the ravens had you not been there. But that’s the birdwatching world (of which I do not count myself part). They love sharing their sightings.

Another car came along, but I was moving on. I had more plans. Again using the map and information provided by the hotel, I was making for RSPB reserve Loch Ruthven. But not before this common gull had greeted me beside my car.

And I had zoomed in on this ruin back along the Findhorn Valley.

There was what turned out to be a very narrow one-track road over some moorland to get to the reserve. The sun was coming out, and it made this ‘blasted heath’ a little more attractive.

(I don’t usually manage to take a 360 degree video at all steadily, but this time used the car as a leaning post.)

The road was only 7 miles long, but it took a while to travel it. There was a delightful small loch at the end of it, Loch Farr. But I stopped only long enough to take a picture of it, as I had a few more miles more to do.

This was the view as I parked the car at RSPB Loch Ruthven.

And these a couple of views as I walked along the path to the hide.

THE bird to see there is the rare Slavonian grebe. Half the UK’s breeding population is found at this loch. (I know, there are countries called Slovakia and Slovenia, but no Slavonia. I don’t know why the grebe is so-called! … Ah, I do now. Spellcheck didn’t underline the word, so I thought I’d better look it up. Slavonia is a region in Croatia. So now I know. Well, I still don’t know how the bird got its name. In the US it’s called the Horned grebe.)

Anyway, I didn’t see any. Neither did ‘Janet’ and ‘John’, who were already in the hide, and didn’t say hello. They left after after ‘Janet’ said to ‘John’, ‘Shall we give up?’ I was happy just to sit there and see

a female mallard and duckling,

several little grebes, aka dabchicks,

two common sandpipers,

and various other birds of which I didn’t get decent photos, and to enjoy this abstract.

As I left, ‘Nick’ came in. We exchanged shy smiles and as I made my way back along the pretty path I found my self thinking, ‘I’m sure I’ve met him before. Is he on the telly, or is he in in the Somerset Wildlife Trust?’ I didn’t work it out.

Half a day left. What shall I do tomorrow?

Return to Aigas 8

Tags

Aigas, Arctic skua, eider, Gairloch, Golden eagle, greenfinch, grey wagtail, Loch Ewe, Meadow pipit, oblong-leaved sundew, primrose, red deer, red-breasted merganser, roe deer, Round-leaved sundew, sea eagle, sedge warbler, Slavonian grebe, Strathconon

The two final days at Aigas in one post.  Accounting for Thursday will very be short. We drove over to the West Coast of Scotland, to the Loch Ewe and Gairloch areas, returning by way of Loch Maree.  Here are a couple of views we saw on the way there, and a very short video.

From these it can be seen that the weather was not exactly ideal, and I have already indicated that I was not well-equipped with bad weather gear.   Having had our lunch we walked along the seashore for a while, in a howling gale, hoping to see sea eagles.

The sea and the grass show how windy it was, and I chickened out again, being absolutely frozen, and made my way back to the bus.

It was quite a time before my colleagues returned and I hoped they were having luck with the eagles.  They weren’t, but they did see a ‘bonxie’, an Arctic skua, which was a plus.

On the way back to Aigas, we had two unexpected sightings at the same place.  The stop was for reasons of nature other than wildlife, and we weren’t expecting to see anything special, but to our surprise we saw there a large group of eider duck, and a red-breasted merganser, swimming on the sea.

This is only part of the group of eider

Red-breasted merganser

And it was a treat to see a greenfinch, that increasing rarity in our gardens because of a rapidly spreading disease.

Friday was our last day, and was spent along Strathconon.  A pleasant morning:

Roe deer

Meadow pipit

Meadow pipit with insect

Red deer

An after-lunch stroll:

Round-leaved sundew. Each trap is no more than a centimetre across

Primroses -in June!

There are both round-leaved and oblong-leaved sundew here

Grey wagtail

The very same making photos easier

But the best was yet to come.   I wasn’t able to get pictures of an osprey perched in a tree, because sadly someone had not understood the instruction to keep within the outline of the bus when we got out, so it was spooked and flew off.  But I had been able 30 minutes earlier to get a few pictures of – at last – two golden eagles!  Sadly, in terms of wildlife the fact that we saw two of them flying around was not a good thing, because it meant there were no chicks on the nest to be looked after by one parent. But it was a thrill for us.

View from a bridge…

… which was really a hydro-electric barrage

The afternoon’s sightings were completed much nearer our base by some Slavonian grebes and a sedge warbler.

Sedge warbler

 

A last drive back to Aigas through the Highlands

Up very early on the Saturday morning for the 8.55 flight from Inverness to Bristol.  What will be the next photographic experience I post here?  At present I have no idea!

Return to Aigas 2

Tags

Aigas, Aigas Field Centre, bronze age huts, Eurasian Beaver, Golden eagle, house martin, iron age fort, John LIster-Kaye, Magnus House, Magnus Magnusson, Meadow pipit, pine marten, Round-leaved sundew, wild cat, wild cat breeding programme

I forgot to say – because I had no photo to remind me – that we had this morning a few seconds’ glimpse of a juvenile golden eagle.  Quite a thrill, if all too brief as it disappeared into the cloud at the top of the mountain.

This afternoon we spent being introduced to the immediate territory that goes with Aigas House.  First of all we had a briefing from seasonal ranger Ben at the front of the house, during which we were entertained by the industrious and fearless house martin parents who were feeding young just over the doorway.

Then we walked up to the Magnus House, the educational space named after, and opened just after the death of, Magnus Magnusson, a good friend of naturalist Sir John Lister-Kaye, who, with his wife, Lucy, and his son, Warwick, runs the Aigas Field Centre.  On the way, we noticed, not for the first or the last time, that in Inverness-shire, in mid-June, the bluebells were still in flower.

Boris

Inside we found Boris, the male beaver, who, with his mate Lily, successfully bred for several years as part of an experimental reintroduction scheme. (Pending governmental decision, this scheme is now in abeyance.)  Several of the offspring have been dispersed elsewhere, but Lily and some of her cubs are still seen occasionally on Aigas Loch, which we next visited.

We saw several signs of beaver activity, including the building of accommodation more to their taste than the artificial lodge which was first provided for them.

One of my favourite photos from the whole week

Round-leaved sundew, insectivorous plant

I think this was a meadow pipit

Yes, I know you see chaffinches everywhere

When three-quarters of the way round the loch, we diverted upwards to some heathland, to the location of some bronze age huts.  We had no time to go even further upward to the site of an iron age fort.

There was broom and/or gorse nearly everywhere we went

On the way down we were told a little about the wild cat breeding programme of which the Centre is part.  In due course, in a few more generations, it is hoped that some kittens may be reintroduced into the wild, well away from where any domestic cat can be found, in order to ensure the purity of the genetic stock.

Apart from the two people who look after the cats, no-one is allowed to visit the cats. so that they do not become habituated to humans. They must remain truly wild.  Frustrating to be so near and not see, but at the same time a privilege even to be near the project.