Christine's walking & birds blog

Back in Taplow, I went for a walk and found the pair of firecrests still feeding at least two young in the hollies near the top of Berry Hill, between the public footpath and the cricket ground. As well as singing from the male and the usual si-si noises, there was a harsh sound from one of the fledglings when the other one got too close. This was the last I would see of the Taplow firecrest family.

Scotland: 16th-23rd June

We stayed for the week in one of the white houses at Ardmair, a few miles north of Ullapool.

Our first hill-walk was Glas Bheinn ("glashvin") in Assynt. Greger looks over to Quinag, which we walked two years ago. With five tops linked by a fine rocky ridge Quinag was a long but fabulous outing.

The fine weather lasted all day, and we enjoyed a leisurely lunch by the summit cairn.

The only birds we saw were meadow pipits, common sandpipers and a distant raven.

We saw no ptarmigan but they are present in the area. These pictures were taken by Greger two years ago on Quinag, where we also saw a female with four small chicks.

The following day we drove south along the coast road. From high above Gruinard Bay we looked down to see five black-throated divers, close in under the cliff. We saw a little of their strange, group circle-swimming and diving before they broke up and drifted away. 

The following day we drove north to Ben Stack, the hill on which Labour politician and ex-minister Robin Cook collapsed and died. From some viewpoints it's the archetypal conical mountain, so despite its modest height the climb is quite a tough one.

This is looking south-east along Loch More.

The top of the hill is split by a landslip (The Corbetts & other Scottish Hills - edited by Rob Milne and Hamish Brown), with two rocky ribs enclosing a grassy trough. In my eagerness to reach the summit I forgot to watch for ptarmigan, but Greger heard a croak and called out just as four or five of them flew down the mountainside out of sight. Typical!

It's a curious summit altogether, with a shelter and triangulation pillar on the lower top, and the real top just past the solar-powered aerial. (No idea what that's for!)

The rocky crest beyond the summit cairn was the start of our route of descent. As we left the top, it began to drizzle.

A little way down the flank of the mountain we saw a splendid male ring ouzel, then the female and at least two young.

By now it was raining hard and occasionally thundering, and it got steadily worse as we descended. The 5-kilometre road walk along Loch Stack, which had promised a pleasant end to the day, was now a tedious wet slog. However, we saw a cuckoo and heard several willow warblers and at the reedy tip of the loch two greenshank chicks were being watchfully protected by hysterical parents. They calmed down once we had passed.

For our final day we took the ferry to Handa Island, which cost £10 each. It was worth it. The weather stayed fine, the cliff scenery was fantastic and we had great views of nesting seabirds.

Greger took this shot of Puffin Bay with his mobile and managed to get a great skua in it. A peregrine circled for a while then flew off towards the mainland.

We saw one pair of light-phase Arctic skuas, which spent most of their time chasing great skuas with their evocative "yarow! yarow!" cry. The dark-phase birds were more laid-back.

In fact, this individual standing right by the path is obviously a bit of a poser because a very similar photo appears on the birdguides website.

A brilliant week!

This is one of at least three fledglings which kept mostly high in the tree.

The constantly-singing male was so intent on food-gathering that he completely ignored me, alighting practically at my feet to forage on the ground. His worn and faded plumage illustrates the rigours of raising a family.

The female seemed brighter but was less bold, staying on the far side of the tree just outside the garden; and after a few hectic minutes they were all gone.

Hearing what I was sure was a firecrest singing, I rushed downstairs to see this male in the holly tree by the kitchen window.

On the second day Greger's brother brought the news that one pair of cranes had young. We could see them distantly on the fields, the two chicks yellow-brown and already well-grown.

We cycled round to the peat pools every day but never saw the swans again. On the larger pool were goldeneye, common gulls and a pair of teal with young. A pair of green sandpiper buzzed about and a snipe flew over. In the scrubby area round the pools were linnet and a pair of whinchat - the bright male making brief song-flights from a birch sapling.

One hot afternoon I cycled along the track and paused where the trees ended to scan the water on the left, neglecting to check the smaller pool to the right. There was a whooshing sound behind me and I turned to see a moose surging out of the muddy water where she had been enjoying a nice cool wallow.

The forest behind the farm has been good in winter for crested tit, and eventually I had a glimpse of two as they flitted across the track. Siskin were also here. In the bushes around two old barns were blackcap and garden warbler, and in an open area beyond - a pair of red-backed shrike.


Another part of the peat diggings has been converted into a golf course. As I accompanied Greger and his brother on a round I abandoned my caddying duties to identify a little ringed plover on the edge of one of the pools. Golf does have its uses!

Greger's niece's husband, Johan (a biologist, who reported quail and wryneck singing just outside their house though we were unlucky with these) took us on an early-morning visit to Vansjön, a nearby lake. We drove across a meadow towards a small copse with a reed-bed to one side. As we got out of the car, a cuckoo was calling and several snipe were flying around drumming.