Christine's walking & birds blog

On the calmer water at Badentarbat seven divers were keeping close company; but these were black-throated divers, in various stages of plumage. They were also my first of the year.




There were no geese at Ardmair, but a dozen or so grey geese were seen on the fields that slope down from the road at Morefield.

The weather today was infuriating, though no different from the last few days. One moment the sky is forbiddingly dark and the raining is teeming down, so you decide to stay in and do something useful like hoover the house. The next moment the clouds have rolled away and the sky is blue; so you rush around to get ready to go out and by the time you open the front door the sleet is pelting down again.

A shrub in the garden is simultaneously leafing and flowering; I think it could be a King Edward VII flowering currant (Ribes sanguine) - although by bending down so that neighbours opposite wouldn't think I was snapping their houses, I've managed to make it look like something from Day of the Triffids.


But at least it illustrates my point; the sun might be out now, but one mass of rain had just passed over to the east - and there was a lot more to come.

But not really close as there was still quite a bit of field and a road between us. However they did eventually make their way down to the fence, although the view then was often obstructed.




It's half-term, so there were a few people on the beach. A cold and windy walk to the spit brought three ringed plovers and five turnstones.



Back in Ullapool there were plenty of gulls around the harbour but all had black wing-tips. It seems like an age since the ivory gull was here, while the glaucous is just a distant memory.


The picture below was taken at Ardmair on 21st December. Two gulls had been half-heartedly fighting over this dead fish, which one then dropped on the road. I've been trying to find out what it was, and yesterday I came across a photo of one by chance on the internet.


I'm pretty sure it's a lumpsucker fish (Cyclopterus lumpus). I had no luck searching for it on fishing web-sites because it's a deep-water species and apparently anglers don't often catch or even see one. It's of interest to Greger and me because we sometimes buy little jars of black roe - an affordable alternative to the "real" caviar of sturgeon - which are the eggs of the lumpsucker. It's so named because of the suckers on its belly, with which it can anchor itself to rocks.

A nice Irish lady walking on her own was the only other person on the hill; and the birds were non-existent, although we did hear a chaffinch singing. Driving back northwards I spotted twelve to fifteen barnacle geese in one of the small fields between the road and the sea, and Greger kindly stopped in a passing place to let me grab a shot. There's hardly any parking along this single-track road.


The three great northern divers were at Achnahaird yesterday. The two at the top of the picture seemed to be an item while the third appeared to be trying to muscle in with some displaying and a bit of rusty wailing; but the two weren't having any of it and sailed serenely away together to the far side of the bay.


On Thursday, the beach at Poolewe was quiet while Inverewe Gardens in the background looked neat and tidy and ready for the summer season.


As we sat in the lay-by having lunch, a rather mournful-looking cat was very interested in making Greger's acquaintance, standing on its hind legs and peering in through the car window.


Two flighty, calling curlews and a pair of preening mergansers were the best of the birds; and two distant Slavonian grebes were seen in Gruinard Bay on the way home.

Back in Ullapool there was nothing in the harbour so I drove round the high road to look down on the spit. A bunch of greylag geese on the empty camp-site made me stop and scan from the car - and sure enough, the two bean geese were also there.



Just beyond them a drake goosander was diving close in but I failed to get it in any of the shots. We spent the afternoon clearing out the office, which has become a complete tip.

Further along the road we stopped at the end of Loch Glascarnoch, where an artist was standing with his easel set up, painting. He must have been frozen. On the far side of the loch were seven whooper swans. They generally seem to prefer Loch Droma - but that was completely iced over.


Red deer have been driven down by the snow to graze and browse where they can, often near the road. They can be difficult to see against the brown-and-white moorland until you're close to them; and one was lying dead on the verge.

The geese split up, some flying inland, some settling on the sea. Four turnstones (legs as orange as those of the bean geese) foraged amongst the rocks, almost unseen, and ringed plovers buzzed about calling. Several curlews flew onto the spit, and there was some nice calling from them as well. A pair of goosanders snorkelled out beyond the rocks, a drake merganser went flying past them, and a bunch of juvenile and/or female Eider sailed across Loch Kanaird. Also in the bay were two little grebes, and a black guillemot in summer plumage - so I probably did see one in the harbour a few days ago. As I left I could see that the greylags and the bean geese had returned to the sheep-fields. Now that we've turned what I call the corner of the year I feel that I'm getting the better of my low spirits at last and can look forward to spring.

Also foraging in these fields were fieldfares, redwings, song thrushes, a few (probable) meadow pipits, and a male stonechat. A drake goosander was snorkelling along the edge of the sea, followed by two females. It was now very cold so I didn't hang around for long; and at home Greger lit a fire in the stove in the lounge, so we can turn down the central heating and still feel cosy.

I'm pretty sure these are bean geese, and given the bill patterns (one bird had a narrower orange band than the other) I would say they are the rossicus, or tundra race.

Driving home I pulled into the recycling road, where loads of red deer were loafing on the moorland below. As I emerged again, a buzzard remained on a pine sapling long enough for me to snap it from the car.


I got the newspaper and drove home, where Greger had made a good start on the appendix and had also had a work-out.

It was a fabulous sight in the sunshine as it flew high above the loch and circled over Morefield before swooping down into the Rhidorroch Estate, where I lost it.


A small bird with pale peachy underparts alighted in front of me on the beach - just one of the regular stonechats overwintering in a cold climate.


This seems to be a cormorant - rarer than shags here.


Also present on the beach were oystercatchers, turnstones, and ringed plovers, with about thirty wigeon on the water and a pair of goosanders further out on the sea. As I walked back to the road, a sort of 'tsyoo' call made me think of the ivory gull - but it was a reed bunting. And on the river was my first Ullapool dipper.

There was hardly any wind and I longed to stay out, but it wasn't possible. In any case as we settled down to work again the sun disappeared and there was a snow storm. A few days ago, a song thrush was singing from a garden on Shore Street.