Christine's walking & birds blog

One turnstone was present, and a great skua was sitting out on the water. Three shelduck were my first ever at Ardmair; they are near the bottom of the picture, almost lost against the cliffs of Loch Kanaird, below the great snow-chequered wall of Ben Mor Coigach.


Three wheatears were on the beach with pied wagtails, meadow pipits, and twite. Two paler birds gave me another Ardmair first; down south, of course, I would often see linnets and long for twite - but now, being used to twite, it was quite nice to see a pair of linnets.

A great skua flew strongly over, too fast for me to get the camera on it. Something reddish went bounding along among the stones, and I just got a shot in landscape mode through the car window before it was out of sight; but we could follow the stoat's progress because of the gulls mobbing it.


Perhaps it was heading for a seal carcase further along the shore. That's the sort of thing an ivory gull would like, but the ivory is long gone.

Three of four mergansers - seemingly two pairs.


There was constant aggro, with the males alternately displaying and quarrelling. Two great northern divers, a pair of red-throated divers, several wheatears, and many stonechats were other birds of note; and a dozen or so golden plovers that went down in a distant field looked fabulous in breeding plumage.

On the quarry road at least six willow warblers and a chiffchaff were singing; a handful of lesser redpolls flew around displaying, and a single swallow swooped over the hillside. Far out on the river spit there were two greenshanks.

Sunday April 19th

Moruisg

For our first hill-walk of the year we decided on two mountains in Glen Carron, one a Munro and the other a former Munro but now demoted. There was only one way up Moruisg from the lay-by; over the footbridge, under the railway, through the gate in the deer fence and then bashing straight up the boggy, often very steep flank right into the bright morning sun. This made watching out for birds very difficult. To gain the summit plateau, we were aiming for the wedge of land between the two converging gullies; the photo was taken on our descent.


We made heavy weather of it, discovering that we are not yet quite hill-fit; although a cold and irritating wind made things worse. But as ever on a fine day, the views were worth it. Between Greger and the cairn can be seen the two Torridon giants of Liathach and Beinn Eighe.


The plateau wound on eastwards, dipping and rising and enticing me onwards, to wander in the sunshine and hunt for plovers and ouzels; but there was no time and in any case, I was knackered.


I had to be content with a dozen or so meadow pipits foraging on the edge of a patch of snow.


We walked south-west along the summit ridge, and on reaching the higher summit cairn looked longingly across at Sgurr nan Ceannaichan. I'd grizzled a bit during the ascent and Greger had been uncharacteristically tetchy on the top when he couldn't find a good rock to sit on for lunch; so what with all the whinging plus the fact we were really tired, we decided to leave the second hill for another day.


Shame, because although it's lost its 3,000 ft status, it certainly looked a more interesting hill than the boggy lump we were on.


Birds were scarce. A greenshank was heard, possibly flying over. Making our way down we had a brief glimpse of a merlin as it came out from the ridge; down by the railway there was a wary male wheatear, and just as we reached the final gate a sand martin flew over.

On the way home I asked Greger to pull into a lay-by when I saw two Canada geese on a lochan. This is a species I wouldn't look twice at down south but I think these are my first in Scotland. On the near side of the spit of land are two greenshanks.




On Saturday, I paused in my walk along a forest track to see what was wriggling in this puddle. It contained about 100 tadpoles.



A bit further along a similar puddle contained no tadpoles, just a single newt.


The water was so clear the camera was able to focus. I think this is a female palmate newt, but not sure. I just hope no forestry vehicles drive along the track in the next week or so.

There was no willow warbler singing along the river path today, but redwings were still feeding on ivy berries - which I described yesterday as "hidden" and which today, I could see perfectly well.


Sand martins were still bombing about, this time low over the river and the loch. A greenshank (my first here) was on the spit with turnstones, oystercatchers, and ringed plovers.


A redshank was also present.


A stunning wheatear was on the grass along West Shore Street with meadow pipits, and a black guillemot was out on the loch. I had a quick look at the harbour and then walked to the far end of Shore Street, intending to walk up the main road and home. Looking back before I turned the corner, I saw a white-winged gull flying round the end of the quay; it looked too small for the glaucous and the possibility of its being an Iceland gull sent me all the way back.


The gull kept disappearing behind a fishing boat, but when in view it seemed to be lighter and quicker in flight than the glaucous. Then it landed on the water and after dodging construction traffic and disobeying warning notices, I finally got a good if brief look, and a couple of pictures.


I never thought I would become so interested in gulls, but here they just seem to land in your lap.

While Greger painted the hall this morning I did housework, and after lunch I ventured out for a walk despite the rain. At the end of our road, a chiffchaff was singing; and along the river paths I heard and then saw a willow warbler. A dozen or so redwings were plundering ivy for hidden berries. Shortly after this, four or five sand martins kept me entertained for some time as they swooped and dived around the tops of greening larches on the edge of the sports field.

As I walked out along the spit the rain got worse, but I was able to see wigeon, mergansers, and ringed plovers. I walked back towards the town along the shore, seeing oystercatchers, meadow pipits, and skylarks both on the camp-site grass and on the stony beach. A wheatear was also present. At least twenty-three turnstones were huddled together at the edge of the waves.

I walked round to the harbour to see what gulls were about and watched, puzzled, as a dark bird came flying strongly towards the quay across the water. I risked the bins in the rain and realised that it was a great skua. Like the tiny martins, the skua held me enthralled as it flew restlessly around the harbour (in that respect, it reminded me of the ivory gull).


And then look who turned up.


But any thoughts of a shot containing both the skua and the glaucous gull vanished as the ferry slid away from its dock and the skua, seemingly, went with it. Besides, it was coming on to rain harder, the camera battery was low, and I had been out for long enough.

We agreed that today was too dull, cold, and windy for hill-walking so we went for a drive and some lay-by birding instead. A year ago tomorrow I saw my first wheatear at Ardmair; so we stopped there on the way north and had our spirits lifted by this bright individual, one of at least two on the beach. Hooray! Lots of meadow pipits and skylarks were around as well.


An osprey was spotted drifting and hovering over a loch, and we were able to pull off the road to watch it. Unfortunately it was already flying away from us, and eventually we lost it. A magical encounter with an elegant bird.


Two pairs of black-throated divers were seen on separate road-side lochs, and two greenshanks were seen on two separate road-site lochs - one of these a breeding site from last year.

The wheatear and the osprey were lovely, but I'm not going to say spring has arrived, because it blooming-well hasn't. The wind is bitingly cold, and it's also a bit depressing to hear that England is about to have a heatwave. A repeat of last summer?

We walked the National Trust for Scotland's pine trail, which was undulating and pleasant. But as we came down to the road, dark clouds rolled in again, there were terrific gusts of wind, and we hurried back to the car park with sleet and hail battering us from the sea. Greger was worried I would be blown into the road but I managed to stay upright; and I was worried that his legs were completely soaked as he didn't have waterproof trousers on. We went into the bird hide to wait out the rest of it - although the worst was actually over.


A few minutes later we were in Inverewe Gardens, with a blue sky above us.


And here we heard a distinct "chiff-chaff" and then caught a brief glimpse of the warbler - our first chiffie of the year.

The frogspawn has changed again. I thought the long brown shapes were dead leaves or seeds, then noticed that one or two were twitching; these are tiny tadpoles.


Many of them will be eaten by the newts, which are stealthily going about their own business of breeding among the rocks and weeds, but always close to the frogspawn.

There might be common newts in the ditch, but the ones I saw today were almost certainly palmate newts. The webbed hind foot should be diagnostic of the male palmate in the breeding season, but it's not always easy to see; however the filament at the end of the tail is also diagnostic, and that's clearly present here.


The palmate hind foot is more marked in the picture below; that would make these two both male, so I'm not sure what's going on here.


As I walked back to the car a golden eagle came flying over the hill on a steady course to the east.


I mentioned before that the golden is more wary than the white-tailed, and tends to veer away from an observer on the ground; but this one wasn't and didn't. I obviously talk a load of rubbish.

Other things noted: while watching a pair of black-throated divers on a road-side loch, I noticed a toad crossing at its leisure. The road wasn't very busy today and it made it to the other side. On a second road-side loch there was a single black-throat, a bunch of goldeneye, a pair of mallards, a pair of oystercatchers, a pair of little grebes in a small patch of reeds, and a greenshank. It was the warmest day so far, and I didn't wear a hat; but now I have a sore throat. "Ne'er cast a clout till May be out" indeed.

As we're now layabouts (i.e. retired) we went for another walk, up Ullapool Hill and out towards Loch Achall. It was again sunny and bright, but I wore my hat for the first half of our walk (Greger wore his yesterday - there's still a cold wind).

A sudden rapid movement in the heather proved to be two common lizards. One froze and I was able to get a shot. I didn't notice at the time but the pic seems to show, in the bottom left-hand corner, that the tail comes to a stumpy end, with just a tiny bit of new growth protruding. The lizard has obviously had a close encounter of some kind.


Meadow pipits were singing and displaying everywhere; but the longed-for first true summer migrant failed to show. I think it's reckoned that spring comes to the far north two weeks after it's reached the south of England.

Meanwhile we are upside-down again; my desk and old computer have been put in the garage, and Greger has painted the office. We'll order a bed from Ikea and the office will become the spare room - although it will still have to accommodate Greger's desk and computer. In June, his brother and wife will be coming to visit. I'm sad that my family won't be visiting. I got some things off my chest (which anyone is entitled to do) but did this at a time when people were ill, undergoing operations, dealing with marriage breakup.... But I have to be honest and say I don't think they would have come anyway. I'm not a person that people visit.

The day started fine and sunny and we drove to Achnahaird to do the 8.5 kilometre walk round the headland via Garvie beach. A stonechat was a bit too far away for a photo so he became part of the view across the river and the saltmarsh.


After lunch a strongish wind sprung up, and we spotted a white-winged gull flying west along the cliffs on the far side of the bay.


We approached a cove where seals had been hauled out on the rocks last time we did the walk, barely giving us a glance; but this time they panicked and slid into the water - all except for this moulting seal.

As we traversed a heathery hill that sloped to low rocky cliffs and the sea, a faint croak was heard on the landward side of the path; and a female red grouse scuttled away from us, keeping low to the ground. The male checked us out before following her up the slope, and I grabbed a poor shot; but maybe it was looking into the sun that seems to have given extra brilliance to his combs.


Walking back along the road we saw some toadspawn in a pool and a red-throated diver on one of the lochans. Before heading for home, Greger kindly drove across to Badentarbat so that I could look for the white-winger - and sure enough, there was the glaucous, looking huge and snowy among the other gulls. They took off at my approach; he was the last to go and even then, he just circled low and then went down again slightly further along the beach.


It's always nice to see the glaucous, although I think today he was upstaged by the grouse's eyebrows.

Later, lunching at Alturlie Point, we saw wigeon, teal, redshanks, and a dozen scaup. A great string of pink-foots came over the fields, flying towards the Moray Firth; watching them move steadily across the sky and hearing their high, yelling calls was magical. If we're not seeing any summer migrants yet at least we can still enjoy the winter birds.

Today I returned and got an even briefer glimpse of just one. Frogs were croaking everywhere, and on one loch-side I heard an even louder croak which I was sure must be a bird; however, I tracked it down to two toads, which slipped under the water as I approached. I saw a bank vole disappear into a hole, and a large V of geese went over to the west giving nasal calls, too high for me to ID. I saw my first butterfly of the year.

Any birders up on Cul Mor late afternoon might have spotted the black-throated diver flying past. Wish I'd been up there - I'd rather see birds from a hill than from a lay-by.


Descending into Ullapool I stopped to take a photo of the "haar" (sea mist). The ghostly boat is the first visiting cruise-ship of the season (the Marco Polo).


The mist lay along the loch and out to sea. Greger, going for an exercise walk up Ullapool Hill, rose above it and enjoyed sunshine, as I had for much of the day. It's nearly 11 pm and the mist has now crept into the town and blotted out the stars.

Eagles are sometimes not easy. I saw this one soaring at a distance and we drove for a while before pulling off the road. The eagle then flew towards us, which made it more difficult (for me, anyway) to get a decent photo.


I was in no doubt it was a white-tailed eagle - until Greger said he thought it could be a golden. Was the tail really short? Or was it long? However, I think it's a sea eagle. In my (admittedly limited) experience, golden eagles are more wary. White-tailed eagles don't care about anyone or anything. If they set off to fly a certain line they will blooming-well fly that line.

Anyway, it was wonderful to see it soaring and then flying past us, very high in that lovely blue sky; we watched until it was out of sight - which didn't take long as it wasn't hanging about.

We clambered up to a cairn we hadn't seen before, from where we heard the thin, fretful piping of a golden plover. A meadow pipit was going up in display and then parachuting down, singing.


We had some bright sunshine today although the temperatures were low; and the loch water was sparkling and glittering around a pair of black-throated divers.


Barnacle geese were again present in the fields of Altandhu; and there was still a greenshank, frolicking in the waves on Badentarbat beach.