Christine's walking & birds blog

Up on West Terrace, I sheltered from the ferocious wind behind the car to take a few shots of the gulls down by the camp-site, and discovered that starfish is clearly on the menu. I'm not sure if the ghostly white winger in the picture was a glaucous or Iceland gull - but later it also caught a starfish.


We had earlier failed to see any white-wingers at Ardmair - but there were loads of gulls over by the fish-farm and it was impossible to use the telescope. In any case, I always think it's too far away to bother. After a walk along the beach we got back up onto the causeway and nearly got blown into the road by a terrific gust of wind.

A white-winger was at Ardmair this afternoon. From the smaller size and shorter bill in comparison with the glaucous, I would say it was an Iceland gull. The flight was also light and buoyant, not so ponderous as the glauc.



Then I realised there were two.


They were feeding in exactly the same way as the gulls in town yesterday, hanging on the wind above where the sea was pounding the beach, and plunging to take morsels of food from the breaking waves. The only difference was that the other gulls were herring or great black-backed, whereas yesterday there were common and black-headed among them. I sat on a wet boulder to take the pictures, with Greger shielding me from the wind.

Again, we tried to walk a bit, but were defeated in the end by the wind. We didn't mind; we went home to leftover turkey dinner with the trimmings, which was lovely. We'd eaten the original dinner on the 23rd December, so this year we've moved back one more day. At this rate, we'll eventually be able to have our Christmas dinner at Easter and get rid of Christmas altogether.

A glaucous was one of many gulls hovering over the waves near the Loch Broom camp-site.



Whatever it had found on the waterline was clearly worth a soaking.


Earlier we'd driven to Ardmair and tried to walk along the beach, but the wind made it impossible. Amid much shrieking (well, that was me) and laughter, we gave up after a few minutes and staggered back to the car. The ferry, which had remained here all yesterday, left for Stornaway this morning - so let's hope everyone trying to get home to the Western Isles for Christmas made it.

Two bramblings have been visiting the garden today.


We called off a planned walk because of extremely strong winds and rain. Yesterday we did the same, but took a drive instead out into the Coigach area. Two whooper swans were dwarfed by distance and the sheer scale of loch- and landscape.



Four stonechats were seen, one pair and two single birds.


A female merlin flew across the road in front of the car, disappearing behind buildings and away across the bleak moors. At Achnahaird I spent ages taking 165 pictures of two distant "eagles" - only to be forced to admit, as they came closer, that they were, in fact, buzzards.

But there was no mistaking the huge, short-tailed raptor flying swiftly towards Ben Mor Coigach.


Greger was looking through the bins and he confirmed a white tail, so this was an adult sea eagle and probably one of the pair that raised two chicks somewhere in the area this summer - a thrilling event widely known and written about, so I think I can mention it.

On another day of poor visibility, it was often difficult to pick out the solitary brambling among all the chaffinches (20+). The birds are wary, and as the garden is at the front of the house they are frequently disturbed, streaming up into the surrounding trees at the least provocation while I scan frantically for a white rump.


I seem to be in a constant state of rage these days. For a start, the days are so short that it's hardly worthwhile going out; it's almost 3.30 and more or less dark. Secondly, I've come to hate Christmas, and I'm glad when it's all over and we can look forward to spring. I stopped sending cards last year, and hoped people would get the message. There isn't anyone I want a Christmas card from.

More importantly, I've come to a decision about a bird seen during a walk up Cul Mor in early October.


The pipit was foraging around a lochan at about 660m. Although at the time (again, in poor visibility) I assumed it was a meadow pipit, the pictures seem to tell a different story. But I failed to find any literature that suggested it could, at this altitude and distance from the sea, be a rock pipit.

On the other hand, how many birdie experts go walking in the hills? And if they don't, how do they know rock pipits don't hang about around upland pools? I'm flaming-well putting this down as a rock pipit, and it's going on the hillwalking list.

In very poor light and through the window yesterday, a treecreeper was almost overlooked as it crept along the wall, exploring the crevices between the stones.


It found something pink - possibly an earthworm, as this low wall holds back the soil underneath the lawn.

And then at last I saw what I'd been watching out for, after a fleeting glimpse of orange early on - a brambling, picking about with chaffinches beneath the feeders.


In slightly better light today the brambling came into the garden several times, but stayed tucked in behind the wall where most of the dropped seeds ended up.