Christine's walking & birds blog

There was a tantalising report on highlandbirds.scot of a great grey shrike at Scourie, at 1.30pm on 22nd June - tantalising because we were there at that time. A specific location wasn't given, but I regret now not bothering to scan the fields when we first arrived. We parked as usual by the cemetery and walked out on the headland, sitting for a while looking out over the sea towards Handa Island.

On a chance walk years ago while on holiday, we discovered that both breeding skua species regularly patrol this headland - and so we've visited every summer since for our Arctic skua fix.


21st June

The pinkish sac-like object was under the surface and quite a bit out from the rocks at Rhue lighthouse, seeming to move with some kind of purpose rather than just drifting with the current. I snapped a couple of pictures, but it wasn't until much later that I managed to identify it.



I'm fairly sure it's a comb jelly - probably Beroe cucumis. The darker lines are rows of hair-like filaments which beat in waves to propel the animal through the water; and at one end is a large mouth (not visible in my shots). It's a pelagic species and carnivorous, feeding on plankton and other comb jellies.

Mount Keen

This is the most easterly of the Munros (height 939m) and one of the most popular. The start at Invermark had a leafy, farmed, prosperous feel to it, contrasting sharply with the bare moorland aspect of our hill-walks in the north-west.



A spotted flycatcher in the bright morning sunshine was a good beginning for the day's bird list.


Following the Water of Mark through the trees, we encountered two guinea fowl on the shady bank; and then the view ahead opened up, the far side of the river showing the change from green pastures to moorland and crags. From somewhere on the sloping parkland came the call of a cuckoo, while a pair of buzzards soared overhead.


This track would lead practically all the way to the top! It's actually the Mounth Road, a right-of-way leading past Mount Keen just below its summit dome and through to Glen Tanar or to Ballater. On the right-hand side, just beyond the nearer hill, can be seen a distant small cone; I think this is the false summit of Mount Keen rather than the real one which is hidden behind, but anyway, that's where we're headed.


Near the house called Glenmark on the map, ring ouzels foraged on sheep-grazed turf for insects to feed their young; or had a quick preen on the tumbled wall.



As we began to climb the steep path high above the Ladder Burn, a small pearl-bordered fritillary went dancing over the bracken, eventually settling in an awkward position low down and worth recording as it was our first fritillary on a hill-walk.


A golden-ringed dragonfly perched a bit further off, green tiger beetles fluttered along the path, and a solitary black ant was seen among rocks - looking larger than black garden ants. A small heath butterfly landed on the path and a lovely tawny moth that tantalisingly careered away out of sight was probably either an oak or northern eggar (a caterpillar of one of these species was seen on the way down). Sacks of game-bird feed at the side of the track were a reminder that here in the Angus glens you are in the middle of serious grouse-shooting country (something you don't encounter much in our neck of the woods). Two red grouse made us jump as they suddenly started up in the thick heather and then ran away; perhaps they're so used to people, they don't bother to fly.

The track became increasingly rough towards the top, making it unwise to walk and bird-watch at the same time, with large sharp stones to trip you up and gritty, eroded stuff to make you slip. There were many mountain bikers around, and one fell off as he negotiated a flight of stone steps on his way down. Fortunately he was okay, and greeted us cheerfully if a bit sheepishly as we passed. But a bit later another biker walking his bike down asked us if we had first-aid training - and held up his little finger, which was bent out of shape and swollen. We felt sorry for him, but I'm not really sure what someone with training in first aid could have done.

Having plodded hopefully up to what looked like the top, we realised it was a false summit and that the real one was still a stiff pull away. Typical! But soon we could actually see the trig point. Yippee!


And then after a warm, sunny (if breezy) morning, we were greeted by a terrific wind from the south-west. Greger looks as though he's wearing a heavily quilted jacket, but it's just his cagoule getting ballooned out by the wind. (Trig point FB no. S7047)


I didn't bother to zip mine up, and it flapped up and over my head, the wind catching it like a sail and nearly knocking me off the top. Meanwhile, Greger's rather manky old baseball cap (which he'd worn to shade him from the hot sun we'd been promised) flew clean off his head and down into the midst of three cheerful Scotsmen having their lunch in the stone shelter just below the trig point. We made our way back down past them and Greger retrieved his cap amid much hilarity; and then we hunkered down out of the wind and had our own lunch. Other walkers - some with dogs - had now reached the top, and it was becoming quite busy. As I looked down the path to see yet more walkers arriving, several mountain hares went running across it. I managed a poor shot when one went back, loping down the eastern flank of the hill.


There was no point lingering on the top with such a strong wind, and we set off back down the path. Bit by bit it would become less windy and we were able to strip off a layer or two.


But before that happened we met quite a few walkers on the way up, including a number of young women in shorts and T-shirts who looked alarmingly tanned and toned - just the sort of thing you need to see when you're feeling your age, your joints are creaky, and you're wearing your daft woolly hat with the bobble on because it was blooming freezing at the top!

Way over on Carlochy, on a terrace just above the river, Greger spotted a whooper swan.



The ring ouzels were still hunting in the grass and bracken.


One of the juveniles:


We took a well-marked short-cut through the heather to visit the Queen's Well - not that I'm much interested in anything to do with queens, past or present. But I liked the idea of a well; and a plaque on the wall informs you that Queen Victoria and Albert refreshed themselves with a drink here in 1861.


Either they were less fussy then, or things have deteriorated since - because the water in the well was slimy and green, and definitely "non-potable".

The bird list reached 22 species with curlews, common sandpipers, and oystercatchers being of note. On the 15-mile drive back to the main road, I caught a glimpse of a redstart flying up from the ground. Shame I couldn't get that on the hill list! Still, can't complain: and as Greger drove us home I spotted, near Slochd summit on the A9, another ring ouzel on the verge, just feet away from speeding traffic. Making up for last year when I saw hardly any ring ouzels - and none at all on a hill-walk.

A late-afternoon walk - in suddenly quite warm sunshine - brought several small heath butterflies, fluttering about on waste ground above the lower quarry.


My first fritillary of the year - probably a small pearl-bordered - was also on the wing.


The fritillary was wary and I couldn't get a decent shot of the underwing; but it was as good to see this butterfly as it was to see that the wild thyme was beginning to bloom.

Heading for the village to shop and vote, we walked along the river path; and on the edge of the football field, birder Andy Williams waved us over and said he'd just seen a hawfinch in one of the cherry trees!

We had a quick scan but couldn't relocate it, but I returned in the afternoon and got lucky. A chunky bird went swooping low from one tree to another and I was able to see where it landed, in the boardwalk corner of the sports field.

I drove round the single-track roads hoping to see snipe. Years ago when we walked the Rubha Coigeach headland, I wrote of snipe shooting up from the verges; but there was nothing today. Two birds running ahead on the road turned out to be golden plover; I had to wait in a passing place anyway so clicked off a shot from the car.


Also on the road was a juvenile wheatear.


Half a dozen dunlin were with ringed plovers on the cliffs.


Two terns were on rocks at Achnahaird; common presumably, although the one on the left seems to have put the wrong legs on.


Other birds seen: willow warblers singing in several places, sand martins swooping round an old overgrown loch-side house, a reed bunting, and a stonechat. Only one cuckoo was heard - I reckon their numbers are down this year.

It's ten thirty and a beautiful evening - still fairly light, and with a nearly-full moon high in the southern sky. I wish I had the energy to go out looking for roding woodcocks. I wish...I wish.....And tomorrow is voting day - in the weirdest, scariest general election I can remember. I don't think there'll be celebrating in this house, no matter who gets in. Everything's depressing.

A walk up the quarry road yesterday was disappointing - there were no butterflies that I could see although one dragonfly (golden ringed) was on the wing. There were no spotted flycatchers in the usual place, but a distant wheatear near the river was cheering; otherwise the interest centred on a long-tailed tit family and a displaying tree pipit.



A walk today between showers brought at least three spotted flycatchers.


And a grey wagtail.


Goldcrests were seen feeding young, and a common sandpiper flew away up the river.

Sgurr nan Clach Geala

Inspired by this view from our Sgurr Mor walk just over a week ago, we set out on an unpromising morning of grey skies and fitful showers to bag the second-highest (1093m) of the Fannaichs.


We approached this time from Loch a' Bhraoin near the Destitution Road; a stalkers' path (and right of way leading south to Lochluichart) gives rapid access - but neglects to address the problem of river crossings. Good job it's been so dry recently!


Eventually leaving the path to plod up the hillside, we heard a dry bark and looked up to see a deer watching us from above. We've never been barked at by a red deer before; and she kept it up all the time we were making our way past her. Other deer were grazing nearby, but they merely moved away as we approached.


I think this pink flower is moss campion.


It came on to rain quite heavily. I suggested putting our walk off to another day, but Greger said he was happy to go on now that we'd come so far. So we went on - and I would be thankful we did later, as the weather gradually improved and we had a great day.

After making our way across a great scoop comprised mostly of peat-hags, we reached the wide col with its lochan; and it was here that I heard a ring ouzel singing. But the only bird I could see was a distant ptarmigan.


And then a ring ouzel went flying past, disappearing over the lip of the huge Coire Mor. Well, we'd be skirting that, so we might see him again.

Looking over at Sgurr Mor, we were amazed to see how steep this flank of the mountain was. We knew about the steep drop on the eastern side because the cairn was built on the edge of it, but hadn't realised this side was pretty scary too. Fortunately the summit ridge is broader than it looks.


Meanwhile, the route to the summit of our present mountain looked fairly precipitous - given that the other flank was also pretty steep. It was, in fact, an interesting rocky path with a bit of easy scrambling, and a couple of dizzying views down narrow gullies to the river at the bottom.


And tantalisingly, from somewhere out on that vast slope came the simple but sweet song of the ring ouzel. I scanned every now and again as we walked up, but could see nothing. The clouds closed in again and there was a brief shower - and then I saw him, quite far ahead, but helpfully standing against the sky.


We climbed on, serenaded by the ouzel, and Greger drew ahead. He stopped and called out something that I couldn't hear - and then I realised that what I'd thought was a rock was actually the triangulation pillar - or what was left of it. He'd reached the top!


This poor old unloved pillar still had its flush bracket however, and the number was S9500. The actual summit is marked by a small cairn; this is looking back at the trig point as we were leaving.


We made our way out to a south-east prow (still hearing the ring ouzel) and then turned down a steep slope to the col, when the song was lost. Ahead is Sgurr nan Each - another Munro. We'd already decided against bagging it too, as we were fairly tired and had a long walk-out (back through the valley to the right). But doesn't it look tempting!


Steep, and in places boggy, slopes led down to the stalkers' path; and then it was just a case of putting one foot in front of the other until we were back at the car. We still hadn't seen dotterel - but the ring ouzel had been a very welcome sight, singing a song entirely for his own purposes and only incidentally entertaining us.