Christine's walking & birds blog

Eight Slavonian grebes were hanging around together, way out on Little Loch Broom. They were in a line, with two briefly facing one another in a vertical position - though whether this was fighting or courting, I don't know. Gradually they broke up and a few of them came closer, diving frequently.


However, one grebe suddenly launched itself across the surface of the water and caught a sand eel, which presumably had been swimming in the shallows.



Earlier, we had seen three Slavonian grebes on Loch Ewe as we walked round Inverewe garden - where a singing goldcrest was one of few woodland birds in evidence.

This is a lesser redpoll, seen on the feeders today.


Yesterday, a bird that seemed greyer in appearance and with a whitish "shawl" was also in the garden - more often on the ground than on the feeders. It could be a candidate for common or mealy - or it could just be a pale lesser.



A bird can seem quite different when it fluffs its feathers out or when the light changes; and I know that redpolls are a bit of a minefield anyway.

At least the feeling that one looked slightly different has made me observe them more closely than I usually do.

The Formula One season has begun, so I left Greger in peace and drove out into Coigach again. The scoter was still offshore at Badentarbat beach, and in between showers I got better views. It's a very messy bird plumage-wise, and there seems to be some yellow on the bill - but the general colour and pattern suggest a female common scoter.


The scoter took off and flew low over the water like a kind of marine grouse, going down with a splash a bit further out.

On the opposite side of the headland, a walk in yet more showers brought my first meadow pipit of the year, at least sixteen skylarks, and no Lapland bunting. Back at the car park I took a last look at Achnahaird bay before getting into the car - and noticed a grebe on the water. It looked a bit big for a Slavonian, and in fact it turned out to be a red-necked grebe.




A summer plumaged black guillemot was seen far out, and a couple of razorbills were closer in (not too close, I hope - many seabirds have died on the east coast apparently).


As for the grebe; it came towards me as I stood in full view on the cliffs, and continued to dive, so I didn't think it was particularly wary. I made the mistake of trying to get just a bit closer - and when I looked again, it had gone. I don't like disturbing birds and I probably disturbed this one. However, there was a plane droning about at the time, and maybe it was spooked by the noise. Maybe.

Trying to get to sleep early this morning, I was enticed out of bed by the calling of a tawny owl. I opened the back door to find a sky full of bright stars and a half moon, spreading its glow low in the west. The owl was very close - probably in the grounds of the nursing home - but I couldn't see it. A meteor streaked earthwards and I waited a few minutes in case there were any more; but it was too cold, so I closed the door and went back to bed.

A walrus first seen on Orkney has since moved to the north coast of Scotland; and the plan was to drive up there today and look for it. But I didn't feel well, so we went out onto the Coigach peninsula instead.

The Lapland bunting or longspur was still at Achnahaird on the same patch of wet ground, although it flew up onto the rabbit-warrened dunes as we walked past. A rock pipit was again present close by.


At Badentarbat we thought that a dark duck diving far out was a common scoter, but what with the strong wind, choppiness of the water, and looking into the sun, we weren't sure.


Old Dornie could only offer a curlew and a pair of shelduck; and driving back across the moorland, I could see no frog- or toad-spawn in any of the road-side pools.

The thermometer might well have shot up to 10°C (the Met Office forecast was spot on!) but we're paying for milder temperatures with wind and rain!

Looking back to my nice adventure on Monday, here's a pic of the bunting showing the hind claw on its right foot - giving the bird its other name of Lapland longspur.


The great black-backed gull on the beach at Badentarbat was having quite a struggle to swallow a fish. Research points to this being a gurnard, which has a large bony head and defensive spines on its body - not the easiest thing to get down, I imagine.


The gull walked around with the fish for some time, took it back into the water, brought it out and dropped it on the sand, then tried again. Success!


At Old Dornie six golden plovers were on the sloping fields with a mistle thrush, oblivious to the fire crackling across the hillside above them.


I wasn't sure whether it was a wildfire or muirburn; but a man coming up from a boat in the harbour confirmed that the crofter had set it. He clearly disapproved but I was non-committal, not having an opinion one way or the other as I didn't know much about it - although I thought it likely that some wildlife would be injured or killed. (Later, 2021: I've since read and learnt a lot more about muirburn and I'm now against it.)

A crisp cold day with blue skies and sunshine called me out to Achnahaird in a not-very-hopeful quest for my first wheatear of the year. Walking out across the clifftops to the sand dunes, I flushed two snipe from a ditch; and in the fields behind the houses I saw curlews, golden plovers, and lapwings.

On a muddy drainage line down towards the saltmarsh, where a couple of rock pipits and a pied wagtail were feeding, a bird ran ahead of me which had me stumped. To begin with I could only see it from the back, but then caught a glimpse of its face and knew it was a bunting.


I leaned against a sand bank and clicked off some shots looking into the sun. All the birds took off at one point, flew over me, and then came back; and among the sharp calls of the pipits, a hard trill rang out. This was exciting; I hadn't heard this call before, and I knew it wasn't a reed bunting. One of the pipits then chased the bird. It flew up into the dunes where it sat for a couple of minutes in full view - my first ever Lapland bunting.

The temperature hardly got above 3°C today, but the wind chill was savage - much like the rest of the UK, seemingly. However, the day was often bright and sunny and we had no snow. Our first gannet of the year was seen near Second Coast.


A flock of 120+ barnacle geese were on the sloping fields at Mungasdale; they took off for no discernible reason, flew around a couple of times, and landed back in exactly the same spot.

On the road rising out of Mungasdale I looked back and spotted some golden plover in an awkward place. Greger pulled over onto a narrow grassy verge, and I snapped a few shots into the sun. Can't resist golden plover.


Driving back above Little Loch Broom, we slowed at the sight of a rounded dark blob on the road ahead, which was a species of snipe. It stood up, hesitated for a few seconds, then scurried into the undergrowth before I could do anything sensible with the camera. And despite several seconds with it in full view, I still can't say whether it was a common or a jack snipe - although I lean towards the former.

On a dull day with icy easterlies, a red-throated diver was close in to shore at Ardmair; and I sat in the car watching it for half an hour. Now and then it dived for food, but mostly it dabbled.

We looked in vain for wintering water birds on Loch Ewe - but did get our first guillemot of the year, which came very close to shore.


It paddled about snorkelling in the shallows for a while, and then headed back out of the bay. The whooper swan that was here looking rather lethargic on our last visit, had already been seen just outside Poolewe, on a small roadside pool which has water lilies in the summer, and rhododendrons on an island. Goodness knows how it landed there - or how it will take off again.

On the way back, a ringtail harrier was seen hunting over fields near Laide.


Another pic shows that the raptor had five distinct "fingers", confirming it as a hen harrier - although I'm not sure if it's likely to be anything else at this time of year. A cloudy day with temperatures reaching a heady 7°C, but offset by an icy wind that didn't invite you to explore the great outdoors except from the warmth and comfort of a car.

Four white-wingers were around the river mouth this afternoon.


These three....


.....and this one, which I'd also snapped a couple of days ago.


These Iceland gulls presented a variety of plumages reflecting their ages, although the only one I can be sure about is the 1st winter bird.




The gulls all lifted off lazily when two dogs ran down onto the spit. The dogs weren't chasing them and they didn't bother me, so I'm not complaining, just stating a fact! I had a quick scan of the island where the promising pools were before, but the water has already drained away. There were some nice muddy patches, but no snipe - or anything, else, come to that. Up on West Terrace, I looked back over the area - and realised that all four white-wingers were on the golf-course spit.


They're among mostly common gulls here - while a couple of immature great black-backs and a black-headed gull (far left) are a reminder of the great range of sizes covered by the gull family. This was brought home even more at the harbour, where I was snapping an Iceland gull when a great black-backed strolled into the picture.



The Viking gull was also present. Wondering if the Iceland at the harbour was an additional one, I raced back to West Terrace and scanned the spit. Nope - only three white-wingers there now, so today's tally of Iceland gulls remained at four.

Hanging out washing this morning, I was amazed to see these crocuses. They had emerged and just begun to open before the snow arrived, and when it did, I thought that would be the end of them. They're a bit battered, but it was lovely to see them fully open in the sunshine.


The only other flowers I've seen so far this year were the snowdrops on our neighbour's lawn back in February.

A grassy island with a couple of pools of melted snow in the middle of the Ullapool River, held a snipe this morning - I know because I heard and then saw it fly away (the call something like a nasal "fnch", lacking the open "e" sound of the snipe species I saw recently). Two stonechats were present, and one was wasting energy chasing a reed bunting.

The thaw seems to have begun, but the road north was still closed; so we walked round the village instead. I've never been hesitant about going for a walk alone before, but after the shenanigans yesterday I was pleased when Greger said he'd come with me.

In the harbour, a heron standing just below Shore Street opposite the pontoon was attracting a lot of hysterical attention from gulls and corvids. Along the west shore there were at least seven stonechats. They were difficult to see against the seaweed and also very flighty; I could get only two in the frame together.

A wren was seen, flying along just above the snow and foraging in clumps of grass.

On an island in the river, I scanned an interesting pool in the grass for waders, but could see only stonechats! There were four or five, although whether these were additional to the ones already seen, I couldn't say. At least three redwings were also present.

At home, Greger had scattered some dried meal-worms on the lawn; anything on the ground unfortunately draws gulls and corvids, and I spent some of the afternoon repeatedly chasing them away. Herring gulls were discouraged from nesting on our neighbour's roof last summer, and I don't want to give them a reason to come back.


Yesterday we had two wood pigeons (fairly uncommon here) under the feeders - and they seemed big enough, compared with the more usual collared doves; but the gulls looked gigantic.

Near the top of Ullapool Hill, something like a snow cornice has developed.


I pointed it out to Greger and he said he hoped there wouldn't be an avalanche, as we'd be in its path. :o)

The back-yard this morning:


Greger went out with an enormous snow-shovel and cleared not only our driveway but our next-door neighbour's too. The road north from Ullapool up to Ledmore Junction has been closed since yesterday morning, with fresh falls of snow and drifting causing problems. I settled for a walk round the village. A couple of white-wingers were around the harbour; although I think this might be a Viking gull (glaucous x herring gull).


While this is probably an Iceland gull.



Dragging myself away, I walked round the point and onto the camp-site. Walking was difficult here in fairly deep snow, and I was thankful that I'd put on an old pair of après-ski boots of Greger's (now too small for him). As I rested by a fence, a skylark flew onto the snow a little way off and then ran towards me to investigate a patch of grass that was just showing.



The skylark seemed to grasp the blades of grass in its bill and slide along them until finding something on them - tiny insects or larvae perhaps. I thought I might as well take pictures as not while it was so close - but I refuse to use the words "tame" or "confiding". These birds are desperate, and in their need to avoid starvation will overlook the close presence of a human being as the lesser of two evils - though I don't suppose they put it quite like that. Anyway, I had to put my gloves on eventually, and the skylark flew back onto the beach.

Further along, I was looking back at a row of trees when a small bird flew up into one of them. I couldn't quite make it out - and before I could get a picture, a second small bird chased it and then landed on a stalk, where I snapped a hasty pic of what was probably a stonechat.

And then my birdwatching was interrupted and my walk spoilt by the approach of two women with two small dogs - the latter intent on me from the moment they spotted me and then running, barking furiously, towards me. One wore a muzzle, and I recognised it from a couple of days ago when we encountered it on the same walk. Greger told it to shut up on that occasion, and although the woman said "Sorry" in passing, it was in that infuriating way some dog owners have, as if you're going to smile and be in on the joke "Oh, isn't he a naughty boy!" type of thing - while having no intention of correcting the animal.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, I went out of my way to avoid the dogs while they persisted in barking and growling round my ankles until the woman grudgingly walked over and herded them away - and I learned the important fact that the muzzled dog was a Romanian rescue dog.

WTF?!  What's a Romanian rescue dog when it's at home? Haven't we got enough blooming dogs in this country already, without going and rescuing them from abroad?

An eagle flew over - right into the sun. Eventually I picked it up again high over the ridge on the far side of the loch. Possibly golden, but I'm not sure. 


In the end I missed out the spit and the river path and cut my walk short, taking the ramp up to the road instead. Following the road round, I saw the woman and her two dogs below, still on the spit, talking to a couple of men with a mob of border collies. No-one spoilt her walk. Bitch.

I made my way home with murder in my heart.