Christine's walking & birds blog

Carn na Còinnich

We returned to Strathconon after calling off a walk in November last year, and this time we succeeded in getting to the top of this hill - at 673m, one of the Grahams. Having parked by the gate to the private road, we hoisted our rucksacks onto our backs - me with my camera looped on my belt for a quick draw - and then had to take it all off again in order to get through the very narrow walkers' gate that had thoughtfully been provided next to the vehicle gate. Greger passed most of our stuff over the top of the vehicle gate, although he managed to squeeze his rucksack through the other one. We didn't half moan - but more of that later. A singing willow warbler cheered us up.


A stony track led steeply up onto the brown moorland, where several meadow pipits flitted about, and a wheatear stood watching us from a rock.


A cuckoo called from the valley but we never spotted it; and a raven was seen cruising above a distant ridge. A red grouse went clucking across the heather. Finally we needed to leave the track and strike off across the rough stuff. Greger as usual found a way that avoided the peat hags, and soon we were on the ridge and crossing an area that looked good for dotterel, although maybe not extensive enough - or high enough - for breeding. And there at last was the summit.


As we toiled up, we spared a thought for the men who put the trig points in place, having to carry all the equipment and materials for making the concrete pillars - not to mention the theodolites they would hold - and then doing their surveying to map the country more accurately than it had ever been done before. Quite incredible.


We ate lunch at the top and took loads of photos. Greger took this one with his new Canon, looking north-west.


I took one with my camera, although a strange demented (cemented?) man in a Tilly hat somehow got into it.


There was a good view of the Fannichs - this one, over Loch an Daimh Ghlais, by Greger. In the right foreground  can be seen a faint ATV track which leads almost to the summit of our hill; these vehicles get everywhere they shouldn't - but we weren't above making use of this fact later on!


The views were wide-ranging and included some of the Torridon hills. This is a zoomed-in view of the Beinn Liath Mhòr (Strathcarron) ridge that we traversed last year, with Sgorr nan Lochan Uaine to the right.


Beyond Strathconon, Little Wyvis and Ben Wyvis seemed quite close.


Looking east over the dam on the Orrin Reservoir we could make out the Kessock Bridge, carrying the A9 south between the Beauly and Moray Firths and past the city of Inverness.


Even more distant was a dimly-seen line of snow-streaked mountains that we took to be the Cairngorms.

But it was getting cold on the top, and we set off down following the ATV track, which eventually turned down the hillside and brought us back to the stony track a bit further down than where we'd left it on the way up. Back at last in the valley, I heard a familiar song and eventually located the singer - a yellowhammer, and a first for my Scottish hillwalking list.



Greger had walked ahead, and so missed this, a heron, and a great tit - although he did spot a pair of mallards that I failed to see. As I approached the car, he walked up to the big vehicle gate - and then simply unlatched it and swung it open. If we'd noticed that it wasn't locked at the start of the walk, we could have saved ourselves the extra work and all that moaning!

The tide was low at Achnahaird, giving me a vast expanse of sand to walk across on a lovely day only marginally spoiled by a persistent cold wind.


Into the bay came flying a large loose flock of mixed gulls - but mostly kittiwake. They settled on the sea in long lines, but too distant for passable pictures. Twite have been missing for some time so it was good to see a flock of at least twenty on the machair, foraging among shells with three or four linnets.



A lone sand martin was spotted, careering off into the distance; and a cuckoo, heard calling from the house at Badentarbat, suddenly materialised and flew alongside the car as I drove up onto the moors, crossing the road in front of me and vanishing behind a hill.

The wide open spaces made a nice contrast to our recent day in the beechwoods of the south - although here in Dorney Wood, Bucks we also had the place to ourselves, except for a man with two small dogs at the beginning of the path and a couple crossing from the Beeches at the end.


It was lovely to be there again, although I was shocked by the absence of the stand of conifers in the north-east corner. I wonder why they took them away?

The drumming of a lesser spotted woodpecker was first heard in the distance, and we walked towards it using the ancient trees of Burnham Beeches for cover. Eventually I spotted the probable drummer, high up, its head turned away from us.


Zooming in too fast, I failed to focus on the woodpecker and got a couple of poor record shots, but at least they show it was a female.



Greger got onto her just before she flew - and my grumpiness at my rubbish pics melted away when I saw his delight at finally seeing a lesser spot, even though it had been only a glimpse. I don't think she flew because of us - another bird had zoomed in towards her and then also disappeared. She might have been chased by a great spotted woodpecker as they were also around - in fact, I saw two of these mating. In Egypt Woods, lesser-spot drumming was again heard; and the squeaky advertising call was heard in all three woods.

In past years, I think I've missed out on these exciting vocals by ending my walks here in March -  partly because of the emerging leaves making it difficult to see the birds, and partly because of the emerging wood ants! We both got bitten when we stood still for too long - but it had been worth it.

In Egypt Wood, a pair of Mandarin ducks rose unhurriedly from the stream and flew off without panic through the trees. On our return to the car a crest heard singing earlier (when all I could actually see was a goldcrest) was heard again ; this time I was pretty sure it was firecrest song - and after a short wait we got a brief view of the bird when it emerged from hollies to forage low down in the undergrowth.


A ride around old haunts after our walk brought a little egret on White Brook, Widbrook Common - again, right by the road as we drove past.

By the next day, the mini heatwave was over. It had been wonderful in the sunny woods - and amazingly quiet - but our day out west on the downs, though sunny, was slightly spoiled by strong winds. We weren't sure if these were two different wheatears - or the same one.



In the woods a marsh tit was seen briefly high up in mature oaks.


We took a plant to St. Mary's, Hitcham, and found a new sign in the churchyard pointing out that only cut flowers and wreaths should be placed on graves. Other things will be removed. Well, if they remove my plant they remove it - not much I can do about it. You can't mess about with vases if you live a long way away.

I went through my usual hotchpotch of emotions as we set off north; but I did my share of the driving and gradually calmed down as the day wore on - until, high up near Slochd summit at dusk, a woodcock flew across the road in front of us and brought our short holiday (bird-wise) to a fitting end.

On this bright, breezy day we headed up a small hill we climbed last year - only this time, we were a couple of weeks earlier. This was taken with Greger's new camera, a Canon digital SLR.


It was fine enough to sit and enjoy a leisurely lunch at the top, which was useful as we needed the rest - at least, I did. I'm very unfit and fear that I might not get up the bigger hills this year. We'll see.

This place is wonderful, the bleak, wet moors stretching out towards mountains which still hold patches of snow after a long, hard winter.


A greenshank called in the distance, the sound faint and alluring on the strong gusty wind. On the way up we'd flushed a pair of golden plover - they took off, but didn't fly far. Meadow pipits and skylarks were present on the slopes, and a mistle thrush was foraging.

We continued on our traverse with the Fannaichs ahead, and a red grouse went whirring up the hillside behind us.


Back down on the path, we looked into a gorge only slightly less impressive than nearby Corrieshalloch - and much less frequented. The arched bridge above the waterfall is reached by a made-up path and must once have been a tourist attraction - but now a sign states that it's dangerous and shouldn't be used. Nevertheless, I found a video clip on the internet showing kayakers not only braving the waters in the gorge, but also crossing the bridge. Yikes! Partially framing the picture is one of a number of pine trees that make such a nice feature of this part of the walk.


Ravens were hereabouts, and a bit further downstream a pair of goosanders flew over. Dippers, a pied wagtail, and our first common sandpiper of the year were near the confluence of the two rivers. As we neared the road and the end of our walk, I looked back to see a small, square-tailed raptor crossing the wide valley and just disappearing behind the trees; so merlin almost but not quite made it onto the day's bird-list - along with a martin seen at the start of the walk which was probably sand but which I couldn't identify for sure.

The eagles were a kilometre away, soaring where buzzards and ravens are often seen.


At least one of them was a golden eagle.


Otherwise our walk up Ullapool Hill and back down the quarry road was fairly uneventful. In one of the puddles along the moorland path was some spawn and two frogs mating. A sudden commotion in the heather produced not a grouse, but a redwing. It didn't want to fly, but sat looking at us for a while before scurrying back into the undergrowth. A few meadow pipits were displaying, and a big loose flock of redpolls went over chattering. Late afternoon, the brambling was in the garden again.

At last - a wheatear! This one was at the road end in Old Dornie, perching on more or less picturesque piles of boat-related stuff by the slipway.


Two more were on the sheep fields on the far side of the harbour, and a further two were seen from the high lay-by overlooking Loch a' Chaoruinn, disputing possession of a large cairn. And the winner is.....


But a walk at Achnahaird brought no wheatears, although at least 30 recently-arrived meadow pipits were running over the turf with skylarks. A great northern diver, a guillemot, and a razorbill were in the bay. Redwings were a feature of the general area, with singles and small flocks seen in several places. Only one stonechat was spotted. The scoter was still at Badentarbat, on a mill-pond of a sea. Two male eider were there with one female, continuing the imbalance in sexes that I've noted each time I've seen eiders this spring. Still, that's often the way with ducks, I believe.

A blackcap joined the throng beneath the feeders, late afternoon on this grim, grey day.


Perhaps the bird is an over-winterer - seems a bit early for a summer migrant. The brambling also paid a visit, engaging in the odd tug-of-war over a sunflower heart with one of the many chaffinches. Only two redpolls were seen today - both definitely lesser.

A merlin dashed across the road near Brae of Achnahaird and swooped up onto the telegraph pole, giving me the chance of a distant shot from the car.


We spotted the razorbill from the low cliffs, washing about near rocks and out of reach.


On the other side of the headland another razorbill was seen diving and preening - but again, quite close in. Can't they find food in the deeper water?

We drove the usual round and then set off on the road out. As we approached the bridge over the outflow from Loch Osgaig, two red grouse erupted from behind the gorse on the left of the road; one bird carried on flying, over the road and out of sight, while the second bird landed and then ran back into the gorse. We stopped, and again, I was able to get a pic from the car as a male bird came out into the open.

  
The grouse took off and flapped and glided low over the winter-bleached moorland grass, dropping behind the curve of the land towards the sea.

A brambling visited the garden today - my first one this year and, in fact, this winter.


It's a cold rainy day so we stayed in and did some chores. It's just under 5°C here - at least 9 degrees colder than the south-east of England. And so it begins.....

My first frogspawn of the year (with two frogs still on site) was in a ditch by a forestry road. At least three newts were present, gliding around the mass of jelly as though they were its protectors - which, in a way, they are, as they will eventually eat the tadpoles.

I looked up from the slimy water in time to see a merlin flying across the valley.


Driving home, I was surprised to see a black-throated diver in a small bay of a roadside loch, just yards from the bank. There was no passing-place close by so I just stopped the car and clicked off some shots through the window. Unfortunately my car badly needs a wash so the glass is less than crystal-clear.


It was quite enthralling to be so close to it. I drove on to the next passing-place, stopped again, and looked back; it was still there in the bay. South of Ledmore Junction I spotted a white-tailed sea eagle flying west. At Ardmair, a family down by the water's edge were taking photos - but didn't seem to have noticed the red-throated diver just feet away.

I grabbed my camera and walked down towards them, but the diver was already making its way, fairly rapidly, along the beach. At the far end was another family, with the children throwing stones in the water. I gave up and watched as the diver sailed right past them - again, I think, unnoticed.


I trudged back to the car as the first drops of rain began to fall. Two groups of people had had the chance of eye-boggling views of a red-throated diver, and I, probably the only birder on the beach, couldn't get near it! Typical.

Snow fell yesterday, settling at first but soon disappearing except on higher ground; here it defines some of the buttresses and gullies of Ben Mor Coigach, dramatic backdrop to the now-open Ardmair campsite.


A rock pipit foraging in the wrack still showed the olive tones of winter plumage. That's not surprising, as it's still very much winter.


An Iceland gull in the harbour had a large feathery lump like a ball of cotton wool hanging down as it flew in. I couldn't see any blood, but it seemed to affect its left foot.


Back at home there was the usual feeding frenzy on the front lawn. Three glossy carrion crows were a new visitor; and I got one shot of a paler redpoll.


The redpoll at the bottom of the pic is clearly "colder" in colour than the lesser redpoll at the top. But is it cold enough, I wonder. It has white trousers, but I'm not sure if that's significant. The dark ear coverts talked of on one site I've looked at don't seem evident; and as for size, I haven't managed to get a shot of - or even see - the two birds close together to compare them. This bird, which is a different one again, was in the rowan tree.


All very interesting. Meanwhile, I think I'll stick to calling them just "redpolls" for the time being.