Christine's walking & birds blog

At least fifty redshanks came flying in off the sea and up the river at Achnahaird yesterday; the first I knew of them was a lovely chorus of liquid piping - like their usual flight call but a bit muted, a bit more melancholy.


They swept round and back - perhaps because they saw me standing there - and landed among oystercatchers, while eighteen to twenty redshanks already on site but closer to me, flew over and joined them.

Later that night Greger watched the Bond movie "Spectre" again - prompting me to point out for the umpteenth time how unlikely it was for a black-throated or great northern diver to be calling from a lake in Austria in the dead of winter (or perhaps ever!). He was probably relieved when I left him to it and retired, sitting in bed reading until 1 am.

Opening the bedroom window for some fresh air, I was amazed to hear again the far-off calling of redshanks.  Was I hearing an echo from earlier in the day? There could easily be redshanks on the river spit (they turn up there in small numbers during migration), but surely the calls wouldn't carry up into the village?

I went out and stood on the back step, and found that the partially cloudy sky was full of their sound. It came and went, and I wondered if they were migrating. But then the calling became louder again, and I caught sight of the movement of a flock coming towards me - perhaps numbering up to twenty - the waders showing their white underparts as they turned back towards the loch.

The redshanks entered our air-space, so I'll count them as a garden tick. I held the camera up and recorded; there was no picture of course but the sound was picked up - just. It was so special to stand there in the dark night and listen to these birds flying around, mostly unseen, their soft but urgent calls like a constant chattering among friends.

A walk late afternoon round the spit and out along the golf-course turned up no redshanks; so whatever they were up to last night, they're gone today.