Christine's walking & birds blog

A male black grouse went flying down the hill as I set off up through the plantation, early(ish) morning.


Several redpolls were flying around, and although this one had nice white underparts it's probably "just" a lesser redpoll.



A high-pitched "kikikiki" alerted me to a small falcon flying over, fast and to the north; I'm fairly sure this was a merlin - and as usual, it wasn't hanging around.


A snipe was chipping unseen from the rough grass on the slope above, and higher than that, beyond the trees, a red grouse called twice and then fell silent. I've now heard loads of red grouse, and I can't say I've ever heard a call that sounds anything like "Go back" - often mentioned by other observers. Maybe it's just me.

Siskins, coal tits, goldcrests, meadow pipits, and wheatears were all seen in the plantation - and there were at least seven singing willow warblers.

An odd sort of day started with wagtails, foraging with meadow pipits along the wrack on the edge of the beach below the dunes. What seemed an unusually bright bird to me at the time is more than likely a pied wagtail - I think the mantle is too dark grey for a white.



There were several wheatears around.



I'd been hoping to see whimbrel, and as I crossed back to the beach two went flying past while a third turned suddenly and landed close to me.


A few days ago I ate my lunch once again in the company of a great northern diver, moulting now into summer plumage. On that occasion it caught mostly crabs.

The tree sparrow was at Alness, one of several species making the lovely small wooded area a delight to walk through.


Chiffchaff, willow warbler, blackcap, and song thrush were singing; blue and coal tits were heard, a probable dunnock vanished into a thicket, a wren blasted out its song, and a pair of buzzards mewed overhead. Back out in the open, a wheatear was seen on the pebble bank; but we saw no terns.

Yesterday: The few pectoral sandpipers I've seen in the past were frequenting muddy, rutty areas and pools; I think that's why this one, feeding in the open on sandy sheep pasture with sparse grass cover, posed an ID problem! The wader was plunging its bill right into the sand, and three poor pictures show it once with a probable worm in its bill, and twice with segmented larvae - probably leatherjackets. Other foragers in the same area were meadow pipits, skylarks, and a wheatear.

It was a bright, mostly dry day, but much windier than I had bargained for. A pectoral sandpiper was a nice surprise in the fields behind the dunes at Achnahaird, although I wasn't certain of the ID until I got home and checked.



The salt-marsh held a large flock of ringed plovers and dunlin, five pink-footed geese, and two golden plover. My first common sandpiper of the year was on a loch-side on the drive out, and a cuckoo was heard but not seen. My eyes still feel gritty from the sand that blew into them - and the pectoral must have suffered too, as its eyes are closed in a couple of my pictures.

Beinn Liath Mhor a' Ghiubhais Li (for the third time)

It was a sunny but very windy day. Several wheatears were in the plantation, flying up into trees as we passed.


Toiling up the slope of grass and heather above the plantation, we flushed a red grouse.


The grouse flew around the hill, incorporating a bit of display flight as it did so. I could manage only a poor shot, but I'm posting it for a reason.

Our hill was clear, but snow patches lingered high on the Fannichs. Greger's mobile shot over my head reminds me that a hat was needed early on, as well as in the decidedly cool wind on the summit.


This is probably fir clubmoss - the second species of clubmoss I've found on this hill; but I'd never even heard of clubmosses until last November, so this is a tentative ID.


And this "plant" with its tiny red fruit, after much research on the internet, was revealed instead to be a lichen.



I'm fairly sure it's a Cladonia lichen, although I can't say which species - possibly cristatella. The much-branched pale stuff is another lichen, although it's generally known as reindeer moss. 

Reaching the summit, we walked across slowly, looking for ptarmigan; and then found a spot on the eastern side to have lunch. A very bright wheatear suddenly appeared a little way down the slope from us, and I switched on the camera. At the same time, Greger alerted me to a bird in flight, and I just caught sight of the white wings of a ptarmigan scudding past below before both it and the wheatear disappeared.

After lunch we walked along the ridge to the next cairn, but we saw no more birds; and it wasn't until we were leaving the main summit on our way back down that we spotted a ptarmigan. Because we were looking into the sun, and because she was so quiet and unobtrusive, we almost missed her.


It was fairly good underfoot today, after a long spell of dry weather; but peat hags still have to be negotiated, and Greger found a good route back through them.


Quite a few people were out walking, having parked wherever they could find a spot along the main road once the small car park was full (we're on the right, to the right of the camper van) but there was no-one else on our hill; plus, many Fannichers seem to avoid the plantation and follow the river instead, thus cutting out an unnecessary climb and descent. All in all, despite appearances, we had a nice quiet day!

Back in the plantation, we were sheltered from the wind and it was really hot. A wheatear flew ahead of us, then up into a tree, then down onto a stone.


Just after this I heard a harsh, almost hissing sound that was unfamiliar, and had just got onto something black out in the grass when it took off and flew towards a line of conifers - a male black grouse!


It's an even worse pic than the red grouse one, but I'm posting both as record shots because today for the first time we saw three species of grouse on a hill-walk. The black grouse was a nice surprise as I thought they'd deserted the area for summer quarters.

Sighing with relief as we passed through the gate and approached the road (nearly down!), we looked up to see a handful of martins. As we squinted up into the unbearably bright sky and debated what they were, one helped out by flying over us and almost stopping in mid-air. Clearly, sand martins - our first of the year.


There was one more wheatear by the stream and I was tempted to get the camera out again, but I was too tired. Driving home we spotted an osprey fishing in Loch Droma, and from a lay-by we saw it catch a decent-sized fish and fly to the far bank. A nice end to a really good day.

It was back to the headland walk today, which I did the other way round; this gave me a new species for the walk, as a cormorant was seen on little Loch Garvie. I'd meant to go to the spot where we had coffee and cake yesterday, and where I snapped the shag; but there was no sign of the binocular case so I climbed up to the big stile where I watched some pigeons zooming around the cliffs and wondered if they were genuine rock doves.

My plan had been to then return to the car and drive to the junction lay-by, following the path from the start to where we'd had lunch; but it was such a lovely day (despite a strong wind) that I decided to do the whole walk again. A stonechat was a pleasing sight as we'd seen none yesterday.


The grey seals that were hauled out on the rocks were singing again today, their mournful calls sounding a wordless lament that's as haunting as the cries of the common loon (great northern diver in Britain). This was also heard - but only twice, and distantly. I watched a couple of the seals "porpoising" but failed to catch this action with the camera.

A flock of redpolls flying around chattering landed frustratingly far away, and then flew off and were seen no more.


The views on this walk are always distracting, but what caught my attention at this point was - my binocular case, hanging from twigs! So it hadn't fallen out of the netting when Greger took his rucksack off, it had been yanked out by the little tree - one of several on the walk which you have to really push past to get by; and you can't walk round them because the heather is too high and tangled. There are times when I hate heather!


Mission accomplished, I could now relax and birdwatch as much as I wished. This is one of three wheatears seen on the walk.


While eating lunch on a small headland, I heard the startled cluck of a red grouse in the same area where we'd seen one yesterday.  Looking round, I realised that a family was standing up on the path, and from what I could hear, they seemed to be French. They had binoculars and were probably looking at the seals, which could still be seen (although not heard) in the distance. They continued along the path and I hoped that when they got closer, the seals would sing for them.

Turning towards the beach at Achnahaird I spotted two black-throated divers below - new for the walk.


Again, there were two red-throats fishing.


And among the black guillemots in smart breeding plumage was one that still looked wintry - probably an immature getting its first sum-plum.


A pair of shelduck and a flushed snipe were the only birds I saw as I walked along beside the Allt Loch Raa. An Australian woman (the only other person apart from the family I saw on the walk) stood aside to let me pass; I thanked her and she said "No worries" - as she would, being Australian. Meanwhile the French family, who had come back and were ahead of me, took their shoes and socks off and waded across the river, the two small girls skipping and dancing through the water; it was nice to see girls enjoying being out of doors. They walked up the beach and across the salt marsh, and were last seen sitting on the grass near the road picnicking: Le déjeuner sur l'herbe.

There was no sign of the two greenshanks that had been present on the bend of the river yesterday, and I thought I might as well cut off that bit of the walk and climb straight up the slope to the road. Plodding back to the car, I couldn't see any frogspawn in the roadside pools - but from one, a small duck (probably a female teal) took off and flew towards the sea.

Driving back, I stopped to wind up the passenger window and heard a familiar faint, plaintive "peep" - and there, down the bank towards the loch, was a golden plover.


I'm ashamed to admit that on the drive out, I mistook a buzzard for an eagle; but there was no sign of the osprey today.

The shag was near Garvie Bay on the headland walk, on this lovely day when we heard several willow warblers singing.

 
Birds on the sea included great northern divers and a pair of red-throated divers.


The annoying thing was that we'd lost the soft case for my binoculars. It had somehow fallen out of the netting on Greger's rucksack - I'd kept the bins round my neck for the whole walk, so I didn't miss the case until we were back at the car. Still, there was compensation in an unexpected osprey, spotted as we drove out of Coigach.


A first for the year.

Two small birds hunched on the sand turned out to be a pair of twite - the first I've seen this year. The male gave a few bursts of song and then appeared to feed the female, and they flew off together.

 
The wheatear was singing from the wall of the sheep fold at Badentarbat.


Either this or a second male bird was seen further along the shore, keeping company with a female. When I realised he was carrying a long straw or stem in his bill I retreated - it hadn't occurred to me that they would already be nesting.


A female merlin was the only other bird of note, powering across the salt-marsh with purposeful speed and scattering meadow pipits and skylarks in all directions.

The black-throated divers were on a roadside loch, and I watched them from my car.




The diver's prey might be brown trout.

Puffing up the steep steps of the geology trail, I heard a faint sweet song on the wind. I looked up, and a dark bird flew a little way along the cliff with a familiar "chack", landing on a clump of heather on the skyline. A ring ouzel has arrived!


Later: An earlier ring ouzel was seen three days ago a bit north-west of this location, reported on the assyntwildlife site.

There was a question on University Challenge a couple of years back, along the lines of "What arrives in the south of Britain approximately two weeks earlier than in the north?" The answer was "Spring". Living in the otherwise glorious north, that difference becomes almost painfully apparent, as blogs and websites from the south of England begin reporting migrant birds and we wait impatiently for our own first glimpse of summer visitors (apart from those in camper vans).

Wheatears remain my only definite summer migrants so far; and today my tally was seven, all male birds. This is one of three at Badentarbat, where singing was heard (just) through the blustery cold wind and a great deal of chasing was going on.


Two were near Altandhu, a bit above the Reiff junction; one was at Old Dornie, and the seventh was at Ardmair on the way home.

However, golden plover are on the move - and six were on the salt-marsh; I almost walked right into their midst, and only stopped short when a quick movement ahead caught my eye. The birds tensed and moved closer together. Slowly and carefully I made my way round them so that I could sit on a large boulder and (hopefully) reduce camera shake; the birds seemed content with this and resumed their foraging.

Greger needed to pick up some new bathroom units in Inverness, and suggested a visit to Udale Bay. A green-winged teal was easily spotted with its white vertical mark - but along with with the other teal, it was some distance away. I believe it's been there for a couple of weeks.



Two dunlin and a lesser black-backed gull were firsts for the year, and a smart male reed bunting called from a tree next to the lay-by.