Christine's walking & birds blog

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.