Christine's walking & birds blog

On this calm, windless evening after a day of intermittent drizzle, we walked out after dinner and made our way along the river to the spit; and as we did so, a haunting sound drifted over from the loch. I've heard a great northern diver's call several times, but this was the best yet - clear and full. We hurried to the other side of the spit but alas the diver didn't call again. It was intent on preening, evidently, contorting itself into odd shapes, standing up and flapping its wings, and several times scooting fast through the water as if to take off - only to sink back onto the water again.


A handful of small scurrying figures on the tip of the spit turned out to be dunlin - not sure if there were two or three.




It's such a joy to see these birds on our local walks as I'm now beginning to realise with a sinking heart that I'll probably not get to drive out to Achnahaird this spring in time to see any migrating waders. My car has stood outside unused for six weeks - but how much longer will I be obedient? How can we ever know it's okay to go out? The answer is, we can't. At some point we have to take the plunge - and I don't believe we can be expected to watch a whole summer go by.