Christine's walking & birds blog

Greger had suggested another "pelagic" on the ferry - and we couldn't have had a more beautiful day for it. The calm sea gave lots of sightings of dolphins, to the delight of many on the very busy decks. At first, birds (apart from shags, gannets, and Bonxies) were harder to come by - and then, somewhere out on the Minch, we began to see rafts of auks - mostly guillemots, with just the odd razorbill. A tiny bird darting about just above the surface of the water was the first of several petrels - but we could never see them well enough to say which! Two distant dark spots on the water looked good for skuas, and having drastically cropped my highly optimistic photos I'll put them down as probable Arctic skuas. 

Again, it was an extremely quick turnaround - in fact when we reboarded, we found that another couple had simply stayed put. We bagged some seats and I ate my sandwiches; and when they announced the cafe was open, Greger went down to have some lunch. I've started to take sandwiches as I'm unwilling to miss even a minute up on deck, while Greger sees lunch on the boat as part of the day out - he reads the paper and even has a rare beer (he probably also needs a respite from my frantic and obsessive birding). Before he came back up, I spotted some divers; I think this is a juvenile black-throated. 

But it was Greger who, a bit later, alerted me and the couple-who-stayed-on-board to a Minke whale.

 

I was hoping for another sighting of a sooty shearwater - in fact, we saw four. We had them in view for only a short time as they were always ahead of us, and in order to get the pictures I had to stand at the top of the steps and lean out under the lifeboat. 

A skua rose from the water and I hurriedly snapped off a few pictures as it flew away from the ferry. Some things (bulky appearance, broad-based wings, white panel on upper-wing) suggest Pomarine, others (mostly head size) suggest Arctic. Dunno. More research needed.

As with our last trip, I spotted just one tern; looking across the boat, I'd noticed something white on one of the orange buoys - but buoy and bird were fast receding! I can't be sure, but I think it was probably a common tern; a faint white line might be the long tail streamers of an Arctic or just a streak on the water; but the legs seem a mite long for Arctic.

Other notes: two grey herons were flying in usual stately manner westwards in the middle of the Minch; there were loads of gannets and shags but I saw only one fulmar and one kittiwake. After a great day, we lazily ate fish-and-chips outside at the Seaforth, and back home we watched The Bourne Identity for the millionth time and then an episode of Tenko. I only ever saw the last series of Tenko, all those years ago, and have been searching in vain for the rest of it ever since. When Greger clicked on Britbox a week or so ago to look for something else, I was amazed to see that the BBC was proudly announcing a repeat of all three series. About time, too! I know it's a bit clunky but I love Tenko - and I've already caught up with the first two series and can now enjoy the third one again. Yippee!

After a lot of research, I'm wondering if our mystery bird on the pelagic two days ago was a Leach's storm petrel. It was clearly smaller than the shearwater, so petrel seems probable; but a storm petrel presumably would have had a more black-and-white appearance. This bird was brown; trouble is, we didn't notice a white rump - although poor visibility might have accounted for this. I showed Greger a picture of a darker Leach's and he thought that came closest to what he had seen. He crossed the boat soon afterwards and saw two more - but further out, and just as briefly. I had a look at highlandbirds.scot and found that on 10th August Leach's storm petrels had been seen from the ferry. I'm nowhere near certain, but at least the sighting has made me read up on Leach's and I'll be more prepared next time for how to spot them.

Today, the Coigach area was as popular as ever, but my usual walk took me away from the busiest parts. A lesser black-backed gull and an otter were all I saw on the river, while the salt-marsh produced six curlews - my first "returners".

As I watched them, a white-tailed sea eagle hove magnificently into view; it was an adult bird with a full crop, and I'm afraid my attentions probably made it change course, as it turned slightly away from me and flew across the beach, eventually vanishing somewhere towards Suilven.

Unfortunately we sometimes disturb birds simply by being interested in them.

Driving away, I pulled in as usual at the junction lay-by for a last scan of the channel, curving round the end of the salt-marsh. On the exposed sand, a small feeding group of dunlin and ringed plovers held something a little larger that I thought looked like a knot, so I walked back along the road and down past the rams' field to get a closer look. 

Well, at least I didn't disturb this bird; when I left the waders were still there, and not even the call of a redshank or the outline of a distant unidentified wader spotted in a last scan from the car could detain me. I'd been out long enough, and it was time to go home.

Greger snapped the view back into Loch Broom as we sailed out on the ferry, hoping that we would leave that atmospheric but dreary weather behind.

It got marginally brighter, but there was a brief shower before we reached Stornoway and there was always a cold breeze. At one point, we were almost the only people left on deck.


Other notes: we saw a few dolphins but no whales; there were loads of gannets - including one juvenile - and a few fulmars and kittiwakes; on the return journey, a chirruping sound alerted me to a pied wagtail flying over towards the front of the ferry - don't know what became of it; and in the distance we saw the Ievoli Black - my favourite vessel here, mostly, I think, on account of its name.

Gannets, bonxies, and red-throated divers were still very much in evidence at Ardmair; while a flock of twenty-two twite actively foraged on the spit.

It was an afternoon of drives and brief visits, and my next stop was moorland where I took a shortish walk, seeing a quantity of meadow pipits, a juvenile stonechat, and fourteen ravens. Returning to the car I caught a glimpse of two buzzards further along the road, which then disappeared behind crags. The sky there seemed full of large birds, including ravens, and I had a suspicion that one of them was a golden eagle. I drove on to a rough pull-in and was in time to see some of the action. (A kestrel was also present.)

It was clearly the buzzards' territory and they were intent on driving the eagle away. I suppose if this were a painting, it would be quite good - as it is, it's just a poor photo!

The eagle eventually gave up and escaped by soaring ever higher - growing fainter until it was finally lost to sight in the cloud.

On this windy, showery day I saw my first returning turnstone at Ardmair (although not really "returning" if it's a juvenile, which I think it is).....

.....and watched at least nine gannets fishing in the bay. 

I drove off when I saw a couple go down onto the beach with shopping bags and start to load them with pebbles. I get so angry when I see this but I'm not getting involved again. On three occasions I've protested about this activity; on two, I provoked angry responses and on none did I succeed in getting them to leave the pebbles. I've lost count of the people I've seen doing it. Ardmair used to have a beautiful beach, but it's gradually disappearing. 

Yesterday: We got up at six-thirty, intending to go up Ben Wyvis. A sore hip and stuffed sinuses told me I shouldn't attempt it; but, unwilling to give up the advantage of an early start, I suggested a trip up to Stoer. Even pre-Covid part of this drive could be a pain in the neck, along a single-track road more winding and undulating than the road to Achnahaird. Greger drove my car and, thanks to the early hour, we met very little traffic. The car park at the lighthouse was busy but not full, and we set off across the cliffs to Stoer Point. We love the huge skies and the sense of space here. This is looking over the point towards the islands of Handa to the right, and distant Am Balg to the left. 

Two or three climbers had just reached the top of the 60-metre Old Man of Stoer. I watched with a little bit of envy, tempered with realism. It must be exhilarating to stand on the top of that crazy sandstone pillar - but also slightly scary!

We walked up to the trig point, although we've been there before. The FB no. is S6097. It's a lovely location, with the sea on both sides and a freshwater loch in between.

We enjoyed our walk, but although we scanned and scanned with bins we saw no whales and very few birds. Perhaps one day soon we can actually get onto the ferry for a "pelagic" to Stornoway; we've tried twice but on both occasions the ferry was booked for several days ahead, and we didn't fancy taking a chance on the good weather continuing. Still, given the number of holidaymakers in Ullapool at the moment, I won't hold my breath.

Yesterday I spent most of the day indoors, cutting my hair and finding other odd jobs to do while cloud hung low on Ullapool hill and the high land across the loch - a small portion of which is visible from our place although we can't see the loch itself. Mid-afternoon, conditions improved and I made myself go out; Ardmair was as busy as usual but there was just space for me in the lay-by. Far out were a couple of fins - probably harbour porpoises.

The calm sea had tempted several paddle-boarders out; I wouldn't be able to even try this with my bad knee, and I felt rather envious that they were getting so close to the wildlife - even if it was mostly behind them! Here, a great skua was being curious about one paddle-board while a porpoise passed by in the background.

Yesterday in the Coigach area: a walk round the dunes and across the beach brought a handful of sanderling and dunlin with ringed plovers.

On the drive out, I parked by the second cattle grid and walked down to the loch. A golden-ringed dragonfly flew up from a boulder but settled again on another rock. I got gradually closer until I was sitting a few feet away; I couldn't see what she had caught, but in the lovely peace and quiet of the place I could hear the sound of her feeding. Her ovipositor is visible in the lower picture.

A Volucella plumata bee mimic was seen in the same place as last year.

The previous day, Ardmair was productive. An otter quite a way out was munching something held between its paws. As I watched it through the bins a familiar call came from my left - and there on the waterline was a redshank.

There had been a real downpour a little earlier, so I guess it had taken refuge on the open beach. A man in a canoe or kayak (I can never remember the difference) coming in to shore put the wader to flight, and it relocated to the spit - where I've seen redshanks once before. A common bird, but the sight of it really cheered me. Waders are on the move! Then two red-throated divers flew in.

On the far side of Loch Kanaird, a great skua chased a gannet the length of Isle Martin before giving up and returning to the fish farm. In fact, half a dozen gannets were fishing out over the bay. Finally, a raven cruised along the lay-by looking for anything edible. Not bad for a brief visit. 

I was watching a swallow swooping across the moorland when unexpectedly a golden eagle floated out from behind the high ground beyond, and a bunch of ravens rose from the ridge in noisy protest.

 
The eagle drifted off but then returned, and this time it was a buzzard (one of three present) which launched a no-nonsense attack from above.

Once again the eagle drifted away, and ravens and buzzards alike subsided into peace and harmony - which made me laugh, because there's generally not much love lost between them!