Christine's walking & birds blog

A walk up the quarry road in windy sunshine brought narrow-bordered bee hawk-moths, nectaring on bird'sfoot trefoil.

Fighting the wind out on the machair I was a bit dismayed to see no sanderling among the ringed plover and dunlin; but there was compensation in the sight of a busily feeding little stint.

Two black-throated divers were behaving slightly strangely, loafing near the Achnahaird beach car park and facing the shore.

Two great skuas were on their usual bathing loch, which is twice as many as I saw here last visit. At Badentarbat beach, a sedge warbler was singing and displaying from bushes by the houses - a nice garden tick for someone. A cuckoo was calling.

The A857 heading north across Lewis from Stornoway is a fast, straight road that takes no prisoners. Once you're on it you have to keep going - thanks to an absence of lay-bys - until you reach the west coast. There, in Barvas, we saw a sign to a memorial cairn and gratefully turned down a quiet lane to a lovely loch set in the machair, where we could at last park and eat our rather luxurious smoked salmon sandwiches with Philadelphia soft cheese, prepared that morning by Greger before we caught the ferry.

We hadn't heard of Loch Mor Bharabhais, so this place was a nice surprise. Greger pointed out a white-tailed sea eagle flying over. A large flock of dunlin zoomed around the sandy shores, and terns rested and preened on a rocky spit. Scanning what appeared to be a mix of common and Arctic terns, I was thrilled to see a little tern as well.

We walked out to the dunes and looked over the sea, and then it was back to the car and on to the Butt of Lewis. On the map it looks unpromising, with houses along the road to within a kilometre and a half of this northernmost point of the island; but at last you go up a single-track road with open moorland each side until you reach the lighthouse; and then it feels wild enough, with savage rock scenery and cliff-tops that stretch away into the distance, short-turfed and great for walking. I snapped fulmars nesting in the thrift, while Greger zoomed in on one pair.

It was fairly cool, with the Butt living up to its name as one of the windiest places in the UK; we hoped we'd have better weather the following day and drove back to our digs at the Cross Inn.

In fact, Friday dawned fair and sunny and we got up to the Butt early as the parking is limited. A whimbrel flew over the sea towards us and then landed on one of the off-shore rocks.

Making our way round the lighthouse and heading up the slope beyond, we saw a second whimbrel on the skyline.

On a small headland, the spongy turf ended abruptly with a step down to rockier ground - this edge providing an excellent seat for watching the sea.

My target bird was pomarine skua. I've been meaning for about three years to get to some headland in May, hoping to see these birds which, in spring, should have their "spoons" - thus enabling me to identify them with some confidence. The Butt of Lewis, I thought, might be just the spot - trouble was, no-one had informed the poms!

However, it was a beautiful place to while away a morning - especially with such lovely weather. We'd had a good cooked breakfast but after three hours we felt like coffee and cake, and started to pack up our things for the walk back to the car. I looked out over the sea one more time - and froze. Three or four "torpedoes" were moving swiftly through the water towards us, and I gabbled out "What's this?!" We got bins to our eyes and realised - they were orca! Greger had his posh camera with him and took the first two photos; the third one is mine, and possibly of interest because of the apparent marks (rake marks?) on the animal's body.

These were our first-ever killer whales, and we were understandably excited. I thought there were at least four individuals, but the top picture seems to show five. We had been alone for most of the morning, but now we heard voices - and there behind us were three or four people with tripods, who had apparently had good views of the orca below the lighthouse, and then come round to our side as they moved south along the coast. After about eight minutes according to the times on my pictures, the orca were gone.

After coffee and cake we went back and did another stint, but had no further luck with either birds or cetaceans.

It was hard to leave this wonderful place, but we needed to get back to Stornoway for our second night's lodging. On the way Greger suggested visiting the RSPB reserve of Loch na Muilne - the breeding place of red-necked phalaropes. We learned from the information board that the birds return in late May, so we were probably a bit early. A little grebe, a pair of teal, and a greenshank were seen - but best of all, I realised that the pink vegetation that attracts the phalaropes (for the insect life it holds) was actually one of my favourite wildflowers - bogbean. We were glad to have seen these little lochs set in the windswept (and currently dry) moorland even without the phalaropes.

The Ievoli Black was a fine sight as we drove out of Ullapool - probably testing its fire-fighting equipment but looking as though it was trying to impress the cruise liner, Viking Venus. (I think I've probably been birding too long.)

On our walk today a golden eagle rose gracefully above a distant ridge.....
Other birds seen: quite a few willow warblers, one redpoll, one wheatear, several common sandpipers, three Canada geese, several meadow pipits, one pied wagtail, and one song thrush. Two cuckoos were heard calling from the plantations across the loch.

A wander up the quarry road brought no wood warblers, but there were three singing tree pipits. I didn't count the willow warblers but for the whole walk I was never out of earshot of willow warbler song. Back in the village I checked the spit and the dog-walking field, but it was only as I returned to my car that I heard the sound of reeling issuing from the brambly bank below West Terrace.

Approaching the beach at Achnahaird we spotted three birds ahead of us on the edge of the low cliffs - our first whimbrel of the year.

It was almost impossible to hold the camera still in a wind that was as strong as it was yesterday. The beach, always changeable, had taken on yet another character from those we knew; pale dry sand had blown westwards until it piled against and temporarily extended the dunes, while the wind-raked marram grass took on the appearance of streaming hair.

There was something on Loch Cul Dromannan, glimpsed through its fringe of trees as I drove north - and as the road was empty I veered across to the other side and parked in the access to the masts. The "something" turned out to be three tufted ducks.

I tended to take tufties for granted down south, where they're fairly common on both the Thames and the Jubilee River; but they are scarce on the north-west coast of Scotland, and it's always nice to see them.  Small groups often seem to spend a bit of time on this loch in spring, possibly on their way into Assynt where a few pairs sometimes breed (that information from various sources, including assyntwildlife.org.uk).

 Here's a bird that hasn't featured on my blog for ages.

Maybe one day I'll learn that a weather forecast for Ullapool doesn't necessarily bear any relation to what's happening out on the Minch. Mind you, it's got a lot to do with where you choose to do your sea-watching from on the ferry. My favourite place has become the short rail on the upper deck, in front of the funnel and facing north. Today it really caught the wind - the other side was much calmer!

A few pairs of puffins, three or four razorbills, a larger numbers of guillemots, and a handful of gannets were all I could manage on the way out. Stornoway harbour could offer no common terns, but did produce an overflying heron, a black guillemot, a pair of red-throated divers, and the usual hooded crow that swoops in to hoover up any crumbs on the deck. As we glided back out to sea, I spotted a white-winger flying up onto a rusty pole.

It's not the regular viking because the bill is pink with a black tip - but of course it could easily be a different viking. The bill looks a bit small for a glaucous but I think the tertial step and short primary projection argue against Iceland. I'll just have to leave it at that, because I really haven't a clue.

As the birds were rubbish, I concentrated very hard on the sea in an area some way out from a distant lighthouse, hoping for another sighting of Risso's dolphins. A man with binoculars asked me if I could see if there was something just out from the land and I said it was probably waves crashing on the rocks. I don't know why I said that. After all, I now know that this is Tiumpan Head, a well-known spot for whale- and dolphin-watching. Anyway, I took a few optimistic pics but I'm none the wiser. Are they whale blows or breaches or the leaping of large dolphins?

A lift home was very welcome as I was absolutely exhausted.