Christine's walking & birds blog

During the storms earlier this year we watched our lovely cypress tree bending in the wind (and exposing the street light that its branches have enveloped) and decided it might be time for it to go. We wouldn't mind if it fell into our garden, but that would require a south-easterly wind - not too frequent here. It would be more likely to fall across the road and possibly injure or even kill someone.

I took a shot of Greger beside it, which gives it some scale. I then roughly measured how many Gregers it would take to reach the top - while Greger himself worked out the height a bit more scientifically with the aid of trigonometry. I came up with 10.6 metres, Greger with between 10 and 12 metres.

The men would need the drive for their vehicles so I went off to Achnahaird - for the first time this year. Birdie firsts for the year were three dunlin, three shelduck, and a handful of skylarks. On the way out I stopped for the umpteenth time to snap Cul Beag (the man on the walk highlands website pronounces it something like "Cool Bake" - but with the ea in Beag sounding not quite like the a in bake and not quite like the e in beck.) The name means "small back", as it is lower than its neighbour, Cul Mor (big back). But I always find this hill more impressive, because as you drive out of the Coigach area it rises directly ahead - an obstacle and a challenge. The road runs along its lower slopes which then plunge into the loch - unusual, and maybe even unique for hills in the area.

When I arrived home the men were clearing up and the cypress tree was gone. Greger had videoed the felling, which was done quickly and professionally; and when he showed me the clip I must admit to getting a bit tearful. In the years we've lived here, the tree has provided shelter and perches for lots of birds, including a brambling and a barred warbler; its tiny cones have been plundered for their seeds by siskins and redpolls; and the very top has been used fleetingly as a lookout point by waxwings, collared doves, rooks, and on one occasion by a mistle thrush.

I've never been a crying sort of person, but this is the third time this year I've got weepy. The second time was on rewatching the last episode of "Unforgotten" with Nicola Walker; and the first time, back in January, was on reading a Country Diary in the Guardian by Nicola Chester. Chester is an excellent writer on the natural world, and is of extra interest to me because she lives in west Berkshire surrounded by countryside that's familiar from one of our Saturday walks. This particular column is an account of a local walk, when she finds herself missing the family's dog that had recently been put down in its old age. A fine piece of writing.

I was staring into the sun at Aultbea, trying to see if three silhouetted waders were my first redshanks of the year (they were), when I became aware of a loud "yip" or "yap" sort of call and looked around for a dog. But the sound came from above - and there against the blue were two white-tailed sea eagles, making lazy circles around each other just over the road (houses, cars, people, a shop - strange place for courting eagles!).

The weather here is capricious, to say the least; so when the morning dawned sullen and damp, I didn't despair. After all, the Met Office website showed a dry, sometimes sunny day from nine o'clock onwards, and I've seen the clouds roll away before, leaving a blue sky and sunshine.....only today, it didn't happen. I drove north to Ledmore Junction and then east along the single-track road, anticipating seeing crossbills and getting some pictures in good light. Loch Borralan seemed empty of birds, though I pulled over near the motel to identify a solitary sleeping female goosander. A car approaching from the opposite direction drew up alongside and the driver said "A silver van is coming along behind me, and he has no clutch, so he can't stop". I said I would wait there; he thanked me and drove on, and almost immediately the silver van came along and passed me with a flash of his lights. I supposed they were taking it to the garage in Ullapool. Only in the Highlands.....

At Loch Craggie I walked up the track to look in the frog-and-newt ditch; frogspawn has already been reported in Assynt, but I know from experience now that it comes quite a bit later at this inland location (on the OS map, there is a spot height on the road of 155m above sea level, with a further rise of a few metres to the usual place). Not surprisingly, there was nothing there.

After lunch I drove back slowly, scanning the conifer tops for crossbills, but there was no sign of any. There has been a great deal of clear-felling along this road, although plenty of forest remains; but the work could have disturbed the crossbills, and there's no doubt that some of the best locations for them are gone. Or, of course, they're just somewhere else - they range fairly widely. Hope so. I parked again and walked across moorland to another good spot, but again there was nothing. The rain was by now quite heavy, and I decided to go home. Back on the A835, I looked across at the snaking Ledmore River and caught sight of a pair of whooper swans. These were my first for the year.

Yesterday: A walk by a loch brought me my first stonechat of the year.....

.....and my first golden eagle.

Rotten picture, but it reminds me of the lovely moment when the eagle floated out from behind a hill and circled in the air above the ridge for some minutes. A man had climbed the hill just before, and maybe he'd disturbed it (not intentionally, I'm sure) because after a while the eagle flew across the road and I saw several birds (possibly black grouse) speeding away across the moorland. We saw grouse fleeing from a red kite last year, so it's hardly surprising that they're spooked by a golden eagle! My year list grows agonisingly slowly - but the best times are ahead. 

I got my car and myself out of the way this morning as a man would be coming to repair our boiler, and drove to Ardmair. At the end of the camp-site I was gazing in vain at the cloud of gulls over the too-distant fish-farm when I became aware of singing - and there were my first twite of the year, on the fence right in front of me.

A red kite circling over the snowy Loch Glascarnoch hills was the first thing I saw as we pulled in to the car park this morning.

It was a beautiful day and we were looking forward to our usual walk - but as we passed through the first gate and set off along the track, we looked back to see a workman's truck pull in to the lay-by. A man got out and started to put cones out along the edge of the lay-by, so we went back as we didn't know what was happening. By the time we got there, he'd coned the road for single-line traffic and put temporary lights up. They will probably need the lay-bys for road-repair machinery, but today, we hadn't really needed to return to the car - in fact, several other cars had pulled in despite the cones. Oh well. I suggested a short walk at Altan Wood instead; we went up as far as the stream (didn't fancy crossing it today) and flushed four black grouse, which flew high above the moorland before dropping out of sight behind a stand of conifers. It's nice to know they're still around.