Christine's walking & birds blog

Greger saw them from the kitchen window - hundreds of winter thrushes streaming up from the hillside where they were probably feeding on rowan berries; and I snapped a few pictures from the porch.

He offered to take me to the quarry road and, despite my warnings about the ruts and potholes being concealed by snow, we sailed up to the walkers' car park without any trouble. Some of the thrushes had landed on nearby trees; they appeared to be mostly fieldfare, with only one definite redwing spotted.

On each of the last three days we've driven down to Silverbridge for a walk, and large flocks of winter thrushes were seen along the road and in the forest. Despite the snow, a pair of stonechats flitted about in a lay-by above Loch Glascarnoch, and earlier, before the snow, two song thrushes and a mistle thrush were foraging on the dam.

The only raptors seen over the three days were two red kites and a buzzard.

A week ago, my car failed its MOT and had to be left in Inverness for a part to be ordered and some expensive repair work to be done. Two days ago, I decided to go on the ferry to cheer myself up. Hmm. Not sure that worked! The first thing of note was the passing of a doomed ferry. MV Hebridean Isles has been doing the freight route from Stornoway, but will soon be heading for Turkey to be scrapped. Sad. 

It all went downhill from there, really - if you can go downhill at sea. On three occasions I spotted a probable sooty shearwater, but there was no chance of even the poorest of record shots. I'd hoped for two things: a great shearwater (just one would do - I'm not greedy!) and another sighting of white-beaked dolphins. I saw dolphins twice - but they were common. Still, I have to say that the trip was quite exciting, with a blustery wind, a frisky sea, and lots of spray thrown onto the deck; and it ended beautifully, with the hills of Assynt softly silhouetted against a pink sky and high above them the not-quite-full moon, casting a path of light on the water.

A few days before that, a walk along West Shore brought a gruesome sight.

It looks as though the skates/rays have had their wings removed. Since coming to live here, I've learnt that some species of skate are considered to be endangered. I love seafood, but I'll never eat skate or ray wings (not sure I ever have eaten them, actually). There's no need to - there are plenty more fish in the sea! (I could add "literally" but have sworn never to use that overused/misused word.) Meanwhile, I've been trying to identify them but don't make much headway. The largest was probably under 3 ft long. 

A lull in the stormy autumn weather, coinciding with the Isle of Lewis standing in for the Loch Seaforth, prompted us to go for yet another pelagic. We saw a few dolphins from the observation lounge before we'd even left Ullapool, and as things turned out, the day would belong to dolphins. Still lingering "indoors", Greger spotted and I managed to snap through glass, seventeen whooper swans flying high on a south-easterly bearing.

Up on deck, we enjoyed as usual the sense of space and the relatively unobstructed views you get of the sea from the old ferry. However, fewer numbers of tourists and a cold and persistent wind meant there was no competition for "rail room" anyway, while the strong vibrations (worse in some places than others) made using the camera (and even the binoculars) difficult. Greger didn't have a problem with the latter as he'd forgotten to pack his bins!

The Met Office continues to frustrate with forecasts that promise fair, calm weather for the following day and then, on the morning of that day, change it to probable rain and strong winds. I know they often get the weather right, but just lately, for this area anyway, they're getting it wrong fairly often.

The forecast for tomorrow was also good, so should we just wait a day? But what if that, too, changed by tomorrow morning? In the end, we decided to go on the ferry as planned; and under a dark sky threatening rain I walked down to the harbour while Greger diverted to Tesco to buy a newspaper.

While still among the Summer Isles and before we reached Priest Island, I was following a gull flying up the loch when I spotted just below it a tiny bird darting about over the surface of the water. "Petrel!" Greger got onto it but we both then lost it and there was no chance of a pic. The bird had a markedly black-and-white appearance so I'll put it down as a storm petrel.

We had passed under at least two bands of slightly spitting cloud on the way out, and when we reboarded the ferry at Stornoway it was quite definitely raining - so we sat for a while in the area between the coffee shop and the children's play-room. Given the number of children on board, I think it must be half-term - and what with them, scolding parents, and two hysterically barking dogs, the noise was terrific! After a while, feeling slightly battered, I went up; and when Greger joined me later he was amused to see that I was entirely alone. Bliss.

The rain petered out and we applied ourselves once more to searching for birds that just didn't seem to be there. A few gannets, goodish numbers of kittiwakes, the odd group of guillemots, and several great black-backed gulls were all we could spot - until Greger pointed out a flock of birds flying low over the sea. They turned out to be twelve barnacle geese.

These and the storm petrel saved the day. I've been fretting that others spot petrels while I seem to miss them, so this sighting boosted my birdwatching self-confidence a bit. I just wish I'd attempted to snap it - but there wasn't time. Is there ever?          

Greger, having received his card for ChargePlace Scotland (enabling him to use other chargers than Tesla's own), wanted to try it out at Knockan Crag. I said I'd go with him for the ride and to look for possible migrants in the trees there. Having successfully plugged in, we walked a short way up the trail and I spotted what looked like a chunky bird on a treetop in the small conifer plantation that surrounds a house down near the road. It was a male crossbill - the first crossbill I've seen here.

Leaving the crag car park we pulled into a lay-by quite close to the trees but failed to see the crossbill again. We drove home (where I discovered I'd lost a glove) and after lunch I drove back to the lay-by (where I found the glove!) and eventually a crossbill flew up to do lookout duty.

Yesterday: The ferry was late getting into Ullapool because of a medical emergency onboard; but with what seemed like less than a full load we were soon on our way. The coastguard helicopter, which had landed on the now empty camp-site, took off as we rounded the point. It was a beautiful day and the visibility was good, but we searched in vain for shearwaters. At Stornoway, a cruise liner new to us was in the dock - bit of a different design from the usual ones, and we couldn't decide if it looked old-fashioned, or futuristic.

On the way back we both spotted a pale bird as it caught up with the ferry; I thought it was an immature gull, and could manage only one shot before it disappeared behind the lifeboat.

Greger was sure it was a skua, and he was right. It's difficult to see, but it has a blue bill with a dark tip. Having done my usual research I'd say it's a juvenile Arctic. Okay, I'm posting the poor picture partly because it's the only photo I got of the only interesting bird all day - but it does show the warm tawny colouring, and I like the way the skua seems to be half-turning its head to look back at us. That was one cool bird!

There was whale activity on the return journey, but of a fragmentary nature. We saw a couple of blows, and Greger had a brief glimpse of an actual body but not enough to say what it was. A bit later I spotted some disturbance in the water not too far off, and called out, only to see two white, black-bordered flukes of a great tail rise above the surface and instantly slip down again. Greger missed it, and so did others around us. It was a super thing to see and I wish I hadn't been the only one to see it - but it happened in the blink of an eye, and the whale didn't reappear.  

There was quite a bit of dolphin activity, though I failed to get any decent shots; I include this photo because I like the texture of the water.

As with the outgoing trip, the ferry on returning took the alternative route through the Summer Isles; and a bit later we passed a small school of porpoises heading down the loch. It had been a lovely day, full of fresh air and sunshine - but I can't help thinking that this year, the Minch has been unusually quiet. It seems that the Little Minch has reported more bird life - we've been on the wrong ferry!

Two Slavonian grebes were at Ardmair, closer to Isle Martin than to the campsite spit - although later they drifted slowly into Loch Kanaird past the fish farm.