Saturday, April 04, 2026
I've been distressed on behalf of all the tourists pouring into the area, given that apocalypse now (or Storm Dave) is apparently on the way - so I was pleasantly surprised this morning to open the curtains and see a blue sky, and hardly a breath of wind. We drove south to the Silverbridge/Longart Forest area for the umpteenth time lately, hoping that on this walk we would actually see a crossbill.
We only just managed to squeeze into the crowded car park, and then set off in sunshine - though gloved and hatted! For the third time this year, I was sure I heard a crossbill's quiet "gip" call from the canopy directly above us and in the same area. It was only later, and from a distance, that I finally spotted an orange male feeding in the top of a pine tree (photo much cropped).
Magical to see and hear! Around six o'clock this evening (just as the Met Office predicted), the precipitation began. I call it that because it was so mixed - rain, sometimes a bit of unconvincing snow, then sleet; the garden was soon just soaking wet, but sure enough the high ground was beginning to take on a whitish appearance. But not much wind so far. Anyway, glad the Easter weekend has had one good day.
Friday, April 03, 2026
It was horribly cold today so we had a lazy drive down the coast. The five black-throated divers were on Loch Ewe.
Saturday, March 21, 2026
On a dull breezy day at Achnahaird, our first wheatear of the year was spotted by Greger.
The day before that, my first grey wagtail of the year was flying up and down the Black Water River at Silverbridge.
Saturday, February 28, 2026
An absolutely beautiful day called me out, and I drove up to Knockan Crag; but I'd forgotten my Leki poles, and as I'm still a bit scared of slipping on wet grass and rocks I decided against walking the very steep geology trail. Driving back, I had a glimpse of a couple of birds on the narrow Loch Braigh nan Allt, lying next to the road but mostly hidden by a high bank. I pulled into a lay-by and walked back, but the birds had disappeared. Just to make sure, I clambered up onto the bank for a better view - and realised that I was standing on the remains of an old road, running parallel with the A835.
Looking south:
Looking north:
I found the old road on its bank useful for the walk back to my car, although it didn't go all the way. I like old roads, and discovering this one made up for the loss of the birds.
I thought I'd check Loch Cul Dromannan as well - where I found a nice goldeneye.
I'm having problems with computers. On the new Big Mac, PAGES hangs up when I try to get into it, so I can't access the lists I keep there. I also have a few lists on the old Big Mac; I can't just print these out as the printer only links to the new Big Mac - and I can't transfer them to the new computer because documents automatically go into PAGES - which keeps hanging up. And if we get rid of the old Big Mac, they'll be lost. So I've photographed the list of Scottish hill-walking birds from the screen and, as February is fairly empty, I'm going to park it here.
Thursday, February 19, 2026
A very dozy purple sandpiper was on the golf-course spit just after high tide.
Tuesday, January 27, 2026
The strong southeasterly winds continue, and along West Shore Street two fugitives from the storms were seen - a stonechat foraging on both beach and road, and a red-breasted merganser.
The poor shot (excuse alert - into the sun and heaving sea!) of the merganser is interesting because it shows (probably) that its prey was a scorpion fish. The next moment the merganser had dived, as a trio of gulls swooped to pinch its meal. They didn't succeed, but I'm not sure if the merganser did either, as it resurfaced a few seconds later without the fish. A third year tick was obtained nearby as a wren hopped about among the tables opposite the Arch Inn.
Monday, January 12, 2026
Yesterday: A third trip up to the dam, with a partial thaw underway, brought only two birds - but they gave me a year tick, and, more interestingly, displayed some behaviour that I hadn't seen before. We spotted them as soon as we pulled into the still-crunchy lay-by - two birds flying and swooping round the control tower at great speed; I identified them as kestrels and commented that they must be two male birds, disputing territory.
One landed on a shelf halfway up the tower while the second bird made several dives at it in a seemingly aggressive manner - after which they both flew off and made a large circle over the valley below, returning to perch now and then in the treetops of the plantation. My poor picture at least proves that I was wrong - one was a female.
Back home I consulted Birds of the Western Palearctic, which says "Courtship often occurs well before breeding season, both sexes circling and chasing....male repeatedly diving at female in mock attacks". I have to confess that, down south, I found the kestrel a rather boring bird (familiarity breeding, not contempt exactly, just lack of interest); but this dazzling display changed my mind. It was also nice to discover that, despite appearances, it was all about bonding, not battle.
