There have been a lot of rarities around recently, and I’ve managed to miss out on them. The Blackdog scoters have proved a walk too far for me but it raised the profile of the place, bringing in many birders to savour the delights of the area. ...more

It’s raining. I’m sitting in my car, just off the Lecht road, nearly 2000feet up in the Eastern Cairngorms. I’m expecting a Raven. ...more

Yes, dear readers I thought it was about time that I let you know how things are going. The short answer is, not too well. ...more

Time to Catch Up..... ...more

Yes folks, it’s been a lovely week weather wise with temperatures up to 23° C, and a steady trickle of summer migrants appearing. Luckily I’ve enjoyed enough energy to appreciate it. ...more

Yes, the warmest day of the year so far, and a real pleasure to be out without the encumbrance of winter gear. ...more

Montreathmont Forest is a bit of a mouthful, and it is also a big forest. Glen Lethnot is a long narrow glen that winds into the Angus hills. ...more

Yes, the snow and frost is back. ...more

For anyone who can be bothered, here is my list so far for 2011. ...more

Energy levels nearly back to normal for the moment, so time to hit the road again. First stop, as so often, was Nigg Bay. Bu the sun was in my eyes and the wind was blowing in off the sea, and there didn’t seem to be a lot of birds about, so I moved round to Greyhope Bay where it was more sheltered. What could I find to add to my year list? ...more

Well, the first dose of chemo didn’t go according to plan. In fact it all went quite dramatically wrong, but enough of that. The next couple of days I felt fine so I managed a day in Angus, even walking a couple of kilometres in short stages. Since then I have been really lousy, but now a lot better again. I guess that’s the way it goes. ...more

This is just a quick update to let you know why I have not been posting any updates for a while. I have been diagnosed with cancer (again, after a ten year break) and will shortly be having chemotherapy. I do intend doing as much birding and photography as I am able to, so hopefully I’ll have something more cheerful to report before too long. I’ll be back!

I’ve never forgotten the firemen of Trumpton, when I used to watch telly with our kids. If it
means nothing to you, just ignore and read on. ...more

After two whole months of snow and frost, I woke this morning to find a green world outside again. It has been hard. Days of clearing paths, digging out cars and blocked roads have finally come to an end. For the moment anyway: no doubt there will be more of it yet. And I think I’ve had a virus, or possibly boar-flu. That seems to be on the mend as well, and I’ve been out and about trying to catch up with a few birds. ...more

Yes it’s that time of year again when the old two-headed god looks backwards and forwards. 2010 was a memorable year, with my highest ever year list climbing to a mediocre 210 species. And yet there were a few odd omissions. ...more

I know 210 is a fairly modest total for a year’s birding, but it is one more than last year and I’m quite happy with it. So how did it come about? ...more

The year is slipping away and I was beginning to wonder if I could safely wrap up my year list for 2010. But hang on a bit, all is not yet lost. ...more

I can’t come up with a more imaginative title because I have nothing of any great interest to report. I haven’t been out and about much either which doesn’t help. Anyway, here are a few snippets of news. ...more

At this moment there are several thousand Waxwings (Bombycilla garrulous) in Scotland. I know this because I now own a pager, and it bleeping well tells me every few minutes where they are and how many. ...more

I know that’s not quite how it goes, but it’s apt. Monday did indeed produce a moment of glory, but since then it has gone downhill. ...more

It was my birthday, and I was hoping for a nice pressie. So I went back to Montrose Basin, hoping that this time I would be lucky and find the Ross’s Goose. ...more

East wind, drizzle – good for bringing in migrants. Fog with it – bad for seeing them. Still, there was said to be a Ross’s Goose at Montrose Basin, and I wanted to check it out for myself. ...more

Before I went out today I had a look on various websites to find out what had been reported over the previous few days. Although I prefer to find my own birds, I would hate to miss out on anything special. With the information gathered I set myself a few targets for the day. I thought this might stop me from wandering around aimlessly. Girdleness Allotments: Short Toed Lark, Brambling and Redstart. Kinneff: Yellow Browed Warbler, Spotted Flycatcher. Gourdon: Great Grey Shrike. Auchmithie: Red-backed Shrike, Barred Warbler. That should keep me busy. ...more

I forgot to mention this in my last entry. On my final trawl of the day round The Battery, a brown stripy thing flew in and landed on top of the wall. It looked like another Lapland Bunting. I took a few photos of it. I should have looked harder, and maybe realised that Lapland Buntings are not renowned for sitting on tops of walls. Anyway, when I processed the day’s photos, I began to have doubts as to its identity. Not a Lap Bunt then. Out with Collins second edition. Ah, just a Reed Bunting then, one of those tricky first winter plumaged ones. Unless anyone tells me differently of course, in which case I’ll be delighted because it’ll be something a bit rarer. Photo is in the Birds Gallery.

30th September 2010.
The moment I turned into the car park I could see this was going to be an interesting day. Something sat atop the Battery wall, a couple of little brown jobs flitted from one gorse bush to another. Armed with camera and binoculars, I set off with mounting excitement. ...more

One of the many things I like about birding is the certainty that some things will always happen, no matter what goes on in the world at large. ...more

Today I let my heart rule my head. Although the weather was reasonably dry and calm at home, I saw from the Met Office Rainfall Radar website that things were different on the coast at Aberdeen. And it wasn’t lying. ...more

With my dear other half sufficiently recovered to allow me a day off my domestic duties I decided that Strathbeg offered the best bet for a birdy bonanza. ...more

Nah, probably not. But just in case you are wondering if I have finally fallen off my perch, I’m pleased to say I am fit and well. It’s my other half who has been proper poorly, so I’ve been restricted to some garden birding, in between cooking, cleaning, shopping, nursing and all that.

Happily things have improved a bit now and I may even be allowed out to play one day soon. Of course I’ve missed all the activity of the last ten days, but there are more important things in life than ticking migrants. Possibly.

I have now found the time to add some info to nearly all of my photos, like exposure details and stuff. Can I also say how pleased I am to find that I have readers scattered all over the globe. The map on the home page reveals all. Thank you all for reading this diary and looking at my photos.

My prediction of the first snows of the winter on the Cairngorms was a little bit out – it had already happened, before the end of August. But now the wind has moved into the south east, bringing pleasant warm sunny conditions to much of the country. The wind is also about to strengthen and bring rain. Much gleeful rubbing of hands in the birding community. There has been a mini invasion of Lapland Buntings (or Lapland Longspurs for my transatlantic readers), so yesterday I took off to Girdleness for a look see. ...more

Last winter was the coldest on record in north-east Scotland for many decades. I wondered at the time what the effect would be on some of our birds. Now, I fear the worst. ...more

A few days ago I headed up to the Loch of Strathbeg area, lured, it must be admitted, by the report of a Barred Warbler at Rattray. But first I went to the visitor centre at Starnafin to see what was about on the RSPB Reserve. But as I left the car I could hear the sad moaning of a strimmer, and then Tim came out of the building and confirmed my worst fears. ...more

At last there was enough activity at The Ness to keep me interested – for all of 90 minutes! At first, I thought it was going to be like it was on Monday, just the usual terns, Gannets, gulls, Swallows, Goldfinches, Linnets, Eiders, Mergansers – nothing exciting. But then, after 10 minutes..... ...more

I have started doing something I should have been doing from the outset. I'm adding details of my photos, exposure, location and so on. Maybe some of you will find it of interest. It's going to take a while to work through all the photos, so bear with me.

16th August 2010. When I arrived at Nigg Bay, on the south side of Girdleness, I squeezed into the car park and began scanning for birds. ...more

This is the time of year when there should be some interesting “stuff about”. Days go by with no reports on the web, nothing to make me jump into the car and set off full of hope and anticipation of seeing a new bird, or at least one I haven’t seen this year. So, I have been passing the time watching loads of common stuff, albeit with a few surprises thrown in. ...more

All my recent dashing about looking for Greenshanks was not very green. I really must try to cut back. ...more

One day last week I went to the hide at Tarland, really just to top up the feeders and put up an updated bird list. Green Woodpecker and Turnstone had been noted in the log book, both very good birds for Tarland. ...more

Sometimes it is difficult to think up an appropriate title, and even harder to think of anything interesting to say. But I must try or risk losing my readership. ...more

That’s sea fog for the benefit of non native readers. And it’s not funny. ...more

Yesterday was a different sort of day. Normally your correspondent enjoys his birding forays content with his own company. It made a pleasant change to be showing off the delights of the area to friends from south of the Grampians. ...more

Well, certainly not me, but I know a bird who does. A couple of days ago I paid a visit to one of the north east’s star birding attractions – Troup Head. ...more

The last few days have been characterised by a series of unusually deep depressions for the time of year. They have been passing to the north west of Scotland, with their associated fronts crossing the country, bringing rain and southerly gales. Perhaps as a result of this unseasonal weather, there have been two noteworthy events in the garden today. ...more

First of all, an update on what is happening at home. For the last couple of days I have been deeved by a persistent insistent songster. ...more

When I started this blog I said I would recount the bad days as well as the good ones, the frustrations and the joys, the failures and the successes. There have not been too many bad days, but today was a shocker. ...more

17th June 2010

I’ve always wanted to see a Temminck’s Stint. I just like the name I guess. Temminck was a 19thC Dutch zoologist who managed to have quite a few things named after him. I think I’ll investigate time travel, and see if I can go back a couple of hundred years, and maybe find a few new species to name. Anyway, I digress. I turned up at Strathbeg to find one of the staff trying to ID a distant wader. I was soon on to it, but it was indeed a tiny bird, and it was hiding behind a leaf. ID not possible. Then it sort of vanished. The place was suddenly attacked by a swarm of primary school children, so I vanished too, to Rattray. I had lunch there, looking for a Smew that was said to be on the loch. No Smew, but a Corn Bunting or three were pouring out their hesitant rattling song.

I went back to the Visitor Centre, now relatively peaceful again. Quite soon I spotted what I hoped was the Stint. It was a little closer now and out in the open. There then followed long periods of watching, discussion and debate, among staff, visitors and myself who knows nothing about Stints. There are a few similar looking birds you see. Very confusing. I had to leave them to it and begin the long road home.

Next day, I checked the RSPB website and the word was that it was indeed a Temminck’s Stint. It had come even closer and the ID had finally been clinched.

Oh dear, another song title finds it way to the top of the page. It really is quite relevant though. There is no doubt that having a birding grapevine makes it a lot easier to see birds that you would otherwise miss out on. Whether it is as satisfying as finding your own birds is of course always debatable. Anyway, there are several grapevines for north-east birders (see the LINKS SECTION for details) and I have to admit I check them almost daily to see what is about. Recently, a couple of Spoonbills have been mentioned, frequenting the Ythan estuary. A week past Sunday I was in the area and had a quick look for them. Nothing. Then last Thursady I had a day out, and ended up at the Ythan again. This time, I found them, on the end of a grassy spit on the north side of the Tarty Burn. I was parked on the road verge, but quite a long way away from them, so it was not the best place to be. However, I noticed some unexpected behaviour from them. They were surely a pair, although not in full breeding plumage. But there was rather a lot of bill fencing going on, and mutual preening. Also they were picking up reed stems and walking about with them, looking as if they were thinking of making a nest. As far as I know, there is only one record of Spoonbills nesting in Scotland, so I found this interesting. Normally, I would not put this kind of observation out for all and sundry to read, but as the birds are no longer there, having apparently moved to The RSPB Loch of Strathbeg, I don’t think I’m doing any harm.

After watching the Spoonbills for a bit, I headed downstream to the beach area, in the hope of finding the King Eider, another product of the grapevine. It too has been around for a while. Trouble is, there are thousands of Eiders on the river, spread over about a mile of estuary. It took a chance conversation with a couple of passing birders to elicit its exact whereabouts. It was on the north shore, next to the Grey Seal colony. And sure enough, that was where I found it. The seals were entertaining too. Why do they sing? What are they saying to each other? Some of them were having a great time in the river, jumping and leaping clear out of the water, and coming quite close to my side of the river to check me out.

A couple of days ago, inspired by yet another grapevine report, I was in the Angus Glens. I went firstly to Glen Esk, to a spot I know is reliable for Redstarts. It took a lot of patience, but eventually I got very good views of a cracking male bird. While I was looking around, I was entertained by numerous Cuckoos calling, and once I saw three of them chasing each other through the trees. A Tree Pipit was perched above my head, loudly defending its territory. Then I moved to Glen Lethnot, a very quiet out of the way valley, deep into the southern flank of the Grampians. Whinchats, Ravens, Red Grouse, Curlews and Snipe were all seen and heard. Before heading home, I went back to Glen Esk to try to photograph a Redstart, but this time all I saw was a quick flypast female.

Yesterday, I went to Farr. No, that’s not bad spelling, although it was quite a long way. Farr is a tiny community in some delectable country between Fort Augustus and the A9. The main purpose was to visit Loch Ruthven, another RSPB Reserve, and reliable for Slavonian Grebes, or Horned Grebes as we are supposed to call them now. After leaving home at the silly time of 05.30, I arrived at the Loch to find it mirror calm, and I had the place to myself. Well, it was still only 08.00. I quickly found two of the grebes, one of them busily ferrying food into a patch of reeds where there was probably a nest. After that, I drove across the hills from Farr to Strathdearn, spotting a hunting Red Kite on the way. The other objective of the day was to find a Black-throated Diver, and so I went to Lochindorb where I have previously seen them. In spite of a little rain, it was incredibly tranquil. The little road hugs the shore for quite a way, and I drove up and down several times, stopping frequently to scan the water. It is a big loch, and any divers could be hard to spot. Finally, I did see one, put the scope on it, and ....O no! it’s a Red-throated Diver. Lovely birds they are, but I’ve seen loads of them this year. Redshanks and Common Sandpipers were feeding along the shoreline, quite unconcerned by passing traffic. It was a good photographic opportunity, one which I took full advantage of. Several families of Red Grouse were on the road too, the little balls of fluff paying no heed to the danger of cars. The parents looked on with that perpetual worried look they have. More photos. Then I spotted another diver, a very long way off. The heat haze was making it hard to see properly, but sadly it was only another Red-throated one. It was hard to drag myself away from such an idyllic spot, but time was running out, and so I had to go home minus my Black-throated Diver. Until another time.

Last night, before going to bed, I had a look outside. I’ve been doing this quite a lot recently. The reason? I’m looking for a Woodcock. And at long last, there was one squeaking and grunting its way across the valley. I was a good end to a long and fruitful day.

This is just to let you know that we are back from our Shetland adventure. I have made a new section which contains a report on the trip, and also a new gallery for some photos of the landscape and birds.

11th May 2010. Had a nice day out with Angus and Dundee Bird Club, going to Glen Doll. Added Raven and Golden Eagle to the year list.

12th May 2010. Time to do a bit of Atlas Listing, so went off to Glen Gelder. The forest was incredibly quiet, not a bird to be seen or heard, but once out on to the moor it turned into quite a busy day. Cuckoo calling, a Wheatear doing its display flight, something I don’t think I’ve seen before, a Snipe calling, some Common Sandpipers and a female Goosander on the burn, and a total of 7 Black Grouse. Plus lots of commoner stuff of course.

17th May 2010. Another day, another tetrad, this time in Glen Clunie. And another busy time, with Snipe, Redpoll, Red Grouse, a Sand Martin colony, a Ring Ouzel, right at the roadside, and a Wheatear. Job done, and I continued up the road to the Glenshee Ski Centre car park. I had lunch while I scanned the stony slopes of the Cairnwell, and after 25 long minutes I saw two flying birds. When they landed, I was able to see that they were Ptarmigan, two males having a bit of a spat. That’s one difficult to get bird out of the way for another year. It was still only early afternoon, so what to do now? I had recently read on Bird Forum about the delights of Killiecrankie, and realised I was half way there already. So off I went, even though I DO NOT LIKE that road. It’s like being at sea in a small boat on a rough sea. Never mind, I arrived in one piece, exited the car and immediately heard the unmistakeable coin spinning call of a Wood Warbler. Still in the car park, I heard what I hoped was a Garden Warbler. I scanned the trees and soon saw the welcome sight of the rather plain looking warbler with the elderberry eye. I started out on the woodland trail (what’s wrong with saying path for goodness sake?) and found a mini forest of oak trees, alive with birdsong. More Wood Warblers at first, then a Spotted Flycatcher and a Pied Flycatcher. Several Pied Flycatchers in fact, all very approachable. I had a walk along the river bank, where I found another couple of Garden Warblers, and lots of tits and finches. What a magical place! It’s on my list for a repeat visit.

18th May 2010. I took it into my head to re-visit some of my childhood haunts, to see what the bird life was like after a gap of more than half a century. First to Kintore, where I had frittered away my time fishing the Don, instead of studying. The river has changed quite a bit. The steep earth banks have been smoothed out and lined with boulders, denying the Sand Martins a lot of nesting opportunities. But they were managing somehow, with short stretches of bank. There were two Mute Swan nests, the pen sitting tight while the cob kept a wary watch over passers by. The oddest thing I saw was a Common Tern, fishing in the river, and successfully too, as it carried off a salmon parr to wherever its nest is. I went for a look at my old home. I was born and brought up (literally) on the banks of the Don in Aberdeen, and haven’t been back for a very long time. There have been a lot of changes – more trees, bigger trees, the mill has been replaced by fancy housing, and the river is now a wholesome sparkling stream, cleared of the paper mill effluent that used to choke all the wildlife. A pair of Grey Wagtails was something I never saw there as a boy, but now there they were. The whole area looked very birdy. Somewhere else to put on my list.

Tomorrow, the missus and I are off to Shetland for a while. Not full time birding like I enjoyed last month in Norfolk, but a bit of walking, a bit of culture, a bit of photography, and as much birding as I can reasonably fit in. Be seeing you.

After a brilliant week’s birding in Norfolk, I’m home again. (Report is now available for you in the “Holidays” Section). In Norfolk, spring was well advanced, and now the migrants I was seeing there are turning up here at home. I’ve seen a Tree Pipit at Loch of Leys, Banchory, and Swifts over the house yesterday. “Our” Swallows are back, and a Cuckoo has been calling for a week from time to time. Up at Tarland, there are 3 Lapwing chicks and 4 Mallard ducklings, and several pairs of noisy displaying Redshanks. It is just a pity that the wind has gone back to a northerly direction, and the forecast is for a rather chilly week.

16th April 2010. I gave in to temptation. 4 Cranes at Loch of Kinnordy and a singing Redstart in Glen Esk were too much for me to resist. Sufficient to say, I saw neither, nor yet anything else of much interest. But it was a gorgeous day and I did come home with a nice sun tan. Apparently the Cranes had moved to a nearby field, so I spent half an hour driving round examining all the fields, with no success. Ah well, off to Glen Esk.

I stopped at several places and had a walk about in the birch woods, looking and more importantly listening for any Redstart song. There were plenty tits and finches but that was it. I went to the end of the road, parked and set off along the track to Loch Lee, looking for any raptors soaring above the crags. Unbelievably, the sky was completely empty. Two birdless miles later, I was back at the car, hot and sticky. Why on earth did I have to hump that heavy camera and lens all that way?

19th April 2010. I did a bit of shopping in Banchory, and had a stroll along the River Dee, hoping for a Common Sandpiper. There are a few about I hear. Instead, I got my first Willow Warbler of the year.

20th April 2010. I went to the hide at Tarland, mainly to use the sandpaper I bought yesterday to remove the graffiti that has been on the inside of the hide all winter. I was rewarded with the sight of 12 Black-tailed Godwits all in fine summer plumage, busily feeding in the pool. A supporting cast of over 400 Black-headed Gulls, plus ducks and waders made for a noisy session. And after the pleasant sunshine of a few days, it was snowing again, with the surrounding hills all white.

Unless anything dramatic happens in the next few days, I won’t be writing again for a couple of weeks, until I get back from Norfolk. As always, thank you for reading.

Today the Sand Martins have returned to their nest sites in the cracks in the masonry on Potarch Bridge. About 6 to 8 birds were flying in and out of the little holes. Down below, a lovely Grey Wagtail was flitting about on the rocky bank of the river. A quick visit to Inchgarth Reservoir produced one, or maybe two calling Chiffchaffs. I managed to get a reasonable photo, which is now in the Bird Gallery.

The month started with a visit to Tarland, where there was plenty of activity. All the usual waders were back on site, plus ducks, gulls and a small flock of Golden Plovers. I finally found my first Song Thrush of the year at Coull, and then a second one at Birse. Next day, a visit to Girdleness continued the springtime action. Several smart Wheatears on the beach at Nigg Bay hopped about on the rocks, Skylarks soared and sang, Meadow Pipits parachuted down to earth, Chiffchaffs called from the willows round the sewage works, and a Snipe exploded from the damp grass next to the footpath. I went out to the Ythan at Newburgh, still trying to re-find the elusive Bewick’s Swan, and instead found my first Sandwich Terns of the year, and after a two year gap, a pair of Grey Partridges.

A couple of days later I went over the hill to Angus, and found one of the returning Ospreys at Kinnordy, sitting on top of a pole munching its way through a very long eel. A Water Rail squealed a couple of times in the reeds but declined to come out into the open. Montrose Wildlife Centre produced a few Black-tailed Godwits, some of them in stunning summer plumage.

On the 7th, I was back at Nigg Bay. The River Dee used to enter the North Sea here, but that was a long time ago. Now there is only a filthy polluted ditch, the convenient dumping ground of industrial estates. Well offshore, the Red-breasted Mergansers and Long-tailed Ducks were still there, still displaying to each other. There was little else to be seen, so I nipped out to Newburgh again, this time concentrating on the river mouth and Foveran Links. The seal population seems to have expanded quite a bit: I counted over 400 of them lounging on the sands of the north shore, males, females and pups all together relaxing in the spring sunshine. From time to time they would break into song, an eerie wailing that floated across the water. In the dunes, I stopped for a bit at the Foveran bushes to watch a very well attired male Reed Bunting. A couple of Chiffchaffs were calling. Then a man and a dog appeared, the dog off lead, but under perfect control. What a joy to see.

A couple of day later, my first Swallow of the year passed over the house, and I saw two more at Tarland. After the melting of the latest snows, the field next to the reserve is flooded as well. No doubt the farmer will be upset, but the waders and the gulls are not bothered. Last weekend, the 10th and 11th, the temperature soared to a sudden 19°C, and a bout of gardening was called for. It was cooler next day when I headed up to Rattray and Strathbeg. The attraction was a flock of Great Northern Divers off Rattray Head. I found them eventually, far offshore. The light was not good, but their outline was unmistakeable. Eiders, Scoters and Long-tailed Ducks were there too in good numbers. The Visitor Centre at Strathbeg was a disappointment. There was no sign of the Garganey or the Ruff that had been seen earlier that day. This wasn’t too surprising, since SEPA man was wandering about over the low ground, disturbing all the birds. Then the strimming quartet started up just outside the building, cutting all the long vegetation. It’s a Nature Reserve for goodness sake, not a municipal park.

It has been a busy week. Spring has arrived, migrants are starting to appear. But whoa, what is this – it’s snowing heavily. Surely not again! The garden feeders are alive with birds, especially Siskins, black and yellow stripy things standing on their heads to feed. I’m going to have to go out and refill the feeders soon. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

24th March. Evelyn and I were on our way to Haddo House, via the Ythan. I was keeping a lookout for the Bewick’s Swan that I had missed last time. Driving along the road towards Waulkmill, I saw two swans together in a field. I stopped and had a look. The first one was a young Whooper, bill still lemon yellow. The one next to it was – yes, a Bewick’s. Smaller, with the distinctive truncated yellow patch on the bill.

25th March. Time to check out Girdleness. Several Meadow Pipits around now, my first of the year, and the air full of Skylark song. I had a peek into Walker Park, hoping for an early Wheatear. And yes, there was one, away at the far side. Shortly afterwards, I was parked at the edge of the road watching more Meadow Pipits, when another Wheatear dropped in. It was a stunning male bird. Soon it too was gone but not before I had grabbed a few shots.

26th March. In the morning I went to Tarland. The reserve there was teeming with birds, mostly Black-headed Gulls. And what a racket they were making. But there were also Lapwings displaying, Oystercatchers piping and Redshanks pleading. Lots of other birds made up the cast.

In the afternoon, it was back again to The Ness, inspired by the previous day’s successes. This time I found my first Chiffchaffs of the year. But it was a cold windy day, and nothing else new to report.

28th March. Sitting in the conservatory at home having lunch, I was amazed to see an approaching bird that looked, by its flight, very like a martin. I grabbed the bins, and followed it as it circled over the field a couple of times, revealing a white rump. It was a House Martin, a very early record.

29th March. Sand Martins had been reported at Loch of Skene, so I stopped by there on my way to the Ythan. 5 of them were busily hawking for insects over the water. I was going to the Ythan to try to determine whether there were one or two Bewick’s Swans present, since sightings had been reported at two different places, and also there was the possibility that the bird I had seen the previous week might have been the same one as was there in 2008. I didn’t find any Bewick’s Swans, so the mystery remains for now.

I did however find a Canada Goose at Meikle Loch, another first for the year, and I watched a Fox working its way along the river bank near Waulkmill. In the afternoon, I was back again at Girdleness. A took a widdershins walk round the sewage treatment works. At least five Chiffchaffs greeted me as I went on my way. Two were probably a pair, and another launched into song as I passed. In Nigg Bay, ten Red-breasted Mergansers were displaying to each other. Their neck stretching and head jerking antics were amazing to watch. By now, the weather was deteriorating, the cloud increasing and the wind rising, heralding the arrival of the promised weather system, with more snow and gales. Which is where I started this story. Let’s hope it soon passes.

The Great Grey Shrike is an irregular visitor to the north-east, in fact some years there are no sightings. I was therefore much anticipating the chance to see one, having read the reports that one was lurking in a willow bush by the Dufftown to Rhynie road. This thrush sized bird is also known as the butcher bird, from its custom of impaling its prey such as beetles or small birds, on thorns. I made my way to the location, parked and began searching for it. Eventually I spotted it, hunkered down in the lee of a bush. It was a long way off, only just visible without binoculars. The ‘scope gave better views. It wasn’t doing anything much, just sitting there and looking about. Not the most exciting encounter, but it was nice to get this one on to my year list.

As the wind rose and the rain started, I decided to go for a run around looking for other stuff. The moorland here is a jumble of rocky hills, heather and rough grass, ideal for many species, and worth a better look. The Oystercatchers, Lapwings and Curlews were back, their cries echoing across the valley as I crawled along the road. A small flock of Fieldfares took off, and I watched as they flew across some rough ground. Where they landed, I caught sight of what I casually assumed to be a Rook or a Jackdaw, half hidden in the tufty grass. But it wasn’t, it was a Black Grouse, and soon more heads popped up to look at me. There were about six of them, creeping through the vegetation, sometimes standing up tall for a better look at me. This was another welcome year tick, and will now save me the trouble of a 5am visit to somewhere to look for them. Okay, I may well still do it, to watch their bizarre displays.

I went back to the shrike site for another look, and found it again more easily, and much closer. Another willow bush, the same lack of action, a few record shots taken. I had considered going to Rosehearty to look for a female Black Redstart that was apparently frequenting the harbour, but on reflection, it was taking me a long way from home, and I am becoming increasingly reluctant to burn too much fuel in my quest to see the birds. Anyway, this is one which I will have other opportunities to find as the year goes by. I may just regret saying that come late December. So I went to the Ythan instead, where a Bewick’s Swan had been seen. I searched in vain for a herd of swans grazing in the fields, but most of the fields have been ploughed ready for spring sowing, and the only swans I could find were a few Mute Swans on the river. But I did find four Long-tailed Ducks, three drakes and a duck, doing their synchronised swimming and diving routine, and that was nice to watch.

Ralf, the White-tailed Eagle, has been living around Strathbeg for quite a while now but every time I go to look for him he is nowhere to be seen. Until now. I walked into the Visitor Centre, there were a couple of blokes excitedly watching him, I followed their gaze, and there he was, perched on a fence post about half a mile away. Even at that range I couldn’t miss him. He was huge. There wasn’t a great deal else to look at, but it was nice to see the Black-headed Gulls back. A stiff north-westerly meant I couldn’t open the windows so I had to peer through that frustrating glass. Okay looking straight through, but at any sort of an angle, everything becomes distorted. I picked up a crow that looked suspiciously like a full-blooded Hooded Crow, and later on a Pintail appeared on one of the pools.

I had a quick run round Rattray without getting out of the car. Just the usual stuff. At the Ugie mouth, I ventured out because I really needed to put in some more practice with the new camera (sorry, computer that just happens to take photos). There was a scrap between two drake Mallards that I was able to document.

Peterhead didn’t come up with anything noticeable, so I opted for a quick look at the Bullers of Buchan. It was too cold to linger, but I was happy to see the Kittiwakes back on their nesting ledges.

Apologies for the briefness of the report – it happened more than a week ago, since when I have been suffering from a very unpleasant bug. Now happily de-bugged, I shall be back soon with renewed vigour. Watch this space.

The snow has now gone from the coast, though it still lies feet deep in the upland valleys. I went looking for spring. At home, in spite of the snow, Chaffinches, Woodpigeons and tits were proclaiming the promise of better days. But it was to the coast, as so often, that I headed.

There was warmth in the sun at Nigg Bay. Almost the first bird I saw was a Great Crested Grebe, but still in its winter plumage. So were the three Red-throated Divers. I took a stroll round the Torry Battery, looking for any small bird, and listening for a Skylark. I was disappointed on both counts. Perhaps there would be more life on the Ythan estuary.

There too, it was quieter than usual. On the bend below Waulkmill a flock of several hundred winter plumaged Dunlin was scurrying urgently about on the mud. Something put them up, and the flock disappeared upriver. I thought I heard a Skylark, but it was brief.

I now have a new camera, and I took it for a walk in Danestone Country Park. It is a Canon 7D and I am still a long way from getting the best out of it. A Dipper deep in the cutting of the old mill lade, under trees, was a challenge, but the result was acceptable. Soon, I hope, I will be able to show off some impressive images.

Finally, still looking for signs of spring, I dropped in at Inchgarth Reservoir, always a good bet for finding something interesting. The reservoir was still mostly frozen, but a collection of Oystercatchers, Wigeon, Goosanders and motley gulls made the best of it. Suddenly, a Dunnock climbed up to the top of a bush, blurted out its quick song, and dropped back down out of sight. A touch of spring at last. Walking along the bank of the Dee, I was disappointed not to see a Grey Wagtail. But then, I heard the sharp piping call of a Kingfisher. I looked in vain for the bird, but it eluded me. So spring will have to wait a little longer then.

But no. Next day, I headed south, to Fowlsheugh. Only twenty or so miles south, but on the other side of the Grampians. The weather was identical to yesterday’s, blue sky, light breeze, warming sun. As soon as I stepped out of the car, I could hear Skylarks, several of them. Walking along the clifftop path, several Rock Pipits kept me company. I hadn’t expected to see so many auks on the cliffs, but already most of the ledges were occupied, serried ranks of Guillemots and Razorbills, and groups of cackling Fulmars. Down on the sea too, there were thousands more auks, and between the water and the cliffs the air was filled with flying birds. A Grey Wagtail flew undulating over my head, calling as it went. A complete, and welcome surprise.

Now, I had heard that there were a few Waxwings around, and I set off to find them. Normally, this would be a forlorn hope for me. They are one of my bogey birds, here yesterday, gone today. But not this time. Following rather sketchy directions, it was on my second time through Arbroath that I finally spotted a single Waxwing in a tree at the roadside, just where it was meant to be. Then, on to Forfar, consulted the street map, found the correct road, and there they were, four Waxwings high up in trees. But I couldn’t stop, because of road works. Never mind, I had seen them. I wanted more practice with the new camera, so I went to Forfar Loch, where the birds are both plentiful and accommodating. But it too was almost completely frozen. At least this concentrated the birds in one spot, where I could snap away at Goldeneyes, Mallards and Tufted Ducks. I kept scanning the huge flock of roosting gulls for anything other than the usual ones, and just as it was about time to leave, I saw what I had been hoping for (expecting?), a Lesser Black-backed Gull. Yes, spring really is just around the corner.

One of the things I like about birding is the total unpredictability. You can never tell how a day will turn out, or what you will, or will not see. I wasn’t really looking forward to today. It was bitterly cold and snowy, but I still had to do my second winter visit to my three tetrads around Crathie and Braemar. Where of course it would be even colder and snowier. But they had to be done by the end of the month, and the forecast was for renewed snow to come. So I girded my loins with my thermal underwear and set off up the valley.

It was minus 11°C when I left the car, and the ground was covered in hard packed snow. The trees were sagging under the weight of the snow on their branches, and there was no movement to be seen anywhere. On the plus side, there was not a breath of wind, and the sun was shining out of a deep blue sky. I set off up the road for the ten minute walk to the start of my first tetrad, boots squeaking on the snow. The start of the route took me through a steep sided wooded ravine, deep in shadow. Nothing stirred. I stopped every so often to look and listen, but there was not a bird to be seen. It wasn’t until further on, where the track emerged into sunlight, that I saw my first sign of life. Something fluttered away among the rocks and heather that grew under the old pines by the side of the track. Looked like a Chaffinch. I checked with the bins, but no, it was a Bullfinch, a brilliant male, all rosy pink, grey, black and white. And then there were more of them. A little flock of six kept flying ahead of me, and landing in the heather, and flying on again. Soon I could hear the odd faint call high up in the pines. It sounded like Coal Tits. I watched for movement. Something caught my eye. Not a Coal Tit, much better than that – a Goldcrest. I have an abundance of Coal Tits in the garden, but here was my first Goldcrest of the year. I had been beginning to think they had been unable to survive the long and bitter winter. Soon I saw a second one, and then the Coal Tits too. I was standing in a little patch of sunlight, the warmth welcome on my face.

I pressed on through shadowy forest, ever uphill, finally emerging onto open moorland. The transformation was sudden. From the cold stale frosty air, I moved into a bright sparkling sun drenched winter wonderland. No cloud sullied the brilliant blue of the sky, not even the faintest breath of wind stirred, and all around the snow plastered hills gleamed and glistened. Somewhere to my right, a Buzzard mewed. Then a Crow caa-ed, soon to be joined in a duet by another. By now I was in my second, adjoining tetrad. When I reached a point roughly in the middle of it, I found a convenient boulder to sit on, and stopped there for about twenty minutes. I could hear and see anything that moved. The bulk of Lochnagar towered up in front of me, the coire walls sheathed in snow and ice. Through the binoculars I could see an occasional person moving slowly across the plateau. As I sat there, face burning and bum freezing, I heard the distant call of a Red Grouse. Some small herds of Red Deer were scattered about on the hillsides, their scribbled lines of footprints wandering at random. But that was all there was. The silence was intense, almost palpable. I remembered the last time I had heard silence like that, on top of Bidean nam Bian, in Glencoe. That was a long time ago. I began to drift off, lost in memories.

Finally, I reckoned there was no point in staying any longer, and I set off back down along the snowy track. Back into the dark pinewood, out into the sunny spot, bigger now as the sun had climbed above the southern rim of the valley, and suddenly the chip-chip of Crossbills filled the air. I counted nine in the flock as they yo-yoed across from side to side of the valley. Back down among the houses where I had left the car, there was lots of activity. Blackbirds, tits, Chaffinches, and Robins were all busily bustling about. The temperature was by now a balmy minus 4°C. Time to move on to the next tetrad, further up the valley.

In sharp contrast to my morning’s work, this was much easier. A road runs along both sides of the Clunie, allowing me to cover the whole tetrad without leaving the car. Apart from one small pine plantation, it is all a steep open hillside. I drove very slowly round, twice, stopping as often as I could, to listen and scan for any birds. I had some lunch at the edge of the little plantation, serenaded by several Woodpigeons, and Coal Tits. A pair of crows rowed through the airspace between the steep sides of the valley. Then, on my second time alongside the almost completely ice covered river, I saw the unbelievable. A Dipper was standing on top of a small snow thatched boulder in mid stream. It was probably the same one as I had noted on my first winter visit, back in November. As I watched, it took off and arrowed away downstream, to land on the edge of an ice sheet, where it stood staring down into a little patch of running water. What an astonishing, tough little bird!

Job done, I carried on down towards Braemar (where there was lots of birdy comings and goings) and amazingly, there was another Dipper in midstream. Perhaps they were a pair. And just to complete the day, I spotted a third Dipper on the Dee, near Braemar Castle. I don’t think I have ever seen three separate Dippers in one day before. As I said, birding days can be so unpredictable.

I love it when a plan comes together. (Older readers may remember “The A-Team”) The Moray Website was reporting the King Eider still at Burghead, and a Smew at Loch-na-Bo. That was attractive enough, but I also had a few ideas of my own. The weather forecast showed a band of rain and snow moving south in the forenoon, so I reckoned I would run through it and pop out the other side into some spring sunshine.

It’s quite a long way to Burghead, but it makes a nice change of scenery. The rain soon arrived, turning to snow as I crossed Suie Hill, then the clearance followed as I reached the A96. The sun came out. The plan was working. First stop was Loch Oire, near Lhanbryde, but it was still frozen over, with only a pair of disconsolate swans sitting on the ice. This did not bode well for Loch-na-Bo, and indeed it too was a sheet of ice. I carried on to Lossiemouth where I checked the river estuary. Loads of Wigeons and a few gulls were lined up on the far side of the river. Then it was time to make for Burghead, to see if The King was still there. I went at once to the spot where I had watched it last year, but there wasn’t a bird to be seen. Don’t panic! Look around, it might still be here somewhere. Some gulls were resting on the sea further to the east so I drove slowly along the front until I was opposite them. Almost at once I picked up the King Eider, quite a long way out, with a pair of Common Eiders for company. There were also a few Long-tailed Ducks, always a pleasure to watch. Then I had a look around the harbour, on the other side of the headland, where some Cormorants were drying their wings, perched on the harbour wall.

Continuing westwards, I made my way to Findhorn. The tide was fully in, and there was not a bird to be seen, either from the hide overlooking the bay, or on the sea. So I didn’t linger, but took the road south from Forres to Grantown. I stopped at a lay by on Dava Moor, a section of old road, where I could look and listen. I saw not a bird, but somewhere out on the moor a Red Grouse called, just once. Next, I stopped at Anagach Woods, on the outskirts of Grantown, where I had watched a Crested Tit last year. Knowing they are sedentary birds, I presumed they would still be in the same area. I guess they aren’t that sedentary, because there was no sight or sound of them. The effects of the long hard winter were apparent as I set off along the snowy path through the forest. The ground was littered with broken branches. All sizes from twigs to boughs lay around, where they had been wrenched or snapped off by the weight of snow and the bitter frosts. A few hundred yards into the forest, there was a sudden clattering of wings in the canopy above my head. I looked up in time to glimpse the huge bulk of a capercaillie disappearing further into the trees. It wasn’t the best sighting I’ve ever had of a caper, but it was very welcome.

I still had one more trick up my sleeve. Since the Anagach cresties weren’t playing, I headed for the RSPB centre at Loch Garten. It was closed of course, which actually suited me fine, as I had the place to myself. I knew there would likely be some feeders hanging in the trees outside the building, so I approached stealthily. I needn’t have bothered, since the birds were quite unconcerned at my approach. Mostly Coal Tits and Chaffinches, they busied themselves at the peanuts, and in the surrounding trees. It took me a few minutes to locate a Crested Tit. I had forgotten that they prefer to feed on the ground below the feeders, rather than mix it with their more rumbustuous cousins above. There seemed to be two of them. I watched for a while, taking lots of photos, but under the trees it was really too dim. Even pushing the ISO to 1600, I couldn’t get enough shutter speed to freeze the action. I’ll put the best of them in the gallery anyway, until such time as I have a better opportunity.

On my way home, I stopped at The Lecht, where the skiers were having a bonanza. There were no Snow Buntings that I could see, but a flock of some 20 Red Grouse flew over. And so as the sun slipped below a bank of grey boiling cloud, I headed reluctantly for home. Good plan today eh?

Today, there is just a hint of spring in the valley. The Woodpigeons are cooing in the wood, and the Great Tits are banging on about something, as they do. A flock of some 200 Fieldfares has just flown past, and landed briefly on the trees along the burn, before continuing their journey. Yesterday was somewhat different.

As I drove north along the coast, heading for Strathbeg, the rain was sheeting down. But the thermometer was registering 9°, the highest it has been all year. It wasn’t going to last though. Beyond the cold front, the sky was pale green, then blue, and the temperature began to drop steadily. The wind swung from south west to north, and showers climbed out of the Buchan sea. It was going to be a rough day.

Before calling at Strathbeg, I had a look around Fraserburgh, to see what was on the sea. I could see very little at first. I was parked at the water’s edge along the Phingask shore, looking out across a maelstrom of flying foam and crashing waves. The car rocked alarmingly as the wind tore into it. It was almost impossible to hold the glasses steady enough to find any birds. Shelter was called for, and found near the lighthouse. From here, I could see better. Eiders bobbed and vanished in the swell, gulls and Fulmars swept back and fore, and further out, scores of Gannets were fishing. The next shower was approaching from the north. Beyond a certain point, the sea just vanished, engulfed in a grey wall of rain, above which rose a raven black cloud, stretching right across the horizon. And in front of the blackness the Gannets soared, banking, twisting, turning and diving, white arrows glistening against the darkness.

Maybe Fraserburgh Bay would be even more sheltered. Not really, but at least I was able to get out of the car and take cover with a building at my back. A flock of 50 Black-headed Gulls loafed at the water’s edge. I scanned idly through them. Surely that one had white wing tips? Couldn’t get a good view of the bill. A Mediterranean Gull then? How ironic, in this Arctic weather. I nipped back to the car for the telescope. Disaster. No tripod. I managed as best I could, bracing the ‘scope against a pillar. Most of the gulls had gone. Now they were resting on the rocks about a hundred metres away at the end of the beach. Almost at once, I re-found the white winged one, waited until it had stopped preening, and finally managed to get a clear view of the bill. Med Gull confirmed.

By this time last year, I had seen both Meadow and Rock Pipits, so I kept my eyes open as I drove south to Cairnbulg. No pipits. Maybe the long cold has driven them elsewhere this year. The harbour at Cairnbulg was exposed, but there were birds to see. Various waders crouched among the boulders, and flocks of Starlings swept storm tossed along the shoreline. Then, just before I had decided to move on, I saw a lone bird bobbing about in the harbour. It was a Brent Goose, pale bellied variety, looking very lonely. Time to go to Strathbeg. There wasn’t much to see. A few thousand Pink-footed Geese had stayed on the reserve, and among them I could pick out four Barnacle Geese. But that was it. No sign of any Snow Geese, or of Ralf, the White-tailed Eagle,

I decided to have a quick look around Rattray in case the geese were there. As I drove along, a Peregrine flew across the road, toured round a couple of fields and disappeared from view. I found some geese flocks, but they were all pinkies. Peterhead was equally non productive, apart from having to stop to avoid six Turnstones on the road at one point. The rain came on again, heavier than ever, darkness was approaching, and I set off to fight with the teatime traffic.

11th January 2010. A Stroll in the Park.

The snow of the past few weeks is starting to thaw. It was a still, grey day with the temperature hovering around freezing when I went for a wander round Seaton Park. Only a mile from the sea, and bordered by the River Don, it is a useful place for a quiet stroll. The car park and most of the paths was a sheet of ice, the open grassy areas still under a foot of snow. But under the trees it was relatively snow free, so I set off gingerly along the riverside path to see what was what. Tits were calling high up in the branches, and Blackbirds were rummaging about in the leaf litter. I walked on, carefully avoiding the icy patches. Then, ahead of me, a flock of finches flew up into the high beeches. I cursed myself for not spotting them sooner, when they were on the ground. Most of them were Chaffinches, but soon I was seeing orange shoulders and white rumps and nodding with satisfaction as I noted my first Bramblings of the year. More movement among the fallen leaves led me to a Redwing, a very bright well marked individual.

The Don at this point is reliable for Goosanders, Goldeneyes and Red-breasted Mergansers, and I was not disappointed. I retraced my steps, following close to the river bank, hoping for Dipper or Grey Wagtail. Neither showed. The steep slope below the imposing bulk of St. Machar’s Cathedral looked promising as I followed the damp overgrown ditch that runs along the foot of the slope. More Redwings and other thrushes grubbed around, and a Wren scolded me as I passed. Then something flew up from the ditch and zig-zagged off into the grey sky. It was too far away to be sure, but I thought Common Snipe. I continued trudging through the deep, crusted snow, and back to the car for some lunch.

Later in the day I stopped at Danestone Country Park, a few miles further upstream from Seaton. But by then it was growing dark, the steep path down to the river was icy, and so I decided not to chance going further. As I stood looking down at the raging swollen river, a couple of female Bullfinches appeared. With feathers fluffed up against the cold, they looked like a child’s drawing of a bird, perfectly round, with beak, tail and feet stuck on in the right places.

25th January 2010. Forfar Country Park.

More snow has arrived and the Cairn o’Mount road remains closed. Nevertheless, I had determined to have a day in Angus, so I took the long way round, and made for Forfar Loch. Here at least, there was no snow, but half the loch was frozen. Still, the other half wasn’t, and it was alive with waterfowl. My pencil was busy as I recorded Coot, Moorhen, Gadwall, Pochard, Shoveler, and Greylag, all new for the year. Four swans flew over, on strong silent wings. A quick check with the binoculars confirmed that they were indeed Whooper Swans. Sadly, I must have been too late for the Smew and the Black-throated Diver, both of which had been in the news for a few days. Or maybe they were just keeping a low profile. I didn’t mind too much, it was just great to see so many birds in one place. The trees and bushes along the banks were busy too, but as far as I could see, only common woodland species.

I wondered about going to Kinnordy, but I had heard it was still frozen, so instead I set off for Montrose Basin. On the way, I passed Rescobie and Balgavies, both ice covered and deserted. The tide was out at the Basin, as I sat in car having a bit to eat. Soon, a Little Grebe swam past, as I knew would happen. I went for a short walk along the riverbank and stopped to scan the whole place with the ‘scope. All the usual suspects were there, including a large herd of Whoopers, a flock of geese, both Greylag and Pink-footed. A gathering of Teal gave me my 79th year tick. I finished the day with a tour round Ferryden and Usan, but it was very quiet.

It was hard work but worth the effort. I finally managed to dig the car out from its snowy den, and get it onto the road. Now for some birds, any birds, just to get the year list going. I headed off towards the coast, picking up some common stuff on the way, like Collared Dove, House Sparrow, Starling and Jackdaw. The roads were fine, unless you wanted to pull off onto the verge.

Girdleness was almost free of snow, but sheathed in ice. That made walking about tricky, so I didn’t bother trying. There were a few winter visitors about, like Mistle Thrush and Fieldfares, poking about on the green green grass of Balnagask. The usual suspects were on the sea and the rocks – gulls, ducks and waders. But no Rock Pipits!

I headed off to Newburgh and the Ythan estuary. More common ducks and waders were added to the list. Several thousand Pink-footed Geese flew over, heading north, in one huge skein, the long straggling v formations overlapping and interchanging. Quite a sight! Driving along the main street, a flash of turquoise crossed the road before flying into the field station trees – a very welcome Kingfisher. Further up river at the Snub, a small flock of Ringed Plovers were running about on the mud.

I went off looking for the flock of Whooper Swans that is usually around, but no luck. There was a lot more snow here and all the lochs were frozen. I drove through Collieston and back without seeing anything new, but passing the Forvie Centre road end, a small flock in the trees grabbed my attention. Chaffinches, Greenfinches, and, yes, Tree Sparrows. Now that was good to see. Further on I had to stop to allow another car to squeeze past, and while I was waiting I spotted a small black shape in the middle of a large unblemished snow covered field. Now what could that be? I had a look through the bins. It looked, from the shape, like a partridge, all fluffed up. Grey or Red-legged? I dug out the scope for a better look, resting it on the window sill. Oh wow, it was a Merlin! A crow was hanging around, hopefully. Some small leftovers lying on the snow at its feet showed that it had just finished lunch. Although the Merlin was over a hundred metres away, it had clearly noticed me, and wasn’t very happy about it. It took off and flew fast and low across the field and out of sight.

It was growing dark, more snow was forecast and I had a shopping list to deal with on the way home, so I called it a day, well satisfied with my tally of 53 species.

1st January 2010. Hi! It’s me again. Another day, another decade ,another year list. Happy New Year and all that, to all my readers. I hope you are having a nice, bird filled day out somewhere. Me, I’m stuck at home, behind a wall of snow that’s getting higher all the time. Still, the birding’s not bad really. I have the advantage of a comfy chair in the study, cups of fresh tea, and music in the background. Today, it’s the soundtrack from Blade Runner. The birds have been fed, and it’s been pandemonium all day in the garden.

Everybody has mastered the business of clinging on to the feeders, even the shy Dunnocks, and the Robins. The Blackbirds have been hogging the suet cake. My four mad Magpies have found the heap of peanuts I scattered under the willow bush, and they are busy stuffing their beaks with them and flying off to cache them somewhere else. Slightly worrying is the total absence of Siskins and Goldfinches – they were there a few days ago.

A Grey Heron passed along the valley, following the line of the Cattie burn, and a Sparrowhawk passed by without stopping. Now it is snowing again, falling thickly from a grey and orange clouded sky and it is growing too dark to see any more. 15 species for the day is about what I expected given the weather conditions. I guess I’ll have to be satisfied with that.

A long time ago, in a far distant decade, there lived a young boy who loved snow and ice, even when it involved sledging in shorts (he was too young to own long trousers) and having lumps of snow shoved down his neck by his pals. Later, as he grew older, he would spend his winters skiing and climbing in Scotland’s hills. He never seemed to feel the cold. Now that he is a curmudgeonly old codger, he no longer revels in clear crisp days, and tends to hug the fireside unless there is a good chance of seeing some desirable bird. He has taken up birding, even to the extent of carrying out occasional surreptitious twitches.

So, this morning when he nipped outside to refill the bird feeders in his garden, he was rather pleased to be greeted by a waft of double digit centigrade zephyr. He went for a short stroll. There was a great deal of avian activity to see and hear. A Woodpigeon was calling continuously – not the usual dreamy soft cooing, but a hard, insistent, this fine weather may not last type of call. A pair of Buzzards were displaying to each other, high over the forest, their mottled brown and white plumage gleaming in the low sunlight. But most of the action was in and around the garden, where the food was. The resident Woodpeckers were behaving territorially, chasing each other through the trees, while dozens of tits and finches got on quietly with the job of emptying the feeders. Even a Treecreeper put in a brief appearance on the rowan tree.

All too soon, the sun dipped, the temperature dropped, the birds went to roost, and the old man went and made a cup of tea, and lit his fire. And friends, I know all this is a true and accurate account, because I once was that young boy, and now the old man. And perhaps because, for a couple of hours, I was able to reach out and feel Nature’s touch, just a little bit the better for it.

You will be wondering why I haven’t written anything for a while. Two reasons really, firstly, there hasn’t been a lot happening on the birdy front, and secondly I’m having my annual bout of SAD. Some days are OK, others, I just can’t be bothered doing anything much. It’ll pass.

Last Friday I made the effort to go and see a King Eider at Burghead. That is quite a long way to go, but the weather was good, if chilly, and it was worth the effort, because I found the bird, a cracking adult male, bobbing about on the choppy waters of the Moray Firth. It was a wee bit too far out for making any decent photos though, and I had to make do with views through the scope. I came home via Dava Moor (heard a Red Grouse calling) and Grantown, but by now it was turning showery and colder. There was new snow on the Cairngorms.

Then, on Monday, I had an hour or so at Girdleness, but the only thing of note was a very late Red Admiral butterfly.

After last week’s epic trek, it was a relief to be doing a tetrad largely viewable from the car. Lower Glen Clunie has a road running alongside both sides of the Clunie with plenty places to stop look and listen. It soon became clear that the few birds that were willing to remain over winter in the Braemar area were not prepared to leave the shelter of human habitation. As soon as I left the last house behind, it was birdless. Well, not quite. The first stop I made, to scan the fast flowing river, resulted in a disappearing Dipper. Now it was there, perched on a rock, then it was gone, only to re-appear again, bouncing up and down before flying off upstream. Nice one! I drove on, went round a bend in the narrow road, and disturbed a Buzzard feeding on a rabbit carcase. Then I had a twenty minute stroll through a mixed conifer plantation. I kept hearing little squeaks, but couldn’t locate the source. After a bit I realised it was my left boot.

A long lunch later, at a place where I had a good view over a large part of the valley, produced nary a bird. Ah well, time to move on, so I crossed the river and drove down the other side. A stop at Auchallater produced a couple of flyover Meadow Pipits, then further on, two Buzzards were sitting in a bare birch tree. One of them might well have been the rabbit scoffing one from earlier. There ended the bird count. I can see the place being much more productive in the spring, but meantime I have another winter visit to make.

16th November 2009. I Get Twitchy Feet.

There has been a Turtle Dove in Collieston for a few days. There has also been some debate as to its precise identification, but eventually this came down to the more usual European species. Not a mega rarity, but a nice bird for this part of the country. I went for a look see. I looked where it had been last reported, and briefly in the rest of the village, but I guess it was gone – or possibly lurking in someone’s garden, or someone’s cat.

An Iceland Gull was also an attraction, having been seen in Peterhead. I spent a couple of hours there, checking round the harbour, where there were as usual throngs of gulls, but no white ghostly gull. So, as the weather went rapidly downhill, I sped off to Girdleness, where there was a small flock of Snow Buntings in the Greyhope Bay car park. It was raining heavily when I arrived, but hey, the reports were well founded, as seven little angels defied the weather and chomped happily on some corn that someone had kindly put down. They were very confiding, and let me drive up quite close, enabling a few reasonably nice photos, in spite of the rain, and near darkness.

It’s time again for another round of Timed Tetrad Visits (TTVs) for the British Trust for Ornithology (BTO) Bird Atlas 2008-2011. The tetrads I have volunteered for this time are all in upper Deeside, and consist mainly of open heather moorland, some pine forest, and lots of burns and streams. Two of them are on Balmoral Estate, in the foothills of Lochnagar, and since I have to go through one to reach the other, I can cover both in one day.

My route started up a steep track, through rocky pine forest, before levelling out and crossing the moor. A few Blue and Coal Tits called in the forest, and a Blackbird sounded its alarm call. A couple of Crossbills flew over. Out on the moor, it was quiet. There was scarcely a breath of wind, and the mist hung low over the tops. Away to the west, I could see patches of fresh snow on the higher Cairngorms. A Carrion Crow barked his displeasure at my intrusion. After a bit of searching, I spotted him, perched on the skyline. Somewhere to my right, a couple of Buzzards were having a mewing match. Then a small flock of Meadow Pipits flew over, calling, before going to ground and vanishing in the heather. I crossed from my first tetrad to my second, all the time reaching further into the hills.

Away in the distance, I could see Gelder Shiel and Bothy, snug in their little stand of pines and larches. I watched through the binoculars as a Range Rover went slowly along the track towards the buildings. Nine Carrion Crows came out of the trees and drifted away across the hillside. The Range Rover came back and passed me. It is nearly half a century since I have been to Gelder Shiel, and arriving there certainly brought back memories. Memories of some scary winter climbs and times on Lochnagar came flooding back. If I’m honest, I don’t deserve to be here today to talk about it. The bothy is now in the care of the Mountain Bothy Association, and gone are the rough cobbled floor and the pony stalls. Now there are bunks, tables and chairs – almost comfortable. The Gelder Shiel itself was locked and shuttered as always of course, since it is one of the Royal Family’s picnic places. I did notice though that there are now solar panels on the roof. As I had my lunch, the crows returned from their trip across the moor and a couple of small birds flew over the trees. I had expected more there. Maybe come next spring there will be.

I retraced my steps for a few hundred metres, and turned off onto another track, before following a narrow path along the stream bank. I was half hoping for a Dipper, but there was no sign of one. A couple of Red Grouse shot out of the heather and flew away cackling. Surprisingly, they were the only ones I was to see all day. The path went past the ruins of two ancient houses. They were surrounded by flat grassy areas by the water’s edge, probably used as summer grazings in days gone by. Two crows sat in an old birch tree. One of them was a Hooded Crow, or at least a Carrion x Hooded hybrid. I couldn’t approach close enough to be absolutely sure. The path deteriorated, and then vanished in a bog. I pressed on, managing to stick my foot into a wet hole. Cold water, soaked up to my knee. Another flock of Meadow Pipits appeared and flew around calling, before landing. By now I was back in my first tetrad. I wanted to spend some more time in the forest, but a towering deer fence was in the way. So I followed along it until I came to an equally high gate. It was padlocked, the wooden bars slippery as soap, and covered in wire mesh. I climbed over carefully, out of consideration for both Her Majesty’s property, and my own safety. The woods were silent and apparently birdless. One more gate later, and I was back on the track by which I had set out, and heading back to the car and a welcome cup of tea.

On the way home, I came across two huge flocks of Fieldfares, totalling some 630 birds. One flock was in a grass field doing nothing very much, and the other was more scattered, raiding rowan trees, constantly on the move. I reported them as Roving Records and got the inevitable “unusually high count” message. Considering the impressive arrival and movement of winter thrushes in Deeside over the last couple of weeks, I don’t think the count was unusually high at all. Still, I suppose these things have to be highlighted, in case of errors.

The Richard’s Pipit is a scarce vagrant to our shores, with Girdleness being one of the better places along the east coast to record it. The bird is named after a relatively unknown 19th century French naturalist, Monsieur Richard, so the alternative name of “Dickspip” among members of the birding fraternity is perhaps a trifle misplaced.
The arrival of one on the edge of Balnagask Golf Course, over the weekend was a welcome attraction for many local birders, and it put on a good show, staying faithful to a patch of rough grass by St. Fittick’s Road. It was not until today that I was free to go and look for it, and I couldn’t help wondering how hard it would be to find the bird. Nobody else was there when I arrived, so I would have to my own hunting. I set off across the grass, walking slowly, and it wasn’t long before a couple of birds rose up and flew to the far side of the patch. One was bigger than the other, which was interesting. I headed towards where they had landed, and soon spotted a large pipit on the ground. It had an upright, thrush like stance, head turned to one side, watching me warily. I remained where I was, but suddenly it took off, passing overhead with a sparrow like chirrup. I noted where it landed, and went back to the car to fetch my camera. I hadn’t expected a photo opportunity, but it now looked possible. I soon relocated the bird, fortunately standing more or less clear of any long vegetation, and I was able to take a number of shots.
The rest of my time at The Ness was spent around Greyhope Bay and The Coo. It was high tide, and the waders were congregating on the rocks. I counted 31 Turnstones, 8 Ringed Plovers, about 100 Oystercatchers, including the albino one known as The Freak, and 146 Purple Sandpipers. Two of them were ringed.

Some birds live solitary lives, while others spend much of their time in flocks. Autumn is a good time to witness the spectacle of flocking birds, be it geese, waders, thrushes, swans or foraging tits.

I had gone barely a mile from home when I was aware of a lot of birdy activity on Potarch Green. I stopped for a better look. In the grey drizzly dawn light, the trees surrounding the Green were alive with Redwings. These were the Scandinavian ones, as opposed to the darker more striking Icelandic ones, and they were here for the winter to raid our berries and bring sound and movement to a sometimes dead landscape.
As I tried to estimate how many there were, a low flying jet aircraft splintered the air above us, and sent the whole flock into turmoil. It was only then that I realised just how many birds there were, probably several hundreds. But as they flew around, soon returning to the trees, it was impossible to be more accurate than that. Then they spilled down onto the grass, covering an area the size of half a football pitch. Maybe there were more than I had thought. But it doesn’t really matter. I just sat and looked and listened. Every Rowan tree had its contingent of Redwings, greedily plucking at the berry feast, then flying off to a neighbouring tree for a bit, while others took their place. The sound was incredible. A constant low murmur filled the air, and I was sitting right in the middle of it, becoming a part of it. This is how I like my birding – total immersion in the nature, without the distractions of other bits of human activity. Me and my environment, in harmony, belonging, together.

One objective of the day was to return to Girdleness to see if I could re-find the Firecrest, and obtain some photos. When I arrived there, it was to find a stiff north wind blowing off the sea, and little sign of any birds. Even the common migrants had moved on. So I took the hint, and moved on also, to Newtonhill, another migrant hot spot further down the coast. Here, it was more sheltered, and I could see lots of movement in the trees and bushes. There seemed to have been an influx of Blackbirds. Lots of tits were foraging in the branches, and Wrens and Robins kept up a constant conversation. Surely there must be something a bit rare among them all. Well, almost. Looking at birds from below, it is never so easy to identify them. The Bird Guides don’t provide illustrations from that angle. I thought I was looking at yet another female Chaffinch, but something wasn’t quite right. So I persevered, until my neck was aching. Then the bird turned, to reveal a nice female Blackcap. Alas, there were no more goodies, so I left.

It’s a while since I have been to Loch of Kinnordy, so I hit the A90, set the cruise control at 70, and relaxed for the next half hour. Why Kinnordy? Well, a Bittern had been seen there, and also I had read reports of the Starling roost. The Bittern was a long shot, but the Starlings should be reliable. The Gullery hide was quite busy, with several people coming and going, talking in those annoying loud whispers, and taking endless photographs. It was way too dull for worthwhile photography, and my camera stayed in the car. Eventually, as it grew dark, I was left in peace. There was no sign of the Bittern. After two hours of staring at the reed beds I knew every stem intimately. A few Water Rails called, a couple of Shovelers pottered about in front of the hide, and the Teal and Wigeon whistled to each other. Four Starlings flew across, and vanished. Half an hour later, there were four thousand of them. Not the biggest Starling roost in the country, but impressive enough. They wheeled across the sky, turning, separating, condensing into a tight ball, then stringing out into long lines. All the time there was an accompanying background of twitters and squeaks, and the sudden soft rush of wings as they swept past the hide. Bit by bit, groups broke off, and cascaded down into the reed beds, a stream of blackness pouring from an invisible jug. And then, suddenly, the last of them fell too, and the spectacle was over. The sky was empty, and I was surrounded by silence.

You wait ages for one to come along, and then there are two of them. All birders admit to having blockers, birds that for one reason or another they have yet to see. They are not necessarily rare or even uncommon birds. I have several, and one of them is the Firecrest. Or rather, was, because I have now seen not one, but two of them on the same day. The first one was at Forvie. I had read a report detailing its whereabouts, but it still took quite a bit of searching to find it. Trying to spot Britain’s smallest bird in thick trees is never easy. My hopes were raised when a Goldcrest flitted past (Britain’s equally smallest bird, and closely related to the Firecrest). Nice, but not quite what I had in mind. Then another tiny bird flashed past, landed on a branch for a moment, to reveal a striking stripy head. Then it was gone, but I had seen enough to know what it was. My first Firecrest. If last week’s Glossy Ibis was a bit of a disappointment, this was just the opposite. I kept watching, and soon it reappeared, giving better views.
Feeling quite euphoric, I decided to have a look at Cruden Bay woods. Since there had been several days of south easterly wind and rain, the prospects were good for a fall of migrants. But not at Cruden Bay. While I was there, I learned of another rarity, this time at Girdleness. A Dusky Warbler, a much sought after Siberian bird, that ought to be on its way to south east Asia to pass the winter there. So, off I sped. I had a quick look at Balmedie Country Park but it was raining heavily, and there was nothing showing. When I arrived at Girdleness, a few birders were mooching around, not a very good sign. So I had a mooch around as well, but none of us found anything. I decided to walk the length of the north bank, where it was more sheltered from the brisk wind. Not for my benefit of course, but I reckoned that would be where any sensible bird would go for shelter. A few Robins, Goldcrests, Redwings and Song Thrushes later, not forgetting three ringed Cormorants whose details were noted down, and I was back on the road, heading towards the car park. But what is this? Birders looking intently down the slope where I had been just half an hour earlier. It turned out the elusive warbler, now re-identified as a Radde’s Warbler, had possibly been seen. There was also a Firecrest in the undergrowth. I saw the Firecrest, but none of us found the warbler. So after a final tour round the Battery it was time to call it a day.

12th October 2009. After two most enjoyable weeks in Norfolk, it was back to the bread and butter stuff of NE Scotland. Not that Norfolk produced that many birds for me, but since it is not relevant to this diary, I’ll say no more. I had a few hours to pass in Aberdeen, so I went to Girdleness to see what was happening on the migrant front. A walk round The Battery yielded a few birds, Robins, Blackbirds and Dunnocks, some of them probably migrants. Then I tried a bit of sea watching. Again it was quiet, but I did spot three Shags wearing rings on their legs. So I sent off the details to the Grampian Ringing Group, and got a reply saying that the birds had been ringed on the Isle of May last year. Well travelled Shags then. I had a bite of lunch in the car park at Nigg Bay, where I watched two crows spending twenty minutes pecking to death an injured Black-headed Gull. Not a pretty sight indeed, but that’s nature at work.

14th October 2009. When I was in Norfolk, I could have taken the opportunity to see a Glossy Ibis - if I had had the foresight to make a note of where exactly it was. I could have made enquiries when I was there of course, but I didn’t. Couldn’t be bothered really. So it was a nice surprise on my return, to discover that there was one present near the Loch of Strathbeg . Today, I went to find it. And I did, just where it had been reported, in a field at the side of the St. Combs road. Actually, to be honest, I was slightly underwhelmed by the bird. Perhaps it was the lack of a challenge in either finding, or identifying the bird, but all I could think of was a rather well cooked curlew that had just had a close encounter of the brick wall kind. Dull brown with a sharply decurved bill, just standing there, looking a bit lost, and probably wondering what it was doing in NE Scotland. (I've put a photo in the Birds Gallery)

After that, I dropped in to the Visitor Centre at Starnafin. Oops, it was the school holidays. A group of children were having a great time with hammers and nails, making bird boxes. Conversation was well nigh impossible. But after a bit they went outside for lunch, and I could hear the birds. Not that there was anything unusual there, just loads of geese, Dunlins, Lapwings and so on. So I headed off to Rattray, saw a couple of Stonechats in the dunes, and three Swallows hawking for insects when they should have been half way to Africa, and had a look at the sea. My next stop was at Battery Park in Peterhead – more sea watching. But I got a very nice surprise, when a Chiffchaff suddenly appeared on the fence right in front of me. It flew up and down the fence for a bit, then it was gone.

Finally, I ended up at The Inches on the Ythan estuary. All the expected birds were there, and just as I was about to call it a day, I noticed a grebe diving. I watched it for a while, noting the plumage details (whatever it was, it was in winter plumage, so less familiar to me) and finally decided on Slavonian Grebe. Or Horned Grebe if you are transatlantic. That was a very nice ending to an exceptionally mild autumn day.

Right, here’s the problem. After weeks of hardly anything exciting happening, suddenly there are reports of a considerable movement of birds at Girdleness – skuas, shearwaters, ducks and divers, even a few migrants around the Battery. Ah, but also, there is a Lesser Yellowlegs at Loch of Strathbeg. I lay awake all night (slight exaggeration there) trying to decide where to go on the morrow. Then, as the first cool fingers of dawn crept into the bedroom, the solution hit me. It was a no brainer really. Do both.

First then, to Strathbeg, all the while wondering if this one bird would still be there when I arrived. It was, a beautiful elegant wader all the way from N. America. Actually, it looked a bit like a stretched out Redshank that had been paddling in a bowl of custard. I watched it for a while, in spite of the distraction of rather noisy repairs being done to the remote camera system. Then it was off back down south again, stopping at Peterhead for a quick sea watch whilst grabbing a bite of lunch. Quiet it was, with scarcely a passing bird, other than some flocks of Golden Plovers flashing in the sun as they sped southwards.

When I arrived at Girdleness, I quickly realised I had done the right thing. It was practically dead. A few distant Gannets, and some very distant dots that might have been something interesting if I could have managed to have a proper look at them. Nothing round The Battery. I could have done it the other way round of course, but then I might have been tempted to stay all day at The Ness, hoping things would improve, and never had time to go for the Yellowlegs.

Let me explain. The woods referred to are the Anagach Woods at Grantown 0n Spey, and Heather is the Heather Hopper, a trans- Cairngorm summer bus service run by Stagecoach.

Since we are being urged to make more use of public transport, I thought I would give it a try. Save fuel, save money, save our environment. Well, I saved my fuel, I saved my money, thanks to my free bus pass, but I doubt if it was in any way environmentally beneficial.

I joined the bus at Ballater. It was a big bus, a nice comfy modern bus, and there were four passengers. En route we made a twelve mile detour to Bellabeg in Strathdon, to pick up absolutely no passengers. By the time we reached Tomintoul, there were only two of us. But it was a very pleasant journey, and I could see far more than I normally do when I am driving. I kept a bird list. Lots of Meadow Pipits, Swallows, crows, Wood Pigeons, a few Buzzards, a Red Grouse and a couple of Ravens – not too bad. We had to change buses at Tomintoul. The next leg of the journey, to Grantown on Spey, was in a much older vehicle, only a 70 seater, with incredibly narrow seats. There was a constant smell of burning rubber, so I was glad to get off when we reached Grantown. I had a seat by the river, listening to the tits and Robins in the trees, and watching a small party of Red-breasted Mergansers on the water. Then it was off into the woods, following a network of paths, large and small. A carved sign by the entrance showed Capercaillie, Red Squirrel and Crested Tit – I thought I would be happy to see any two of them.

Four hours later, I had had lunch watching an enormous spider attending to its web, listened to the rattling wings of a huge dragonfly, seen a flock of Mistle Thrushes flying through the trees, been buzzed by a Buzzard, watched a Roe Deer, a Tree Creeper and a Great Spotted Woodpecker, been showered by debris from a Red Squirrel, and finally, just as I was leaving the woods, and thinking it was all over, a couple of Crested Tits.

All that remained was a nice relaxing bus run back to Ballater. Hold it right there. The bus arrived, a rickety, rattling affair, that wailed and squealed like a Banshee all the way to Tomintoul. The next bus, the one that was destined to negotiate the steep gradients and hairpin bends of The Lecht, was a miniature version of the previous one. The driver kindly warned me before we set off that I might find it a bit bumpy. It was and I did. All that effort and expense just for me. The last lap was in my own car, quiet, smooth and nice music to listen to.

So was it worth it? I had to leave behind most of what I would normally have taken – scope, tripod, big camera and lenses, and go with just binoculars, notebook and lunch. That worked OK, this time. Was it environmentally friendly? I don’t think so. Will I do it again? If I could be sure of a “proper” bus, I think I might. But it was a different day out. Thank you Heather.

Spotted Redshank Spotted

By ALBIE McINITUP

The Ythan Eye can exclusively report that one of our rarest birds was spotted yesterday on the shore of the River Ythan estuary. The Spotted Redshank Tringa erythropus is a very rare visitor to North-East Scotland. It lays its eggs in the bogs of the high arctic, and is only occasionally seen here on migration.

Local twitcher Ken Sittaa (69) explained how he came to find the bird: “I was just checking out all the birds up and down the river, looking for something interesting or unusual”, he said. “Then I noticed this slim, spotty long-legged one, feeding next to a Common Redshank. I took a few photographs of it just to make sure of the identification, but I was pretty sure it was a Spotshank.”

When asked if he had seen one of these before, he admitted: “Well, I have, but only when someone else has pointed them out to me. In the summer they are black, so quite easy to see. This is the first time I have found one all by myself. It was rather exciting.”

A new month and let’s hope it’s more productive than August was. Time for an excursion to Strathbeg, spurred on by the presence there of a White-winged Black Tern, and the fact that I had some photos to put in the visitors’ photo album. But first, I went to the Cairnbulg, St. Combs, Inverallochy stretch of coastline, for a bit of sea watching. The Gannets and the Fulmars were out in droves, but sadly, not a skua or petrel or shearwater. Never mind, there were lots of nice waders roosting at high water among the rocks. 5 Swifts passed overhead, hurrying south. I was parked at the water’s edge, with my lens sticking out of the car window, happily snapping away, when another car pulled up not far away. The driver too began photographing the birds from the car window. Then a third car arrived, parked a bit further away, the three occupants got out, and all the birds took to the air. It was as if a Peregrine or something had appeared.

After that, I moved to Strathbeg, and had a look from the Visitor Centre. I spent ages searching through the Dunlin flock for the Curlew Sandpiper that someone had said was there, but it must have gone. But there was a Marsh Harrier to admire, a Peregrine that put everything to flight, and a Little Egret. There was no sign of the Tern, which wasn’t surprising, since it was favouring the loch, out of range of most optics. That meant I had to drive round to the Fen Hide. It was empty, which I rather liked, but it also meant it was up to me to find the tern. If indeed it was there. There is a small manmade island some distance out from the hide, and that was said to be the spot when it wasn’t flying around. The island was covered in birds - ducks, swans and various terns. Now I must explain that the appellation “white-winged black tern” applies only to the summer plumaged adult. I was looking for a juvenile bird, one annoyingly similar to a juvenile Common or Arctic Tern. The birds kept moving around, and I was getting only the briefest of views of any individual, a head, a back, never a complete bird, but after about an hour of staring down the barrel of a telescope, I found what I was looking for. Smaller than the other juveniles, darker winged, and with slightly different head markings. An adult Common Tern landed next to it, and the size difference was really obvious. Suddenly I realised there were thousands of Teal and Wigeon on the loch, all whistling their approval. I had been oblivious to them before. But I was later than I had meant to be, so I had to set off on the long road home, but happier than I had felt for a long time.

For a while now I’ve been struggling to find the right words to describe my birding adventures. Maybe it’s down to the fact that there has been nothing of an adventurous nature to record, because it really is very unexciting at the moment. A trickle of autumn migrants has swelled to a respectable number, but only the common species have so far graced our estuaries and shores. An hour or so spent at Newburgh was pleasant and relaxing, and I got a few nice photos of the Dunlin. I was whiling away the afternoon watching the tide go out, and the little flocks of waders come and go, when along came Mr Peregrine and put the whole lot to flight. There was no sign of the waders returning, so I decided to move to another spot.
I am rather fond of a bit of classical music. But now as I sat in the car at The Inches, I found myself listening to a very special symphony. Lapwing, Redshank, Curlew and Oystercatcher harmonised beautifully – not too loud or too animated, just very tranquil. Then an Osprey came wandering down river looking for a snack, and sent my choir packing. A Small Tortoiseshell butterfly on the grass was very obliging and let me take several photos.

There’s not a lot to be seen in the way of birds at the moment, unless you go to the coast. The two exceptions I can think of are my garden, which is full of activity mostly at great financial cost, and the Tarland Hide. Well, not the hide itself, but just along the road, where I have finally found the knack of hearing Quail. Round about nine of an evening, two or three have been calling in a barley field, so at last I know what they sound like. But when it comes to actually seeing them they are worse than Corncrakes.

So it has to be the coast, and that means north or south. The Ythan or Montrose. I chose Montrose this time, with its pleasant walk along the western edge of The Basin, by the oddly named “The Lurgies” and a look into the equally strange “The Slunks”, where a small muddy stream joins the main river. The first flush of returning waders seems to have dispersed for now, but there will be many more to come. I counted barely 10 Common Sandpipers, and only a few Curlews or Redshanks. But it was the Greenshanks that I was most keen to see, in particular to watch out for any ringed specimens. Information is being sought on their whereabouts, and this is something I can do. Well, I located 5 of them, but only one was ringed. The details were duly noted, and will be passed on. While I was there, an Osprey flew over, carrying a fish in its talons. Nothing unusual there of course, but it wasn’t until I looked closely at the inevitable photos I had taken, that I noticed the fish appeared to be some sort of skate or ray. I’ll stick a photo in the gallery, and you can decide for yourself.

I went on to Usan, and then Lunan Bay, with the intention of doing a bit of sea watching, but apart from an impressive number of Gannets, quite close in, and the usual terns, there was nothing remarkable. Certainly none of the skuas I was so keen to see. Of course, the strong offshore wind was far from ideal. So I went back to The Lurgies for another walk along the raised sea wall.

I got speaking to another birder, at the old jetty, and he said he had seen a Yellow-legged Gull further upstream. This is a very scarce bird in north east Scotland, but they do seem to be spreading northwards, so I kept an open mind, and headed off along the path to have a look. What I did find, in the hundred or so strong flock, was a bird that looked very pale for a Lesser Black-backed Gull, but still too dark for a Yellow-legged Gull. Even with the arrival of another experienced birder, the question was not resolved. I feel I’ve got to err on the side of caution, and put it down as a LBBG. Gulls, don’t you just love them?

One of the attractions of going south, to Angus, is the drive across the Cairn o’Mount. I stopped on the way back to take some photos from the top of the hill, looking back to Montrose and Scurdie Ness Lighthouse. The low evening light was very enticing. One more for the Landscape Gallery.

This was the one Sunday in the year when the Barry Buddon Ranges are opened to the public, giving the army a day off. 79 people turned up to take advantage of the opportunity – birders, botanists and lepidopterists, and some who were a bit of all three. I should be grateful to those who organised the outing (and I am) but there really was too big a crowd for any serious birding. I was there as a member of Angus and Dundee Bird Club, that very friendly and active bunch from south of Aberdeen.
After the welcoming speeches and the warnings about not touching any suspicious objects, we set off, each group to do its own thing. This was where a large group was far from ideal. Inevitably, people would keep walking, or even stopping in front of you when you were obviously watching something through your scope. Then there were those who were content to let everyone else do the finding, while carrying on their own loud conversation. Peaceful it was not. Nevertheless, we did amass a total of about 70 species between us for the day. I managed to see most of them, but the ones I missed would not have been year ticks anyway, so I was quite happy just to tag along.
Since the birding was no big deal, I began to turn my attention to the butterflies and insects. They were much more inclined to stay in one place. I had a vague idea of the names of most of them, but I was starting to feel like a beginner birder must feel. Confusing but fun. I even sprawled on the ground to photograph flowers, some of which I learned were rather rare.
There was no chance to go off and do your own thing (which would have been nice) because by means of some mysterious telepathy we kept jumping into our cars and heading off to a distant part of the range. Look the other way for a minute, and you could find yourself all alone and lost. The only time I did manage to slip away from the trampling botanists and the flushing birders, I made sure I was in a place they would have to pass when returning to their cars. And that was when I witnessed a bit of a drama. I was watching a Meadow Brown butterfly flitting through the long grass, when it blundered into a spider’s web. Trapped there, its attempts to free itself only succeeded in attracting the attention of the spider. Out it came, embraced the butterfly in its deathly hug, and settled down to a living lunch. I’ve put a photo of it in the “nature up close ” gallery, along with a few more of some dragonflies and fungi.

I see it’s been a couple of weeks since I last wrote anything in my diary. There hasn’t been anything really interesting to get me motivated, in what is traditionally a fairly quiet time of year. I had to rush to finish my BTO tetrad surveys before the end of July. That was quite hard going, what with the trees and bushes being in full leaf and most of the birds now being more or less silent.
There were a few highlights however. I rediscovered the Den of Maidencraig, a Local Nature Reserve on the outskirts of Aberdeen with a lot of potential. It has gone a bit quiet now, but there could be some autumn migrants passing through before long.
The Tarland wetland hide has been quiet as well, with nothing unusual to record. It’s two years ago this week since I found three Green Sandpipers there, so maybe I’ll be lucky again. Talking of Sandpipers, a visit last week to Loch of Strathbeg yielded a couple of Wood Sandpipers for me, not exactly your everyday bird, and very welcome they were.
I suppose the biggest thrill recently was the totally unexpected visit we had at home from a Pine Marten. In broad daylight, it sauntered along the wall in front of the kitchen window, deposited something dark and smelly, and continued on through the neighbour’s garden. Of course, the camera was not to hand, but I did take a photo later of its little present. It’s in the mammal gallery if you’re keen to see it!

First stop was Loch of Strathbeg, more in hope than expectation that the Grey Phalarope would still be around. It wasn’t, but by way of compensation, an adult Mediterranean Gull and an adult Little Gull, both in splendid summer plumage, were showing very well, sometimes side by side. ...more

They're noisy, argumentative and greedy. Just like some human kids I know ;-)

Here, in the garden, it’s still as busy as ever. We now have fledged Swallows, Willow Warblers, and a Great Spotted Woodpecker. Last year, we had both parents and three juvenile Woodpeckers coming to the feeders, but this year, just the one juvenile, and no adults. The Magpie family still drops in for a free feed most days. The squealing of the three youngsters sounds to me very like that of a piglet. Or even a Water Rail. ...more

I was in the Aberdeen Art Gallery yesterday when my mobile rang. To be more precise, I was in the toilet, and I had my hands full. Luckily there was nobody else there so I answered it. My car would be ready to collect in half an hour. ...more

For us humans it is still very much summer, with temperatures around 30 degrees, and hot sticky nights. Yet for some birds, the summer is over and their return migration has started. ...more

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Now I’m Pheasant Rearing. ...more

Quail, Osprey, an exotic type of duck. Well, two out of three ain’t bad. ...more

Sorry, but I couldn’t resist using the title. That, in case you are wondering, is the total so far for my 2009 year list. I have now overtaken my total for the whole of 2007, and I’m only 25 behind 2008’s tally. And the year is less than half gone. So, I reckon that means, either I’m going to have an amazingly successful year this year, or the rest of the year is going to be dull. It is just as well I’m not obsessed with lists, isn’t it? ...more

When I haven’t been tearing the last of my hair out trying to fix the aforementioned fault, I have actually been out birding. I put in a dusk stint at Tarland, mainly because I can’t thole high temperatures any more, and the mid twenties was my cue to go and have a lie down in the shade. ...more

Some of you have been experiencing problems reading the text. I didn’t know, until I began to get emails, because everything looked fine on my monitor. Anyway, it’s all been fixed now, so you can resume your bedtime reading. Thanks to those of you who helped me pinpoint the problem, and especial thanks to Clikpic for coming up with the solution. Yes, it was my own silly fault for trying to fiddle with font settings when I should have left well alone.

25th May 2009. This morning I awoke to the call of a Cuckoo. It’s been around for a few weeks now, over in the birch woods of Tom’s Cairn. Some years we have two of them, a duet from morning until dusk, but this year there seems to be only the one. It was a nice start to the day, but little did I realise how it was to end. ...more

Normal Service Resumed. 25th May 2009. Now that the new website is looking a bit more presentable, I can return to telling the tales of my avian seeking antics. ...more

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