25th June 2009

26/06/09

It’s amazing how things pile up when you are away for a week. Anyway, now that I’m back, and all duties and jobbies seen to, I went birding. A singing quail had been reported near Kirriemuir, in a pea field. Also, a family of bearded tits, and water rails and a spotted crake had been watched at Loch of Kinnordy. The pea field was massive, stretching for hundreds of metres in all directions, and disappearing over the horizon. If ever I am desperate for a pea, I’ll know where to go. I parked at the edge of the field, opened the car windows, and settled down to lunch. And listened. To skylarks. And passing traffic. Not a sound of the quail. Of course I never expected to see it. One doesn’t.

So, quail-less, I meandered over to Kinnordy, and settled down to watch. And listen. Again. The loch was very quiet. There were only a few mallards, an occasional reed bunting giving out its half hearted song, and a mix of swallows and swifts catching insects. Then an osprey flew past, high overhead, and away out of sight. Oh well, I’ve seen plenty ospreys. It did occur to me however, that only ten years ago, the sight of an osprey would have been something momentous. Now, it received barely a passing glance. I’d much rather have seen a bearded tit, water rail, spotted crake, or any of a dozen other exciting birds that occasionally turn up at Kinnordy. Tempus fugit. I moved along to the swamp hide, but it was just as dead. After an eternity, the osprey (or another one) flew west with laboured flight and a fish in its talons. Oh well, that was slightly more interesting. I know some people would give an arm and a leg and probably some other bits of their anatomy to see an osprey flying past with a fish, leaving a trail of silvery droplets across the water. But then, they probably have several birds I would give some of the aforementioned anatomical bits to see.

Enough musings. I took off for the Montrose Basin. The tide was racing in, filling it quickly. As I walked along the Lurgies path, I counted the mute swan flock. 186. I may have missed a few. Not far along, I noticed a couple of medium sized birds on the far side, in the still shallow water. They were feeding avidly on stringy bits of weed. Salad munchers. I got the bins on to them, and lo and behold, and all that sort of exclamations, they were two ruddy shelducks. No, I’m not lowering my literary standards, as that really is the name of the bird. I watched them for a bit, then cursed myself for not bothering to take the camera. Will I never learn? So, back to the car, back with the camera, set it up on the tripod, and the ruddy shelducks took off. But not before I got a couple of shots. They landed further away. I realised it wisnae me that had flegged them, it was the rising tide that had covered their salad lunch. I took a few more pics, but by now they were really too far away for anything more than a record shot. Chances are, they are fence hoppers, escaped from somebody’s pet collection. But they were real bonnie birds, and I’m glad I found them.