Shetland: Noss And More Magic

A day for boat trips, that was the plan for Wednesday. One in the afternoon, out to the cliffs of Noss, then later in the "dark" one to Mousa, an island where storm petrels live in a Broch, beside the shore. It was a good job Paula had taken the trouble to book the boat (Dunter III) as we saw several people turned away who'd turned up on the day for the day trip.

As soon as we'd left the shelter of the harbour, the gannets started to follow us, which was fab to see, as were the pirates, the Bonxies who soon moved into our wake. Such powerful birds, which leisurely followed until they got bored, and either soared off, or powered past us, like we'd dropped anchor.

On the rocks were seals, both common and grey , plus shags practising yoga, or so it seemed. Blasting past the boat were black guillemots, puffins and fulmars. And we'd not even reached the sea bird colony of Noss yet!

When we did, the smell reminded me of both Bempton and Skomer, but unlike those two, here you're underneath the cliffs, and risk being bombed. Amazingly, given my track record I managed to escape, unlike Kate who christened her nice coat with some white stuff. Enough of the pooh-talk, and back to the birds...

The cliffs are swamped with gannets, plus guillemots, fulmars, shags and skuas, which patrolled the area, chasing anything with a catch. Getting shots of the birds as they flew between us on the bobbing boat and the cliffs was tricky, but the trusty old 100-400mm did the business, and reminded me how light it is, compared to the prime lens.

Apparently the great skuas are responsible for keeping the place tidy, and we saw a pair pecking at a dead gannet in the water, though even they didn't seem particularly impressed with their dinner.

While I don't generally get sea sick, being sat still, bobbing around like a cork, started to affect my stomach, and I was glad we started to move again, heading back to Lerwick. Once more the pursuit by Bonxies commenced, and they came closer than any of us had imagined, when one of the boat's crew offered some biscuits to them.

I had to lean right back to even get a focus lock on it! You'd not want one of these chasing you, believe me.

Still buzzing from the boat trip, and looking forward to the next one, Neil and I opted to head out to try our luck for otters. After a good hour, he raised the alarm - one was on the move, and within moments, we were all heading towards it, moving as it dived, freezing when it surfaced. That was after I'd bagged some shots of it scampering across the beach area, to the sea, keeping low as it did.

In the water it caught and ate a couple of crabs. Was great to watch, especially at such close quarters. Then, with us all stood on the headland above, it caught a flat fish, too big to manage at sea, so swam right into the shore, below us. We couldn't believe our luck - a young male wild otter, clambering around on the rocks and seaweed, only a few yards away.

He soon polished off the fish, twisting his head this way and that, as he crunched through it.

After, he nosed about in the seaweed, in search of crabs perhaps, and rubbed his thick fur against the rocks.

I'm sure he could hear the shutters firing, as he looked right down my lens a couple of times, but the wind was in our favour, and he wasn't put off by us being there.

A quick groom and he was off, out into the loch, leaving us all ecstatic from the experience, with grins from ear to ear. Wonderful. Truly wonderful.

Shetland: Just A Tuesday...

Tuesday morning started rather grey, but only in the weather sense, as by breakfast I'd already seen an otter fishing in a nearby bay, albeit at distance. With nothing planned for the day, I strolled down to the quayside, to see what I could photograph. Before I'd even reached the water, I could hear a wren belting out a song, and soon spotted the tuneful character, perched on the railings. He flew off when I approached, but after a short while, returned, to carry on where he'd left off.

Also sat on the railings, unimpressed with the weather were the resident common terns, who weren't bothered in the slightest about me, and granted some exceptionally close views.

When we'd first met Paula, she'd told us that we'd definitely see golden plovers on the moors behind their cottage, but the first trip up there, admittedly lacking in Timmy's presence (he puts them all up!), we'd failed to see any. So, with a few hours to kill, Ian and I headed up there. Paula was right, they were definitely there, but could I get close?

Out the car and on to the moors, keeping low and moving slowly, I tried to approach one stood watching me from the top of a mound. It moved, I stopped... then it moved towards me, so I stayed still. Calling out constantly to another nearby, the golden plover cautiously trotted across the gorse to me!

Not quite in full summer colours, but still with beautiful marked feathers, it was real treat, and returning back the cottage, the pics made a certain Kate rather envious. With them literally on our doorstep, meant we'd have another chance later...

Back down to the quay again, and the wren was still there amazingly. This time though, perching on more interesting objects, so making much better photographs. And the light had improved too.

Not wanting to rest on our laurels, Paula encouraged us out and about, and we soon found ourselves spread along a loch, looking for otters once more. As usual, Hawk-Eye himself (Ian) spotted one, and moments later, Kate and I were scuttling towards it, for a better view. I think she chose the more comfortable spot, nestled in the long grass above the lochside, whereas I found myself straddled a rusty old drainage pipe, beside the water!

The otter kept to the other side of the loch, but was in and out of the water, sliding under the seaweed, climbing over rocks and of course, crunching away on its catch. They're ace creatures to watch - amusing. They're also ones for blending into the surroundings, and keeping a track of it was tricky. After a good 15 mins of viewing, it headed down the loch, up on to the shore and behind some large boulders, presumably into its holt. Yet another magical Shetland experience.


By evening, the sun started to threaten to come out, and keen to quell her thirst for golden plover shots, Kate headed up to the moors again, with Ian and I in tow. Finding the plovers was easy - they'd not moved from where I'd seen them earlier, but getting decent light proved trickier. For a moment or two when we first found them, it was bright, and we got some great shots.

But we had to wait a good hour before the sunlight really broke through, to get some vibrance in the images.

The evening light was golden, appropriate really, for the birds being photographed, and the moors and lochs behind really added to the shots.

What could have been a "quiet" day on Shetland, ended as usual, anything but, with yet another otter sighting at dusk. I got some shots, but they're a bit dark for processing, especially given results later in the week...

Shetland: Part One.

Shetland. Where do I begin? Probably with a huge thank you to Paula and Magnus, with whom we were lucky enough to stay, and their dog Timmy of course. Their organisation of trips, where to go and when, their hospitality and generosity was truly humbling.

I say "we" as I was joined by 3 others, Ian, Neil and Kate, and it was called the PINK Tour. Ian and I travelled up on Friday, calling in to Kate's place to take up some of her gear, then taking a leisurely drive for about 8 hours to Aberdeen, where we caught a ferry for an overnight crossing to Lerwick.

Waking early the next morning, we peered through the window at the gloom outside, to just about catch a sight of the islands, and it didn't get much clearer as the boat drifted towards the harbour. In the water below were black guillemots and circling the ship were great skuas and gannets. There was some brightness in the gloom though - the flashing headlights of Magnus and Paula's car, as they watched us arrive. A short while later, we had met and were following them back to their lochside cottage. This would be our base for the week, and what a location it was. Overlooking a sea loch, with gannets, fulmars, terns, mergansers and divers flying over, plus curlew and golden plover calling from the moors nearby.

Kate and Neil were far more sensible, and chose to fly up! We met them later on the first day at Sumburgh Airport. Neil's flight was delayed, so we popped up Sumburgh Head, to view the seabird colony. Here we caught sight of more skuas, including Arctic ones, plus kittiwakes, more fulmars and gannets and a fond favourite, puffins.

After collecting Neil, we headed out to Loch Spiggie for a look around, and called into a sandy cove, with turquoise waters. Here I got my first decent views of a red-throated diver as it fished near the shore, and briefly, the sun came out. Back at the cottage, I spent some time down by the water, watching the common and Arctic terns flying, calling and hovering, plus attempted to photo a distant red-throated diver with little success. Nearby were juvenile wheatears and I could hear a local wren calling out. The day ended in fine spirits, with a tasty BBQ at the cottage. Most welcome after a long day.

The second day was spent driving around the mainland, visiting historic sites, peering into the gloom, sheltering from the wind and rain, and scoffing chocolate cake in a cafe (Breiwick) with arguably one of the best views in the UK. Kate and Neil battled the elements atop of some cliffs near a lighthouse to get some shots of fulmars riding the gales. And a brief stop beside a loch yielded good views of some Arctic terns, ringed plovers and a fishing puffin.

Monday brought a break in the weather, and we opted to head over to Fetlar. This meant catching a couple of car ferries between islands, which allowed us to stand up on deck and view some blue-coloured sea at long last. Fetlar, it struck me, belonged to Bonxies (great skuas) as they seemed to be everywhere. Sat near the road, soaring overhead, chasing other birds over the lochs and sea. Great to see, unless you're a gannet with a catch!

Down by a beach I spotted a few twite, but they vanished before I could grab the camera, and as was becoming the norm, there were divers on the sea. On to Loch Funzie, for one of my target birds, a red necked phalarope. Also on the loch was a pair of nesting red throated divers, and we were able to get fantastic views of the nesting bird. No photos, as I've not got a licence... but I didn't need to, as the partner was gliding around the loch anyway. Not close enough though. In fact the only time it did stray close was when the heavens had opened, and I crouched beside the road, getting soaked. Shots came out ok though, for colourless, rain-affected ones!

Also around, and posing for photos, both perched and in flight were Arctic terns. Angelic birds - delicate looking. You would never believe they could fly so far each year.

As for the phalaropes? No sign. We hunted high and low, but no joy. There's always another day.

Owlets and owlets

I assume that people who follow this blog like owls, as I do. For any that don't you'd best skip this post!

A couple of weeks ago I was fortunate enough to be made aware of a pair of tawny owlets (chicks) on a local reserve, so weather permitting, I headed over for a look. The birds were apparently quite mobile already, and could be anywhere along a line of trees. I had my work cut out, but after about 30 mins of searching, I spotted a shape that didn't quite look like part of a tree.

I'd found one. Sat out on a branch, quite high up but already watching me. I expect it had been doing so since I got there, but then I'm a bit easier to see when pottering around carrying my gear! Was a fluffy little character. Not sure whether I'd call it cute?

As the breeze moved the branch it was perched upon, the owlet kept its head dead still, to keep a watchful eye on me. Amusing to watch, though being backlit, it didn't make it easy to get a sharp shot. Thank goodness for large memory cards, that's what I say, and after reeling off a few shots at different settings, I managed to get some keepers.

I have to say, after looking at the bird's face close up (cropping) it sort of resembles Max!! Sorry mate!


With a bit of decent weather this week, Dad has been popping out locally to see what he can photograph, and I was rather envious when he dropped some photos into my lap, of a little owlet he'd seen at Little Grump's residence. I think it was later in July last year when I saw the chicks, but this was great to see, and meant I had my weekend sorted for more owlet action!

But before I could do anything, in the shower on Saturday morning, simply raising my arms to wash my hair, put my back into spasm. I must be getting old! It was (and still is) very painful, so I've been really careful not to exert myself at all since. Hence being sat in a car, having to be motionless, proved to be quite handy!

There are two owlets at the site, and both are already mobile. They are so much fun to observe, when they move that is... which isn't that often. They can both fly, and seem to enjoy scampering around the tree, leaping between branches. They also practise bobbing their heads up and down, or around in circles, like they're listening to some disco tunes.

The parent birds are around, but they seem to tire of the screeches for food, and fly off to neighbouring trees! I went both days of the weekend, though total viewing time of the owls must have been about 20 mins. And even then, most of my shots were partially obcsured by leaves or branches, though on a couple of instances the owlets, when possibly too excited from being mobile, forgot to keep hidden, and landed out in the open at the ends of the branches.

They soon realised how exposed they were, and dived back into the foliage once more. Great to see that Little Grump is keeping the population of little owls going in the area. Just need to get up early enough to work out where some of his offspring have gone to.

One Good Turn Deserves A Tawny...

A couple of weeks back, I had chosen to take Dad to Brandon Marsh, with the hope of seeing kingfishers and maybe a cuckoo. It's a new location for him, and one I hope he'll go back to, especially after he encountered some of the local erm, wildlife, in the form of Andy and Max! Both of whom were entertaining as we camped in the Carlton Hide, hoping for pics. Apparently, just before we'd got there, a pair of juvenile kingfishers had been posing all over the place. Typical!

During the time sat there, one did appear, but too far for decent shots, especially after last year's feast of chances from Feckenham, at such close range. That said, Dad broke his duck on getting shots of one, albeit rather distant.

We heard a cuckoo, but that was about it, and aside from Dad getting more heron shots, we didn't fare too well, made worse by texts from friends out in Staffordshire, of a tawny owl they'd encountered. With Dad in tow, I couldn't drag him all the way up there, so sat there feeling very envious indeed.

A week is a long time to wait, but early on Saturday morning, I was off out to the spot where they'd seen it, in the hope it'd still be around. Stuart was there too to help, but it took a good 90 mins of wandering the area before the bird gave itself away, by calling out. We were on to it in a flash, but annoyingly, the views of it were obscured by branches.

It was awake though, not surprisingly, given the breezy conditions, and after much mooching, we managed some angles where we could get a shot of it, the best being when the owl itself peered around a branch, to look down at me!
As owls do, it dozed off eventually, though the wind picked up, bringing a real downpour, and the owl flew to a different tree - great to see it fly, but it managed to find an even more hidden perch, and despite more creeping around, getting neck-ache from looking upwards, we couldn't manage to get a better view point.
The rain showers seemed to get more frequent, and the light was terrible. So much for the middle of June! We all looked pretty fed up with the conditions, including the owl. And, as soon as the weather cleared up, the owl cleared off, to high in the canopy, presumably to dry off.

It was our cue to leave, but despite the mild irritation of twigs and branches being in the way, I'd bagged easily my best shots to date of a tawny.

Somerset Levels

For the last few years, at about this time of year I have been fortunate enough to be able to get down to Devon and Somerset, for photographing birds around the reserves I love down that way. But this year other holidays (such as Lindos) have meant no south-west trip. Having seen pied flycatchers at Gilfach Farm, not seeing them at Yarner Wood (Dartmoor, Devon) wasn't so bad, but I still yearned to revisit the Somerset Levels for the hobbies and bitterns.

Hence, the alarm went off at 5am on Saturday morning, and about 8:30am, I was parking up at Ashcott Corner, ready to stroll around RSPB Ham Wall, and if time allowed later, Shapwick Heath. It was breezy but the sun was shining on arrival, and the walk along the path to Ham Wall was lovely - the air filled with the songs of warblers, and within minutes of reaching the reserve, the unmistakeable sound of booming bitterns.

Apparently there was a ring-necked duck on site, but I failed to see it, and I was more interested in scurrying off around the lakes in search of bitterns and hobbies. The reserve was almost infested with dragonflies - I've never seen so many, though a more knowledgeable observer pointed out that the larger dragonflies were almost all four-spotted chasers, as can be seen in the shot below.

The bitterns were booming away frequently, but my attention had diverted to cuckoos calling. Twice, one skimmed the tops of the reeds and landed in a tree, just that bit too far off for a shot, and typically against the sun. Moving to a location where the perching point was lit better, I waited and hoped. No good - waited for a good hour and the bird failed to return, and I was about to move off when a pair of bitterns rose up above the reeds, with one chasing the other.

I had seen this sort of behaviour before, but this lasted longer and was much closer to me. They circled over-head, crying out at each other as they soared around the sky. Like last time, I had the big lens rigged up on a tripod, and took most shots with that, but when the birds went right over-head, I swapped to my hand-held 100-400mm lens, to avoid doing myself an injury.

It was rather tricky though, to retain both birds in the shot, and also to get a focus lock that would keep at least one of them sharp.

Eventually, they dropped down and vanished again into the vast reedbeds, not to be seen (by me) again that day. So I turned my focus back to the cuckoos, which numbered three. Along the path from where I had been stood was a dead tree, and was again favoured by one of the male birds. I relocated there and hoped for better fortune.

I was in luck, as one landed in the tree, but agonisingly, the wrong side of a group of branches, so it wasn't a clean shot. Moving to attempt for a clearer line, spooked the bird and it flew off. And so began several failed attempts to get an unobstructed view of the bird, over the course of about an hour.

I was about to abandon the plan when one landed in another tree behind me, and as before, when I moved, it flew. But this time not far, and to a perch that was obscured by a tree. Hence I was able to approach, drop the tripod to a level giving me a clear view, and take a few shots.

I don't think the bird could see me, but the sound of the shutter meant it looked over towards me, after each burst of its call.

Eventually, it thought better of the noise, or perhaps it spotted me, and flew off, but I'd achieved some shots at last.

I'd also achieved something else, less pleasant. The reserve is quite overgrown in places, with stinging nettles and thistles, which is great for caterpillars etc, I guess. But not great for standing by, and I'd almost got used to being stung or spiked by them, when I was taking pics. Hence, when my legs felt irritated when photographing the cuckoo, I wasn't overly bothered.

Until I looked down that is. And saw a sea of red ants, up both legs to about knee-height! I wasn't being stung or spiked, but being bitten!

I had to perform a sort of Red Indian war dance, or perhaps a Morris Dance, which involved lots of leg-slapping and shaking, to get rid of them from my trousers, socks and within my boots. Must have been very amusing to watch, though not for me, and my legs itched for hours after.

A surprising aspect of the trip, compared to the last time I was there, was the lack of hobbies. I saw just one, throughout the whole day. I'm sure there were more around, but not close enough to interest me for a photo. I had hoped that Shapwick Heath would be better, but it wasn't. In fact, the reserves were really rather quiet in that respect.

At Shapwick Heath, I spent some time in the hide overlooking the main lake, listening to the constant cries of young cormorants, watching occasional flights from warblers, and even more rare, were the bitterns, out looking for food. One even strolled across a gap in the reeds in front of us, but was too quick and well hidden to allow us any chance of a photo.

A final visit to the hide on the other side of the canal yielded a good view of a male marsh harrier, quartering the reedbeds, but by now the cloud had covered the skies and the wind had got a lot stronger.

With tired red eyes, I thought it was probably best to head back home, wishing I was heading the other direction on the M5, as is usually the case. Ah well, maybe next year.

Lindos, a non-birding break...

It was never meant to be a birding holiday; more of a break to get away and relax, get some sunshine and warmth, spend some time with my family and try to forget about all the stress of recent months both at home and at work.

Curiosity though, got the better of me, and before flying out I googled what might be around on the island of Rhodes, birdwise. Unsure of the size of the safe in the room, I opted to just take my old Sigma 70-300mm and my 40D camera. And last minute I packed my bins too.

Arriving at the apartment complex at night, the night was filled with the sound of insects... and also of possibly owls. Sounded familiar, but I couldn't be sure. Next morning, after reeling from the heat of the sun on the patio of the apartment, I ventured out to scan the cliffs behind, to see if I could see what was making the calls.

A flash of white and black, a flicking tail, and I thought I'd spotted a pied wagtail. I hadn't. It was far better. Flitting about from the fencing of the complex (to keep out goats!), and the pathways around the buildings, was a fantastic-looking black and white wheatear, which turned out to be a black-eared wheatear. And he wasn't alone.

Nearby, whistling and chatting was his partner, a brownish bird, but lovely in her own right. Both were superb at grabbing the insects around, especially the huge crickets and grasshoppers, which tried to bask in the sunshine on rocks and posts.

Considering how shy wheatears in the UK can be, I was amazed at how much these two liked to perch right in front of me, and even Dad with just a point-n-shoot camera, managed some fab shots of them. We spent most afternoons, after the heat of the sun had got too much, watching and trying to photo this pair, eventually discovering they had 3 or 4 juveniles around the area, being fed.

Looking skywards, I was equally amazed at the number of birds of prey around. A pair of peregrines often circled, hurtling off over the hills in search of prey, as did masses of kestrels, some of them lesser kestrels, I believe. Falcons, such as red-footed falcon were around too, and all of these birds seemed to be able to catch insects on the wing, much like hobbies do in the UK.

In fact, you could look at the sky for no more than 30 seconds most of the time and see at least one. Kestrels were most common, flying from the Acropolis up to the hills behind our complex, and then zipping back. Oh how I wished I'd got a bigger and faster lens!

More so, when one morning I spotted something larger, with very long wings and was almost eagle-like. Grabbing the cameras, we both waited to see if it would fly into view again. It did, eventually, and lower down. Comparing our shots to images on the internet, we initially thought we'd seen a Bonelli's eagle! Sadly, it turned out to have been (only!) a long-legged buzzard, but great to see nonetheless.

As well as birds and rather large insects all over the place, there were agama lizards, which amused us daily, with their scuttling running, head-banging and crazy leaps from rocks when chasing prey.

They look just like dinosaurs, and loved to bask in the sunshine. They were also all over the hills and cliffs at the back, and whilst watching these, I spotted something fluffy and brown.

Perched atop a rock, was a little owl, looking grumpy as usual, though with a sea-view and masses to eat all around, I suspect it was a bit happier than the one I see down the road. As I watched, I saw it fly off and disappear into a crack in the cliff-face. Listening more carefully, I could hear a screech. It was nesting there, and hidden from view must have been at least one chick. After about an hour, I'd realised that there was a pair of little owls up there, and they were constantly having to catch food for the hungry chicks. No wonder they looked grumpy!

On a couple of the days I opted to go for a walk instead of being a fat slug-in-the-sun by the pool, mainly because I'm fair-skinned and burn easily. The first trip took in fine views along the headland behind the beach, and apart from a distant blue rock thrush, the only birds I saw were a pair of juvenile peregrines, practising food passes, albeit miles off.

The second trip, which took in St Pauls Bay was far better. Behind the outcrop of rock which holds up the Acropolis, were nesting kestrels, various gulls, masses of swallows and what turned out to be crag martins, which were flying so close to me at times, I had to move out of their way!

Above the cries of kestrels whenever hooded crows or gulls flew too close to the nests, was a beautiful song being called out. Peering over the cliff edge I spotted a blue rock thrush, sat on some rocks by the water's edge, singing its heart out. Patience yielded results, when it flew close enough for a few record shots.

Also around the apartments was a jay, with a black cap on its head, loads of sparrows of course, a couple of greenfinches (I think) and enough large and unusual insects to get me to switch to macro on the lens, for some close up shots. Not too close though - some of the spiders were very large! As were the beetles, which were hopeless at flying, and comically bounced off walls instead of flying over.

All in all a fab trip, though next time I think I'll take a better lens with me!