Shetland: The Last Few Days

After failing to see a red-necked phalarope on our first trip over to Fetlar, we decided to give it another go. With fair weather, perhaps it would be more suitable for seeing them? We'd only just started driving on Fetlar after disembarking from the ferry when Neil spotted some fins off the shore. Dolphins! Rapidly we scrambled from the cars and set up, to try for some shots, albeit somewhat distant. Still great to see, and served as reminder that on these islands, you really need to carry a camera at all times, as you just never know what you might see around the next corner.

At Loch Funzie, the Arctic terns were hovering again over the edge of the pool, diving for small fry, the fields were littered with juvenile wheatears using rocks and old walls to perch upon, and nearby on a fence post, a snipe was taking a break from its tiring drumming flights.

As I wandered around the loch, I spotted a sleepy dunlin, sat right beside the road. Even when I set up and took some shots, it only bothered to keep one watchful eye on me.

Once more, we all spread out around the area in search of the elusive phalarope, but as before, there was no sign. While we searched, Kate set up near a nest of starlings, and as the star attraction was hiding, I joined her. The starlings were bringing back masses of grubs for the nestlings, posing on fences and nearby rocks before disappearing into the hidden nest.

Keeping a watchful eye on us and for skuas, a whimbrel perched high on a rocky outcrop, close enough for some reasonable shots. Telling curlews apart from whimbrels was a source of conversation during the week, as some birds seemed to have characteristics suggesting they could be either. I'm pretty sure this one was a whimbrel though, as the head stripes are plain to see...

Whilst having our packed lunches, I spotted a pair of Arctic skuas nearby, and tried for some shots, but they have a habit of flying fast and very low, making it very tricky to get a lock on. Plus they blend in so well, once they've lost the sky as a background, they almost blend into the surroundings.

With still no sign of the phalaropes, Paula got word of killer whales that had been seen off the coast, on the mainland at Esherness. Also at the same time, Kate, who'd been for a look down at a nearby beach, returned with info of a local loch, known by a resident to have phalaropes on it, seen daily by him.

Now given the facts at the time, a choice of seeing one of the birds I'd come to Shetland for, or driving back in hope of seeing orcas, that might well have swum off, I chose the birds. Had I known all the facts, I might well have gone for the whales...

The party split, as Ian and Kate desperately wanted to try to see the whales, whereas Neil and I wanted to see the phalaropes. It was a fair old hike away - about a kilometre to the loch, and as we discovered, mostly up hill! The loch itself was nestled in a hillside, and surrounded by marshland. Neil went one way, I went the other, scanning the reeds and hoping.

It just wasn't going to be our day. Nothing. I even missed an Arctic skua fly over my head as I was busy trying not to sink into the mud at the time, and then we heard from Ian... the whales had been there all day. Had I known that, and thought there was a genuine chance of seeing them, I might have gone with them. As it was, we tried to get back to see them also.

It was a race against time, that we lost. Having to wait over 90 mins for the 2 ferries, cost us dear, as upon arrival, the tide had started to go out, and taken the orcas with it. We missed them by a mere 5 mins. As I said, just wasn't our day. That said, the two people in our group who most wanted to see them did, so that was all that really mattered.

And besides, the sea food meal Magnus had prepared and then had to hold on to while we chased whales, made up for missing out. What a feast! Like all of his meals we enjoyed, it was scrumptious!

With nothing then planned for the final days of the trip, and with gloomier weather, I tried to absorb the atmosphere of their cottage, the view, the sounds as much as possible, as I knew I'd miss it when I had left. To be able to stand on their driveway and watch gannets diving for fish, divers flying over, back and forth to the nests, terns crying out, dancing across the sky, and perhaps the sighting of an otter, made it so special. I'm not sure I could put up with the winters, but during the lighter months, it is certainly magical.

Unlike my attempts to photo a gannet diving... which were all dreadful. A bit distant and it was raining too (excuses, excuses), I did witness gulls attacking a gannet. The gannet seemed to have "caught" something a fisherman had discarded, but no sooner had it taken off, the gulls, mainly great black-backed, launched their assault. Grabbing the gannet by its tail, the gannet dived into the water (like they do when skuas attack), but lost the catch doing so. The gull promptly stole it, and left with other gulls in pursuit. All very dramatic, and all within a few yards of the cottage.

As was becoming the norm, the day ended with yet another otter sighting, this time with close views of one swimming near us. Was very glad of the noise control of my 7D, as I'm sure images from my 50D would have taken hours of filtering to get usable images from, given how gloomy it was then.

And so we reached the end of a fantastic stay, watching Neil and Kate depart at Sumburgh Airport, leaving Ian and me to potter around new areas of Shetland we'd not seen before. Needless to say we found a certain rude village name for a photo, and managed to spot another otter when Ian was looking for a merganser! This one was a rather tatty looking one - a few fights perhaps?

Enroute back to the cottage Ian saw a curlew perched on some purple heather which made for a great image, despite the weather. And we even found some woodland, which didn't fit with the rest of the island!

As when we arrived, we left Lerwick in the rain and gloom, which is better than leaving it in glorious sunshine, as we'd have felt worse than we already did. For us it wasn't the end of the trip, as we still had a few days in the Scottish Highlands to enjoy, though after Shetland, its beauty, wildlife and the company we'd enjoyed, it was never going to be quite as good.

I raise a glass to toast a successful trip, and to Paula and Magnus, and the PINK tour, for making it so very, very special.

Shetland: Mousa

After the excitement of seeing the otter so close, had died down a bit, we set off for the ferry to Mousa, for the night trip to see the storm petrels. Ian kindly lent me a proper flashgun for my camera, and whilst sat on the quayside, I tried a few recommended settings to see which worked best. That said, it was hardly what you'd call dark, and the moon laid a white trail across the calm water. It was beautiful.

On the boat, the skipper then announced that flash photography had been stopped on the island, to protect the birds. The trip would have to be just for observing the birds for a change. I actually wish I'd taken over my kit lens, and tried for some twilight images, as Kate took some gorgeous shots whilst we were walking from the boat to the Broch. The Broch is actually a prehistoric stone, round tower, and the petrels nest in the gaps in the walls of it.

We had to wait for some time for it to be dark enough for the storm petrels to come in, but when they did, they resembled bats, fluttering around. I guess they're not great at remembering where in the broch (or stone walls nearby) they live, as they'd arrive and try several locations before disappearing from what little sight we had.

To see the sea in that light and so calm was according to the skipper, quite remarkable.

After the late night, we had a chilled out morning before heading back to the ferry again, this time for a day trip to Mousa. And what a glorious day it was too, clear skies and rather warm. Well, it is summer I suppose!

As soon as we cleared the boat, I knew the place was going to be special - some locations just have a sort of feeling about them, like Skomer. Walking away from the quay, I soon spotted a juvenile wheatear, hopping around on the grass in search of insects.

In fact there were several, and the more you looked, the more you saw. Whilst photographing the wheatear, a small flock of birds flew by, feeding on flower heads on the lichen-covered rocks. Closer inspection revealed they were twites! I had to try to get some shots, as I've only a couple of shots of these, and they were fair crops.

Creeping forward on my knees, I hoped to be able to get within range of perhaps a half decent pic before they flew, when unexpectedly, one of the group flew right towards me, and posed on a rock! With the yellow lichen backdrop, it looked great.

With Paula as our guide, she pointed out where she'd seen black guillemots before, and true to her word, one was sat on the edge of the cliffs, soaking up the sunshine. As usual, it was then a case of seeing if I could approach and not disturb it. I could, as it didn't seem bothered by me in the least, though getting shots of a black and white bird in full sunshine posed the usual exposure problems. I think I managed it just.

Whilst trying for a different angled shot, I found myself lying on the edge of the cliffs, with a firm grip of my lens of course, and was slightly startled when a long black head poked out of the shadows below, to look up at me. A shag! With the rich blue sea behind, and a shadow cast across the area, I tried for something a bit different. Waiting patiently, the bird eventually positioned itself so half its eye was in the sunshine, sparkling like an emerald, but the rest of it darkened by the shadows. I could waffle on, but the pic is worth a 1000 words, apparently...

By now the others had moved around the headland and were photographing more shags sat on the rocks below, and in the light that day, their colours, similar to perhaps a glossy ibis, showed well, especially against the blue sea behind.

Fulmars constantly whizzed by along the cliffs, and walking a bit further along, I spotted a nesting bird, with a chick behind. I assume it was the adult's partner, but as it flew by, the nesting bird called out, as did the chick behind it.

Paula was busy talking to a group of birders who had informed her that there was a pair of red-throated divers on a small loch not far away (nowhere is really, as Mousa isn't exactly huge!) but that set my pulse racing, and I hot-footed it over to the loch. Fantastic. A pair on a tiny loch, in good light for a change. Needless to say, Ian, Kate and I plonked ourselves down in the long grass, avoiding the thistles, and waited.

They seemed to like the attention, and glided around the pool looking most contented with life. Closing their eyes in the sunshine, and occasionally tucking their heads down for a nap, it was a serene scene, and I took hundreds of photos. Recalling the issues I'd had before with heat haze (peregrine in Devon), I wanted to be sure I'd got some sharp images.

I had, and was chuffed to see how vibrant the throat is, how detailed the feather markings on the back of the head are, and to see that red eye so clearly, was fantastic. A real highlight for me, in an already amazing trip.

Also around the area, resembling hobbies at times in their flight actions, were Arctic skuas. With a pointy bit on their tail, they really look menacing in flight, though also like hobbies, they're difficult to photo!

Despite having several hours on the island, the time to leave arrived too quickly for me, and was dragged from the island really. I could have stayed for days, in that weather. As we wandered past the Broch, we spotted a very carefree wheatear juvenile, who was too close for me to get in the shot.

I have to say, Mousa is definitely in my Top 10 locations now. Beautiful.

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.