Having just returned from Mull, Dad obviously had the taste for being away, and promptly booked a week down in Minehead, a favourite location of his (and Mum's). Getting time off so soon after Mull wasn't going to be easy, so I settled for a plan of a night (Sat) down there on the first weekend, and maybe, if possible, a return trip later in the week.
To make the most of it, I set off early on the Saturday to beat the traffic and also give myself a fighting chance of seeing a spotted crake which had been providing amazing views at a new site (for me), RSPB Greylake. Not far from Shapwick Heath, so finding it wasn't too hard, though I did use the old SatNav.
Walking from my car, I asked a local birder if it was still around and was relieved to hear positive comments, and within 5 mins, I was rounding the corner on the boardwalk, to the small drained lagoon, in which the bird was feeding.
I foolishly asked where it was, scanning the far reeds, only for someone to point down in front of me! It was too close to focus on! Thankfully it backed off, and I bagged a few shots.
I have seen one before at Upton Warren, but not this close.
It wasn't bothered at all with the people milling round, chatting and the machine-gun shutters. It'd pop out of cover, grab some sort of food, and then scuttle off again. The morning light wasn't great, and backlit the crake, but I managed to recover them for decent results.
It eventually vanished into the reeds, not to be seen again until dusk. I had left well before then, after chatting to Carl (made a change from me nearly treading on him). I headed back to Shapwick Heath, one of my favourite reserves.
Again, I spoke to a birder who was leaving, and he mentioned that he'd seen bearded tits. I didn't realise they had them there, and was very pleased to see a few small flocks of them floating between reed beds. Sadly never close enough for shots, they provided a moment to savour, and an excuse to plonk down my gear for a rest!
The locally bred great white egrets stayed distant too, though a bittern kindly went for a circular flight.
Good to see, after they failed to show up locally this past winter.
With not much else coming close, I headed back to the car and trundled over to Minehead to meet up with Dad. I had heard about an osprey on the way there, but I have plenty of shots of them (even though I was missing one locally!!), so decided not to bother.
A quick chat with Dad, and I zipped off up North Hill, which is another favourite location, and where I spent hours chasing Dartford warblers years back.
No warblers that I could see, though I did see a group of stonechats, which is always good.
And I saw (and heard) small flocks of crossbills, though couldn't get close. Unlike the ponies which were grazing up there - they were easy to get shots of. Not that I'm overly interested in them...
That was it for the day and I spent the rest of it examining the bottom of pint glasses, through Cornish and Somerset ales. Very nice!
Sunday morning, and I dragged Dad up North Hill. Again, we found stonechats though this time nearer Hurlstone Point. Such a lovely spot, and while we sat there, a mass of ravens gathered over the headland - must have been close to 50 odd. Cronking away, spiralling down, chasing each other. Was quite a spectacle.
Dunster Beach is another great spot for photography, though also a favourite for dog emptiers. We saw a few wheatears around, but quite large flocks of linnets were milling around the edges of the beach, feeding on the seed from the wildflowers and shrubs growing in the sand. Mostly they kept away, but odd ones seemed to break from the crowds, and provided photo opportunities.
I also saw a vibrantly coloured male around, but could only manage record shots of him. Dad got him close up, later in the week, the jammy so and so.
And so it was time to head home. A short break but I was determined to come back.
I did. Booked the Friday off, and headed down on Thursday afternoon. Joined Dad for an afternoon pint, and then hit the pubs once more, for some more ales!
The next day, we shot down to Dunster Beach once again, paid the parking fees and set off looking for what Dad had seen during the week. He'd seen masses of linnets, wheatears and even a dipper! We tried for the latter first, but no sign of it. Wheatears though - they were everywhere...
And coming close too - right up to us, when we stood still. Great little birds.
A wander along the beach provided more chances with linnets, though the males had vanished. Hey ho.
There were also plenty of pipits around, both rock and meadow varieties. And yet more wheatears... and who can refuse a photo of them?
Back to the end by the stream / outflow, and I wandered down to the beach now the tide had gone out. It is a man made channel, but the end is sort of stepped, and allowed me to stand beside it, with the water at eye-level to me, and hence get shots of the wagtails feeding on it, from the sort of angle, you'd normally need a wetsuit to get.
And most pleasing, there were grey wagtails present too.
Such vibrant birds, often overlooked (by me) as they live in the same habitat as dippers.
Sadly the dipper failed to show up, so guess what? I took yet more shots of wheatears. Masses of shots of them!
We headed up North Hill for the end of the afternoon, hoping to catch up with some DWs, but despite having 3 of them flitting between gorse bushes near us, they never broke cover long enough for a shot, and I consoled myself with more shots of stonechats.
After a quieter night on the pop, I was out early and after discovering the spotted crake had left, I tried Shapwick again, but aside from a half decent view of one of the great white egrets, nothing else showed or came close, and I headed home again.
Somerset is always a pleasure to visit and while I tend to visit in Spring, it reminded me that it has plenty to offer at this time of year too.
Time flies when you're having fun, and Mull was no exception. It was midweek already, and Ian had managed to snap up some cancelled places on the Lady Jayne, for a second bite of the cherry. The day started well, in my opinion, seeing a WTE high over our cottage, though Ian mentioned that this might jinx the day. There's optimism for you!
I also managed to see 4 buzzards and a sparrowhawk in the time it took me to drink a cup of tea, whilst wandering around the parking area. The birds of prey theme continued en-route to the boat trip, seeing one of the buzzards already photographed before, on another post.
And high over the cliffs at the back of Na Keal, a pair of golden eagles were hunting. At the WTE viewing site, we left Ian's car with his parents, and a radio, and continued to the harbour in mine. Whilst waiting to board the boat, we were amused by the antics of a mink on the rocks below, which looked most annoyed at us being in its way, and it had to turn back, to find another way round. Hopefully into a trap on the way - I didn't realise they'd spread to Mull.
As before, the boat chugged round to the feeding area, and the gulls were attracted with the bits of bread thrown over the sides. Unfortunately, as before, the eagles didn't come out. Ian and I looked at each other - we didn't need to say what we were thinking. Thankfully, the radio crackled into life - Ian's folks reported an eagle was making its way out to us, and we quickly spotted it through our bins. Thank goodness for that!
I need to find some new adjectives for these birds, as magnificent and majestic keep springing to mind. They are simply huge when you see them so close.
But their speed means despite their size, they can be easily missed when they snatch the fish put out, and we were all pleased that the adult male made three trips out to us, to collect the fish, and allow us more chances of getting better shots each time.
There's still an element of luck involved, as the bird can be heading away from you when it takes the fish, leaving you with a set of shots, all from behind the eagle, which aren't great!
But we all managed reasonable images, which made the second trip so worthwhile.
And we made some new friends too, while we laughed at our attempts at photography, which is another great benefit of wildlife photography.
After touring round to see some seals and a rock covered in shags and cormorants, we thanked Martin and Judith for their hospitality aboard the Lady Jayne, and made our way back to meet up with Ian's folks, and wait for the second boat trip of the day to go out.
This also proved to be a good move, as the male went out twice to the boat, flying quite close to us on the way out, and very close on the return.
This made for some good images, as generally from the boat itself, you get the eagle descending and perhaps taking the fish (if you're fast and accurate enough!), but rarely do you see it facing you, carrying the fish.
The third visit to the boat was from the female, and while she approached from a distance, I took a shot of her with the boat close by, which helps show how large these birds are!
After a meal in Craignure, we were rather surprised to see 3 short-eared owls out hunting in Glen More. The light was very poor, and despite being able to get pretty close in my 4x4, the camera failed to lock on, and the best I got was rather rubbish, compared to efforts from Northants.
Still, they were fabulous to watch, albeit only for a few moments, and were a fitting end to a cracking day on the isle.
Thursday was again wet, and Ian headed straight to Tobermory after a very quick look over the marshes. All we saw were buzzards, as usual, with the very pale one trying to hunt despite the torrential rain.
And another over the back of the loch, perched in a tree looking a smidge fed up with the weather.
I bumped into the couple again from the boat trip, who were hoping for either harriers or an otter sighting, but we all agreed that it was a day best left well alone, and I followed Ian up north for some shopping and a look round the inside of a warm, dry pub! There was actually a cruise ship in the harbour, but it was raining so hard it resembled a ghost, in the mist!
And so we found ourselves at the last full day of the trip. Another early start and in the tradition of that week, it was wet. On the marshes were a herd of deer, something we'd not seen much of during our stay.
I found some interest over the back of Scridain with a buzzard on a post, a greenshank and some wagtails. Ian soon lost hope of seeing any eagle action there, and returned to the main part of the loch in search of otters.
I was also being entertained by a small flock of red-breasted mergansers that were heading in from the loch, and up the stream a short way, bringing them right past me, sat in my car.
It was around this time that I heard a crackled message (the radios struggled when hills are in the way) from Ian that he'd got an otter. With the mergansers getting closer, and some of them waddling out on to the shore, I stayed put. Besides, a diesel rolling up to meet Ian might have risked anything he was trying to do.
Eventually I thought I ought to go see what he was up to, and after grabbing some shots of a sleeping greenshank, and then seeing a WTE fly across the road in front of me - I kid you not - being chased by ravens, I eventually caught up with a rather damp-looking Ian, scrambling up from the lochside. Damp, but wearing a massive grin.
He'd had to creep through a stream and lie on wet rocks, and had thought for a moment that the otter, bringing something large ashore, would go out of sight to eat it, but it appeared in front of him, and he bagged one of the best otter shots I've ever seen. It had caught a lobster - obviously an otter with expensive taste. I'm not surprised he was grinning, Ian, not the otter, though that could have been too, had it not been obscured by the lobster! As hoped for, Mull had provided Ian now, with a very special image indeed. What a relief!
Seconds later, I managed to get the same otter out on some rocks, checking spraints, before trotting back into the water once more.
We followed the otter back to its holt, and as it headed upstream, it spooked a dipper out, which shot down to the edge of the loch, allowing us to grab a few images of it, with seaweed nearby. Most unusual.
After returning to base, recounting the tale of Ian's luck to Dad, and then seeing the image itself on Ian's iPad, we set out once more to make the most of the last day, finding another otter almost instantly, very close to the cottage. I tried to call Ian on the radio, but he'd switched his off...
The otter was rolling around on the seaweed, checking spraints and leaving some of his own, but I guess he could hear our shutters firing, as he stared over for some time, as we played statues behind our cameras. By now Ian had guessed we were on to something, as he'd tried contacting us and got no reply, and didn't have far to drive to locate us. When the otter made its way back into the loch, we all met up and crept down to the shore.
It had caught something too large to handle in the water, and was heading in, towards us. A ruddy great eel! It almost let it loose twice, but grabbed it again each time, before starting to consume the slippery, wriggly fish.
It had a real battle with it, as the eel didn't stop moving until the very end was being eaten!
Amusingly, whilst watching and photographing it, a local bus pulled up behind us, and all the passengers moved to the one side to also have a look at the scene.
The otter was too busy with its meal to notice! Once finished, it had a quick groom, mooched around the seaweed and scratched at perhaps bones caught in its teeth. After leaving more deposits on the rocks, it headed far out into the loch, and we chose to head elsewhere.
Not far though, as Ian spotted a distant male hen harrier. The Holy Grail, but as usual, it never came close. We watched and hoped, and took distant record shots, but yet again this bird avoided us. One day...
Yet again, the weather was trying its level best to ruin things, and with low cloud, seeing anything flying around would be a miracle. Just as well we had Hawkeye on hand, who managed to spot a golden eagle, sat on some rocks at the top of a steep hillside, being pestered by hooded crows. How he spotted it through the mist and low cloud is anyone's guess, but when it cleared slightly, we could see it.
Looking at the slope from the road, I reckoned that I might be able to get closer with a short hike, so set about the slightly insane idea of climbing up a wet grassy slope, carrying my camera and tripod, while the others watched on, hoping for something to send to You've Been Framed. While I got a bit closer, it soon became clear that in order to approach without being seen, meant climbing up a sheer face, and I thought better of that.
Just as I started to zig-zag my way down the hill, the eagle headed off, being chased by one of the hoodies. That would have been just my luck, to have clambered to a safe viewing point, only for a crow to scare off the bird!
A late sighting of a WTE later was all the last day provided, but by then we had decided to pack during the evening and have one last early morning, before heading for the ferry.
As before, round the back of Scridain was a buzzard on a fence post, but the light was poor and while I got some shots of it, you're probably sick of seeing buzzards on here by now! And again, Ian managed to locate an otter on the loch, which this time I went round for. We watched it fishing for a few moments, when it became clear it was heading for its holt again.
Having time to get in position, we waited on the bridge, and watched the otter keep low, as it swam up the rocky stream towards us. Surprisingly, it was pouring with rain, and the midges were out biting too. But it was the last hour of fun on the isle, and we put up with such things.
Out of the blue, the otter climbed up and out of the stream for a sniff around a grassy bank, and as we fired off shots, it heard us, and at that distance must have seen us too. It was back into the water in a flash, and then swam right underneath us. It vanished for a moment, only to appear out of the water on the rocky bank, where it showed real pace as it scampered off up the stream, back into the water and out of sight. Seeing it swim from above was a real treat though. And made the effort of one last early get-up, well worthwhile.
Back to the cottage, then to Craignure, the ferry to Oban and the long drive home.
Another Mull trip over, another mountain of images to process and yet more memories to treasure. The weather hadn't been kind, but the wildlife had been amazing, and as ever, left me yearning to return.
With Ian and his parents due to arrive just after lunchtime, I had arranged to meet up with them near the WTE site, so Dad and I had the morning to find something to photo. Little was happening either on the marshes or the loch, and just as we started to head north, Dad requested an emergency return to the cottage, as his stomach had gone into a spin cycle; made a change from me having such issues. A rapid drive back rivalled the speed that some of the locals drive at, and I left him at the cottage, where he said he'd find something to do around the immediate area.
I zoomed back round the loch and north towards the meeting point, scanning the edge of the loch for anything. It was rather a windy day, and having parked at one end of the loch, to look for waders, I heard a roaring sound and the back of the car was thumped and lifted up! Then a mini-tornado / spiral of wind climbed up the hillside, ripping up anything it found. Nice, I thought. Good job I hadn't got out for a view!
By the time I met up with the others, I'd seen a pair of golden eagles, albeit distant, and the weather had taken a turn for the worse. Old Hawkeye (Ian) had managed to see an otter and the WTEs by then though, so we headed back to the cottages, via Loch Spelve, hoping reports of the great-northern diver seen there the day before would yield results for us. Mergansers aplenty, but no divers.
While the others were settling in, I zipped down to the local shop for some bits and bobs, and spotted 3 juvenile swallows perched in the arch of a doorway, sheltering from the now heavy rain.
They looked so cosy sat together, and I didn't hesitate to take some shots.
Sunday was already planned out, as Ian had booked us on to the Lady Jayne boat trip (Mull Charters) to see the WTEs, as we had the year before. We had to be up early and enjoyed the sail around the loch to the feeding site. Alas, despite the efforts of Martin, and trying twice to tempt any eagles down, it was a no-show. We saw a manx shearwater and black guillemot, but they're not really as thrilling to see as an eagle up close.
Back on dry land, we went searching for golden eagles and found one, a juvenile high up over a ridge, being mobbed by ravens.
Really shows the size of these eagles when one is next to something large like a raven.
And the juvenile seemed pretty skilled at flying already.
Heading back, we detoured to Grasspoint, but it was very quiet, and the day ended in rather gloomy conditions, watching hen harriers on the marsh.
One actually caught something, and was spooked by a buzzard overhead, so had to carry the prey away elsewhere. Made a change from just seeing them drop into the reeds or grasses, and not appear for hours.
For the first time in the trip, I wasn't the first out, as Ian beat me to it, and found an otter coming out of a drainage pipe on the other side of the loch. I'm not sure which was more surprised, the otter or Ian! Having caught up with both, the highlight of my morning was photographing a buzzard pooping, which was delightful!
Back to the cottage for brekkie, and this time Dad and I were first back out, and we didn't take long to find something. Having stopped just down the road from the cottages, to look for otters, a bit of déjà vu with all the geese going up, quickly had me scanning the skies. Sure enough, a white-tailed eagle was on the prowl, only this time, it hadn't caught anything and flew right over us, to perch up in a tree not that far away, up the hillside.
The light was as usual terrible, but I radioed Ian and suggested he got a move on down to where we were, for some shots too!
Eventually the attention from firstly hooded crows and then ravens, persuaded the eagle to head off, back towards its nest site, though it didn't go too far, landing on some rocks on a piece of land which juts out into the loch. Too far for any pics, we soon caught up with one of the local otters, and watched as it groomed and shuffled about in amongst the seaweed.
As much as we love photographing an otter, Ian's dad found us something more interesting to shoot, when he spotted a juvenile WTE flying in, to join the adult on the rocks, though it kindly flew very close to us first.
I think it was enjoying the attention, though it soon headed off towards the adult.
For a few moments, the skies seemed to clear, but as was becoming the usual, the clouds descended once more, along with a strong breeze and then rain, and I started to wonder what weather Ian had chosen to bring with him for the week, as it was worse than the first one!
Tuesday brought some very rare sunshine, initially at least, and we were keen to try some other places. But not before the traditional marsh visit. We saw one of the local WTEs high up, using the breeze to hunt, though unsuccessfully, and it soon headed out towards the coast. A buzzard was using the same technique for watching over the marshes, and for once, we saw a hen harrier, reasonably close!
It was hunting alongside the road, mostly in front of me, but it diverted once or twice, and I took advantage.
They're such fantastic hunters to watch - wish we saw more down south. After breakfast, we tried Salen and the nearby runway for a change, though failed to see anything, and even the usual WTE site didn't deliver. Whilst driving back though, we spotted a flock of geese panicked in a field, and pulling over, saw one of the juvenile WTEs attempting to grab one, though it never got near, and disappeared into the Glen behind. We didn't follow as we had to get back for a meal in the hotel, which was rather nice, and in good company!
We were halfway through the second week, and while we'd had some success, after the shots Dad and I had bagged from the first week, I was starting to wonder if Ian would get anything as special from his time up on the Isle. Dad and I crossed our fingers and hoped he would, though time was starting to run out...
