I think everyone who follows this blog and me on social media knows my affection for the Isle Of Mull, and having spent a week there in March, I was keen to return at a more familiar time of year. Prior to the trip, as usual I had checked the weather forecast and been disappointed to see a rain symbol for every single day of the trip. It's an island, I thought, things change.
The drive up was pleasant enough and it was a relief to find that the road around Loch Lomond has finally been completed, which had often been a hold up on previous trips. As usual, after dropping the luggage into the B&B, we strolled around Oban for a short while before settling into the quayside pub, indulging in some of the ales on tap and scoffing down a meal. The weather seemed pretty changeable, and we watched the harbour briefly disappear behind a wall of rain.
After filling our stomachs with breakfast, the car with diesel and its boot with shopping, and we were soon sat on the ferry heading over to Mull. First birds seen included black guillemots, terns, gulls and gannets. And it wasn't raining either. Having sat rather impatiently waiting for someone who thought it'd be ok to be the last to return to his car despite being almost at the front of the ferry, I was soon lapping up the views along the road between Craignure and Salen. Dad adores this stretch of road, as the views are fabulous and it seems to have a micro-climate whereby we virtually always see it in sunshine.
As is tradition, we parked up at Kellan where we soon spotted the first white-tailed eagle of the trip. Soaring around the back of the trees, it was a brief view, but never a bad thing to see. As were the hen harriers I spotted on my tour of the marshes later that day. As in March, there seemed to be a number of them around, including males and at least one juvenile. Calling into another favoured area for white-tailed eagles, I managed to find the family group sat in the tall pine trees, though the constant calling of the juvenile was a bit of a giveaway! Eventually one of the adults dropped something over to the juvenile, and flew off, leaving the other adult to feed whatever it was, possibly a mountain hare, to the noisy youngster.
The first day ended, after I'd enjoyed watching a number of hen harriers return to roost, with a vibrant sunset. Welcome to Mull, I thought.
It soon became clear that the forecasts were wrong, and in a reverse to normal weather maps, the north and west of Scotland was jutting out into clear skies, leaving the rest of the UK under the rain and miserable weather that had been predicted. Our first full day didn't yield a great deal in terms of photos, though I did get some buzzard and hen harrier shots on my dawn drive. We simply enjoyed soaking up the views and ambience. It was even warm enough to sit outside the pub in Craignure for a meal. Bliss!
Remaining slightly too far away for good shots, I still sat out on the marshes until dusk hoping one of the hen harriers might come a bit closer for a shot. And while I sat smiling watching these skillful masters of the skies floating across the marshes, a part of me felt sad and angry that I have to travel so far to see this spectacle. It should be a sight in England, and would be if it weren't for a small minority of well, I can't post what I'd like to call them on here.
An early start for both of us on the Monday as we were booked on to Mull Charters' trip to see the white-tailed eagles, and setting off early gave us time to amble around the scenic route, and grab shots of anything along the way. It's always good to see Martin and the Lady Jayne, and Alex was helping out on board too. Round to Loch Na Keal and we were treated to a couple of visits from the stars.
As the mk1 was before, the Canon 7D mk2 coped admirably with tracking the eagles as they approached, swooped and grabbed the fish. And while I still wouldn't mind one of the new 100-400mm lenses, I do really like the old push-pull mech of the original, as it is so easy to adjust as the bird starts to fill the frame.
After a tour of the seal colonies, coffee and biscuits and banter with Martin and Alex, we were back on dry land and chasing golden eagles in the northwest area of the Isle. While never close, we managed to see four individuals. Plus the same number of buzzards all together in one spot, chasing one of them that appeared to be carrying a snake around. And for the third night running, we had a gorgeous sunset. Only this time, rather than only taking scenic images of the loch and hillsides, I located one of the many grey herons dotted around the area, and with the changing colours of the sunset reflected in the ripples and shallows behind, proceeded to capture some silhouettes as the heron fed.
Yet another sunny day tempted us to visit Fidden and it was glorious down there. Barely a breath of wind, the turquiose waters and golden sand were almost tempting enough to dig out a deckchair and sit on the beach. I didn't, but watched the antics of rock and meadow pipits feeding amongst the rocks and seaweed, plus a family group of rooks poking around on the grassy areas behind. And a wheatear posed quite nicely, though it kept being spooked by the many sheep feeding nearby.
My evening trip stole the show that day though. With nothing much on the marshes, I'd parked up on the north shore and was watching the many pied wagtails scuttle around. Still lots of swallows, house and sand martins whizzing overhead too. Then something much larger sailed over and I watched one of the adult white-tailed eagles deposit something to the juvenile that I'd manage to miss seeing on the hillside nearby. When the adult returned to the trees, I could see that the juvenile was now busy tearing at something, attracting numbers of hooded crows, no doubt hoping for some scraps.
Relocating to a closer view point, I was actually trembling with excitement as I photographed the four month old juvenile white-tailed eagle as it tore lumps of fur, bone and flesh from the poor mountain hare, presumably caught by one of the parent birds.
My view wasn't completely clean as there were gorse bushes on the hillside, but perhaps they worked in my favour as the eagle couldn't see me too well. Not that it was bothered, as it continued to make light work of the prey.
Apparently a hare isn't enough for a growing eagle, as it (a female, I later found out) then hopped down the slope and dragged out a carcass of a pheasant, which it then started to pick at. Not much meat left on these bones though.
She gave up trying to find any more food on it eventually, and climbed the hillside to perhaps digest supper in the last light of the day. And before I could relocate to get some shots from a different angle, she was spooked by traffic on the road, opening those enormous wings and drifting effortlessly across the glen to the trees near her parents.
Wednesday morning's drive was wet and aside from some uncooperative ravens, I didn't get much to write home about. However, the skies soon cleared and we chose to stay on the south side of the island, and see what was around locally. And it was a day of mistakes by me that caused frustration. There are many buzzards around, and where we were sat, they were constantly gliding back and forth across the glen. So much so, I foolishly took them for granted and chose to ignore them as they went. Huge mistake. As two "buzzards" went overhead, I only gave them a cursory glance, only to then see them across the glen start to circle over the trees, gaining altitude. They looked pretty big for buzzards. They weren't. A pair of golden eagles had just gone over and I'd missed them. What a prat I thought. By the time I caught up, they were soaring high up.
Then to compound my mistake, I repeated the ID error. Sat in the top of the valley, we were laughing about the horrid sound that ravens make, and seconds later, the ravens appeared, chasing two "buzzards" down the hillsides. Initially I chose to watch but then alarm bells went off as I realised these buzzards were over twice the size of the ravens. Double dose of being a prat. The same eagles I'd missed before, and again were too far away in seconds for decent shots. Argh! Awesome to see but I so wish I'd had the camera ready.
Thankfully the day had a treat in store for us both when the juvenile white-tailed eagle returned to the pheasant carcass, to pick yet more bits from it, only this time Dad was with me, to enjoy the view. Cue more pics of this impressive young bird.
More great views of the harriers at dusk, with one of the males coming pretty close for once, though it was so gloomy by then, even the new ISO capabilities of the 7D2 struggled to yield a workable result.
The wet weather promised before the trip seemed to be making its way on to the island, and Thursday's dawn trip almost didn't happen. I peered through the curtains and saw the rain lashing down; it was very tempting to stay in bed. I didn't, and as is sometimes the case on grim days, it was a wise move.
Along the shore from the digs was a lone whimbrel, initially snoozing on the seaweed. After waking, it then pottered around the small boulders, and soon plucked out some crabs trying to hide in the shadows.
It didn't both breaking them into bits, and simply wolfed them down in one go, resulting in a rather comical lump briefly appearing on its neck.
On the north shore of the loch, movement in the seaweed caught my attention. An otter. About time I caught up with one. Initially I tried to predict where it might come ashore, had some success but it doubled back, and swam past my hiding place, and further down the loch. I followed, and after settling into a hollow in the rocks, I was glad of my Paramo jacket, as the rain started to pour down once more. The otter appeared nearby, and for a moment, as I glanced upwards to see one of the local white-tailed eagles going over carrying prey, I considered following that. I didn't, and sat to see what might happen here. So glad I did, as seconds later, another otter appeared.
Initially they vanished behind one of the larger rocks beside the shore and I could every so often see them splashing around. I needed to move, but didn't want to spook them, so waited for them to climb out and dry off. With their backs to me, and with the sound of the driving rain all around, I was able to creep closer, and again find a hiding place to observe from. I could then watch them as they slid back into the loch, and seemed to play with each other, tumbling, grabbing and climbing on one another. There didn't appear to be any malice, and every so often, they'd scramble back out to dry off, and roll in the seaweed.
It was fantastic to watch and even the dreadful weather couldn't wash the smile from my face.
Eventually one of the otters headed off, away from the other and I watched it vanish up one of the streams that feed the loch. The other then clambered into the spot abandoned by the other, and rolled around in there too.
With time rolling on, I was aware that I ought to be returning to pick up Dad, though I also thought given the miserable weather, he'd not be that keen on venturing out. So I thought I should just quickly check on the eagles along the road, given that one had been seen earlier taking prey over. Might be worth a quick look before going back...
Parking in my preferred place, I scanned the area and failed to see any. On the shore area, where the tide had retreated I noticed a couple heading down to the water, and based on that I thought my luck was out and was about to leave when I saw the juvenile white-tailed eagle lift off from the ground near the couple, and fly upwards. Grabbing my camera, I had taken my eyes from it for a couple of seconds, thinking it was going to be flying close to me, but when I looked back, it'd gone. Bizarre! Or had it? Scanning the trees close to the shore I made out the rather enormous shape of it, sat quite low down in the branches of a tree beside the road. And when a car went underneath, she didn't budge. I had to chance it.
Driving round and past, I parked up outside the cottages, and opened the door slowly, craning my neck to peer out and upwards. She was sat there, looking out at the loch. Initially I took some pics from inside the car, and with a torrential downpour, had to sit and wait. I hoped the weather wouldn't rob me of this opportunity. It didn't, and she was still sat on the branch after the rain passed, and I tried to get out. She didn't bat an eyelid, so I grabbed my monopod and started to get some better angled shots.
After a few mins, I noticed Bryan approaching with his wildlife tour and beckoned them over. As with the other traffic that had passed when I was stood there, including a deafening tractor and trailor, the eagle sat still, and his group were able to enjoy the same breathtaking view of the bird as me.
Eventually they left, and I decided to also leave with the eagle in place. I hoped I could collect Dad, and get back with her in situ, but on our return, she'd relocated to one of the other trees, much further back. The remainder of the day was more for seeing distant things, such as golden eagles and later ended with more views of harriers, though as normal a bit far off and too dark!
Friday already, and we chose to try the road to Lochbuie and Croggan as I've seen plenty there in the past and the area by the huge yew tree and graveyard is often a sheltered but stunning location to simply admire the view. Whilst scanning the shore along that route, I spotted a rock that was moving. Now normally rocks don't do this, so I took a closer look and confirmed my suspicion. An otter, and this time Dad was with me to enjoy the view.
The otter had been eating something and stayed on the shore for a few moments to clean up, before slipping out of sight under the seaweed. As the weather improved, the wildlife seemed to become harder to find, and we found our way to the Craignure Inn for a bite to eat before returning south, and on my evening tour, the only bird of note photographed was a sparrowhawk, which was sat on a fence drying out after diving into the vegetation unsuccessfully moments before.
Amusingly, as is often the case with the presence of such a bird, all other smaller birds fell silent, apart from one mipit, which decided to fly past the hawk, calling out. The sprawk seemed as surprised as I was, and after a second glance, took flight to chase the daft creature. Fortune fell on the side of the pipit when it managed to dive out of harm's way to escape.
The end of a packed week of wildlife on Mull and only halfway through the trip. More of the same, I hoped for the second week.
Over the years I have often found that this time of the year isn't all that great for photographing birds. I think last year I drove all around mid-Wales and came home with a solitary image of a juvenile robin, something I could have captured in my garden. Add to this, the temperature and heat haze, and unless the bird is close, the shots can be a little soft. Hence, I usually dig out my macro lens, and go in search of something much smaller, and closer.
A friend who is very interested in butterflies mentioned he'd been to a place called Grafton Wood, which is one of Worcestershire Wildlife Trust's sites, in search of purple hairstreaks. He'd seen them before, but said it was a good spot for them. As I researched where the reserve was located, I realised I had been exploring the surrounding area the day before! And had found a spotted flycatcher as I looked.
But that was about the only thing I'd seen, so I set off in search of these purple hairstreaks. As usual, I was so keen on getting to the site, I forgot to do any research on the butterflies themselves, and even managed to miss the information on the boards at the reserve entrance. I had however, spoken to a couple of knowledgeable people who had advised I look at pink coloured flowers, as the hairstreaks had been feeding on them. The pink flowers turned out to be called hemp-agrimony (which is what I had been told but the name failed to register each time) and there was a large bush at the top of the path leading up into the woods.
And on it, were many small butterflies, most of which I had seen before. But one was a bit different, and by deduction based on my woeful lack of knowledge, I hoped it might be a purple hairstreak. Didn't look very purple though, but I could get close, and grabbed a few shots before it flew off, when a large hornet thundered around the flowers.
I was just looking at the back of my camera, when I was joined by three men who had been exploring the woods in search of butterflies. I asked them if they wouldn't mind ID-ing what I'd photographed and I was excitedly told it was actually a brown hairstreak. They also told me that to see the purple variety, I should walk only a few dozen yards along the path, and turn off to the left, to check out more clumps of the hemp-agrimony where they'd just seen some.
Excellent, and off I went, leaving them to scan the area for the brown I'd just seen. The path was exactly where they'd said, and was a hive of insect activity. I scanned each clump of flowers, but couldn't see any more of the hairstreaks, so continued my stroll through the reserve. And what a fabulous place it is, especially on such a hot afternoon. Insects everywhere, from bees, wasps, flies, hornets and beetles, to butterflies, moths and some rather large crickets. And the scent of the flowers was gorgeous too.
Not knowing where I was going, nor having any sort of plan, I just mooched around, and found an area which was a mass of colour, and seemed to be attracting all manner of butterflies. Brimstones were fluttering all around, so I chased them, eventually catching one as it landed on a yellow flower. In the bright sunshine, it was a job to keep a lid on the exposure though, so took a shot, checked and then adjusted to get better ones.
There were also commas, small coppers, gatekeepers, meadow browns, silver-washed fritillaries, common blues and a few brown argus butterflies, all in this one area. But getting shots wasn't that easy, as with all the warmth from the sun, they were full of energy and off like a shot, if you failed to approach very stealthily.
But I was after hairstreaks, so I retraced my steps back to the area I'd been before, and this time was in for a treat. On one of the flower heads was a small butterfly, similar to the one I'd seen before but more of a pale colour, grey even, though when it caught the sunlight, it shimmered with an almost metallic appearance. A purple hairstreak, my first. And right in front of me too.
Now here's the funny part. I was under the impression that the purple ones were the ones to get, and that the browns were more common, and tried to get shots of the purple ones when brown hairstreaks were closer! Thankfully I applied one of the best rules in wildlife photography, which is take advantage of what's in front of you, rather than chase after something else.
And only later that evening when airing the shots on social media, did I realise that the browns were actually the most sought after! Fortunately I'd bagged a lot of shots of them and it was these that attracted the attention of my old friend Steve Seal, who really wanted some images himself of a brown hairstreak.
Cue a meeting on Saturday morning, and we (with his partner Tracey and their dog, Jess) were scouring the woods again for hairstreaks. Problem was this time it had rained heavily the day before, and the air-temperature was about 8 degrees down on when I'd been there before. Persistence is the key, and eventually Steve spotted a brown hairstreak on a leaf beside the main path, and he got the shots he was after.
While they returned to their car for lunch and a drink for the dog, I headed off to find the ponds; an area supposedly good for the hairstreaks. Like the rest of the wood that day, it proved fruitless on that score, but there were good numbers of dragonflies buzzing around. And they seemed to be doing circuits of the area, which prompted me to change out the 100mm macro lens, for my 100-400mm. Using the most accurate centre point focus spot, I then set about trying to focus on the dragonflies as they hunted over the water. Not easy. But fun... Mostly, by the time I'd got the focus to almost lock on, the dragonfly would move elsewhere, or the focus would pick up part of the backdrop instead. But I don't give up that easily, and as with photographing fast movers like swallows and hobbies, I started to get my eye in.
Success, and with the rapid shot-firing of the 7D Mk2, I could get bursts each time. This gave a greater chance of getting the dragonfly in focus, or at least the right part of it.
After gettings shots of the southern hawker, I moved on to the much smaller common darters, and amazingly picked off some shots of these too.
That was pretty much it for that day, though we found time after for a pint and catch up chat. And, with fair weather on the Sunday, I returned for yet another go at these butterflies.
It was again warmer, but the flowers were being patrolled by more hornets, and I watched one catch a gatekeeper, and whisk it off to a nearby tree. Here, whilst hanging from a branch, the hornet tucked into the poor butterfly. No wonder the butterflies were flighty when trying to photograph them, with these threats around! Having checked all the usual spots, I found out from another visitor that he'd seen a brown hairstreak up by the ponds, and despite hearing from a friend who'd just come back from there that nothing was there, I continued for a look.
Beside the newer of the two ponds is a large bush of the hemp-agrimony and within moments of me getting there, a brown hairstreak (a male) arrived and settled on the flower.
I duely attracted the attentions of anyone that passed by so they could also see this fine specimen, and I have to say, it was lovely to see the excitement and thrill several people expressed upon seeing this species for the first time.
After getting a lot of images, I chose to leave the butterfly alone with the group of admirers, and head home. Stopping along the way for a cricket or grasshopper if it presented itself for me to photograph...
I'm really glad I visited the reserve, am chuffed to bits with the photographs I have captured, and also to have learned quite a bit about these butterflies from some of the enthusiasts I've chatted to along the way.
While Shetland offers opportunities to photograph wildlife rarely seen elsewhere in the UK, it's not a place to head to if you love raptors, which of course I do. Back home, after sorting through the thousands of images from that trip, I was keen not to miss out on anything that might turn up.
Cue a red-footed falcon, which was spotted near an old colliery in Staffordshire. The first day it was reported, I had decided to visit the long-staying melodious warbler near Marsh Lane, which had also decided to depart the night before I got there. After all the comments about it being one for constantly singing, the absence of anything other than linnets singing, was a bit of a clue, so I ended up photographing the numerous swallows skimming the crop fields for flying insects. Challenging with a tripod-mounted lens.
I waited for confirmation via news on Twitter that the falcon was still around, and drove up the M6 to find initially the pin on the Bird Guides app was nowhere near the bird. Thankfully the postcode mentioned was bang on, and the crowds reassured me that I was at the right spot. Sat on a concrete post by some sort of outbuilding in a horses' paddock, was the red-footed falcon. A new one for me (in the UK). I'd say tick, but I've had to deal with them in Uist, and I'd rather avoid such things, even verbally.
The light wasn't great but at least the falcon was active, and flew between a variety of perching posts, as well as swooping down on to anything moving in the grass below.
Occasionally it would leave the area and vanish into the nature reserve behind us all, and despite looking none of us would find it, only to hear that it had returned to the paddock again shortly after.
It also gave me a good chance to catch up with friends who had also turned up to see the falcon, and it wasn't long before the usual amusing banter started, keeping us all giggling while the falcon was off on one of its absent spells. And we'd all fall silent again on its return, taking shots aplenty of this lovely rarity.
When Dave (Hutton) who had been to see the melodious warbler over twenty times, also failed to find it, I knew it had gone, so turned my attentions elsewhere. Initially I took leisurely drives down to the Cotswolds, which had been the destination to head to earlier in the year with the short-eared owls, but was now a lot busier with tourists, and the wildlife much harder to find. The fields where hares had been scampering across in February, were now waist-high with crops or wild flowers, so almost impossible to see anything in, though one roe deer decided to take a look around, lifting his head above the crops before slowly, almost comically dropping back down and out of sight.
There were hares around, though none close. I did see more deer though, with a pair of roe deer fawns enjoying what the meadow had to offer their taste buds.
And on another trip, yet another roe deer watching me from an overgrown track. Also watching me, from a couple of feet away was a stoat, but was gone the moment I turned my head to look at it. Too close for a photo with the gear I had out of the bag though.
Something now often seen over the hills of the Cotswolds are red kites, and while they can be a bit hit and miss in that area, I chose to head to an area where they are plentiful, to maximise my chances of a shot. The Chilterns.
Didn't take long to see them, but I was hoping to get some shots of them perched up for a change. Taking as many narrow winding country lanes as I could find, I eventually arrived at a common, being mowed by several tractors and, following behind were maybe twenty or so red kites.
Mostly, as they do at Gigrin, they were swooping down at speed, and snatching anything left behind the mowers from the ground, before devouring it on the wing.
But occasionally, one would land to eat, and that was what I hoped to see. Eventually one did just that, and not far from where I was watching. It seemed to have spotted something larger than the usual grubs, and initially seemed to mantle it after landing.
Whatever it was, didn't last long and with a flick of its neck, the kite wolfed it down. However, instead of flying off, this one decided to take a stroll, perhaps enjoying the scent of the freshly mown grass? This of course was fantastic for me to watch, and I grabbed a few shots as it moved around at ground level.
After the kites dispersed, I continued my tour and struck gold or should I say red, when I noticed a kite sat on a telegraph pole in a small hamlet. I was able to park up and without spooking the kite, get some very close shots.
I have to admit to being somewhat envious of the residents, to be able to look out of a window and see one of these majestic raptors sat at eye-level nearby. Certainly beats the wood pigeons that occupy most of the perches around my road.
Then, just as I was following signs back to the M40, I saw another land up in a tree, and it didn't immediately fly off when I opened the car door to take the shot.
Keeping the red kite theme going, my next excursion was to the Elan Valley, though I didn't plan to take in the spectacle that is Gigrin Farm. No, I was more interested in tootling around the lakes and cascading streams, to see what I could find.
First to grab my attention were some barn swallows. They had perched up on a fence beside the road, and unlike the redstarts and whinchats that had zipped away as I rolled up, these sat still. Perhaps enjoying some warmer sunshine after the unusually cold spell of weather lately.
Rounding a corner, a flicker of red caught my eye and I spotted a male redstart sat on a post. The light wasn't brilliant, slightly harsh, but he didn't fly away.
On the same corner, were masses of house martins and were too tempting, with the glorious blue skies behind, not to linger for. Too fast for the big lens, it was out with the 100-400mm and even then it was a challenge to get them.
Another lens change was required shortly after, to take in the fabulous views across the lake, with the calm conditions, the water turned into a mirror.
Seeing yet another flash of a red tail near the road, prompted me to park yet again, and I was just about to get out to creep up on the juvenile redstart hopping along the roadside posts, when a much larger character swooped in. A common buzzard, and it landed only a few dozen yards from me across the road.
It didn't seem to be in any hurry to leave. Better still, for once, no cars seemed to be around, so it wasn't scared off. It was however, very interested in something moving below the fence, out of sight of the road.
Suddenly it dropped down from the post, and seconds later returned, albeit slightly further away, with something held firmly in one talon.
A lizard, and unfortunately for it, the buzzard proceeded to take ahold of it by the head. Had it been the other end, I'm sure the lizard might have shed its tail to escape.
But not this time, and after a few wriggly seconds, the lizard had been devoured.
And moments later, a car approached and the buzzard departed. I spent the remainder of the day exploring, but the area was now awash with sightseers and the wildlife all but departed. Walking down to one of the streams, I hoped to maybe see a dipper, but in fact found a family of grey wagtails, the fledglings dotted around on the rocks. The parents were busily fluttering up and down the water, grabbing insects, and then delivering them to the demanding youngsters.
Fun to watch but less so with all the biting insects nearby, and after grabbing some shots of the feeding process, I fleed to the safety of my car.
Back out on the road again, I eventually caught up with a whinchat, but it wasn't close and soon flew off when a noisy Harley Davidson thundered by.
Time to head east and see what August might bring...
