Ayrshire Birding in Autumn

Backwoodsman has ventured out to the coast several times in recent weeks, hoping to catch sight of recently-arrived Knot but it has been a massive Knot fail, alas. It was hoped that a Knot post could have been finished off by now but it will have to wait for some more images. Other subjects have been available, some familiar but set off by very good light, and others unexpected in their locations. All have formed the subjects of their own posts but it is hoped that you will not mind the repetition.

The images were captured over trips to Barassie, Troon and Stevenston between the beginning of October and mid-November. You can take the train to Barassie and walk to Troon, or vice versa; it depends on the timing of the high tide and what you hope to see. The Stinking Rocks at Barassie are a good high tide roost for shore birds; the Ballast Bank at Troon used to be. South Beach at Troon has really good foraging for the smaller waders so the order of business can be planned to take in good sites just around and at high tide. Stevenston has similar foraging and roosting sites but it is on another train line so tends to be a separate trip.

Turnstones have been reliable sightings at Barassie; Backwoodsman was fortunate to find them foraging and then gliding* to a roosting site as the tide rose.

The foraging birds prompted a curious conversation with a lady walking a dog. “Was I getting some good photographs?”, she asked on approach. I indicated that I was hopeful because of the quality of the light.

Her dog was chasing the Turnstones which were probing for the small creatures in the benthic zone where the rising tide lapped the sand. Unfortunately, Backwoodsman’s face is known to give an all-too-accurate account of what he is feeling. “Oh”, she said, “these birds enjoy teasing my dog.” This was an odd remark because she seemed interested to know which birds Backwoodsman was looking at, implying some kind of interest in species other than canine.

Many people engaged Backwoodsman in conversation that morning. All of them had a dog or three and all the animals were running wild. The humans were all excited because there were five Little Egrets on the Stinking Rocks. Backwoodsman had been watching the Egrets foraging as the tide rose but could only get a decent image of four of the five on the rocks.

Could this be a family group, still together following a successful breeding season? These birds absolutely shone in the morning light so it is unsurprising that they attracted attention. Fortunately, the photographic software has a tool (the Highlights slider) to control very bright areas so some texture can be revealed on the flank of the Egret.

No-one seemed to have noticed the Golden Plovers sitting behind the Egrets, Backwoodsman’s first sighting of these glorious birds this season. The same could be said for the Redshanks (them being unnoticed); later, on Troon North Beach, Backwoodsman caught up with some feeding birds and enjoyed their bustle and all their different postures.

The Ballast Bank used to be a good place to find Golden Plovers, Dunlin, Knot and Purple Sandpipers, but things seem to have changed. Backwoodsman has failed to see a single shorebird on the Ballast Bank rocks on any of his previous six or seven visits; this seems very odd, because it really does look like a good place to sit out the high tide. Unfortunately, the rising tide attracts potential disturbance in the form of a wild swimming group (Backwoodsman has named them the Troon Tadpoles). The rocks favoured by the shorebirds are adjacent to an area of shingle used to enter and leave the water. So, wild swimmers waddling about and eating cake in Dryrobes every day, yes! Shorebirds, no more. This is not a reliable line of causation but it is interesting that the timelines match – that is, pre-pandemic, lots of birds, post-pandemic and everybody getting mennl-elf and wanting to freeze their bits off in public, no birds. Backwoodsman will probably now excise the Ballast Bank from his route and go straight from North Beach to South Beach by the shorter road route.

On the last visit to Troon, Backwoodsman failed to find any Dunlin on South Beach. The foreshore had been remodelled by a storm and the kelp was piled wide and deep over the places where Dunlin usually forage. Backwoodsman will have to wait to find numbers of these exquisite birds elsewhere, or perhaps just later in the winter. It has been possible to find the odd one or two; again, Barassie came up with the goods. Such light!

There were also one or two at Stevenston when we visited at the weekend (16th November 2024) but the main species present were Ringed Plovers and Sanderlings.

It was a big high tide and there was a small promontory of sand left exposed; all the small waders were at its edge with the Sanderlings being driven from left to right, and back again, by a man kicking a tennis ball for his dog. Backwoodsman took advantage of this disturbance by dropping to the sand and keeping very still. The Sanderlings came by, sometimes running, sometimes on the wing.

The light rose and fell as a squall blew in from over Arran and some pleasing images were had before the horizontal rain forced an end to the business. A stealthy exit saw to it that the birds were not disturbed further.

Backwoodsman feels that these images are better than what was available when the Sanderlings post was compiled; he hopes that you find them pleasing. He doesn’t know where he is going to find any Knot though!

Finally, the Curlew of the Stinking Rocks – there always seems to be one there and Backwoodsman is always very pleased to see it. Unlike the hundreds at roost at Cardross, this one seems relatively relaxed about walkers on the shore so long as they keep their distance.

Curlew are under pressure from habitat destruction and disturbance and one member of the group of thirteen Numenii species (Curlew, Whimbrel and Godwits) is no more. This morning (18th November 2024) at 0600 hours, the Radio Four Today Programme  carried the news that the Slender-billed Curlew, a species of bird that historically was a regular visitor to the Mediterranean, is very likely to be extinct.

This follows the news (28th October 2024) that four other species of shorebird that regularly visit the UK have just been uplisted on the IUCN Red List: Grey Plover and Curlew Sandpiper as Vulnerable to global extinction, and Dunlin and Turnstone as Near Threatened. Much cause for concern then. Perhaps these birds would all do better if they didn’t waste their energy teasing dogs?

*Re the gliding photograph: some of you may spot that one of the birds is very much in summer kit. Indeed it is; Backwoodsman is cheating, having taken this photograph in May! It would be a shame not to post it though.

Snipe

To introduce this species, Backwoodsman offers a fine colour woodcut by Allen William Seaby (please see this one too). The bird and its habitat are drawn and coloured beautifully. Backwoodsman hopes you are getting the impression that this creature may be well camouflaged and therefore quite difficult to see?

Snipe have been on Backwoodsman’s wishlist for a long time but it has just never been the right time to get them in the camera. On a winter day several years ago, Backwoodsman went to RSPB Lochwinnoch with the birdscope but without the camera – together with the necessary tripod, birdscope and camera make for a most uncomfortable pack. Just outside the Visitors Centre window, a scrummage of small waders was underway. A helpful volunteer identified the participants as Snipe. Backwoodsman was transfixed; not only were they a completely mad shape with their long, straight bills but they seemed to be jumping on and over each other in a scene of chaos and frenzy. Fast forward to the Old Racecourse at Irvine; we heard unearthly sounds all around us but could not see any birds; Snipe, said the Merlin App. We were hearing the famous drumming (vide infra). The Stevenston Ponds are reedy and shallow; on a winter visit, a small group of birds exploded from the margin before us and sped away on sharp wings. Our eyes are in by now – the birds are Snipe – but they’ve gone.

How to get onto them with the camera? There is a problem with Snipe; their habit is to conceal themselves while foraging or resting. Baclwoodsman’s RSPB bird book describes them as secretive and the RSPB website has them skulking.

John Clare’s poem to the species (“To the Snipe”) resents the extent to which boys and men with dogs and guns clatter through the natural world disturbing everything and shooting anything slow enough. Of Snipe, he says they are:

“Hiding in spots that never knew his tread
A wild and timid clan
…That from man’s dreaded sight will ever steal
To the most dreary spot”

Backwoodsman behaves a bit like this on Avanti trains so it’s going to be a tough gig to get the images he seeks. Fast forward again to the very end of September 2024 when we visited RSPB Baron’s Haugh. We haven’t usually done very well there – regular readers may remember a slightly disgruntled post from the very beginning of the year (Kingfishers, January 27th) but we decided to give it a punt on a rather grey Saturday. We arrived and from the Causeway Hide, we could see a lot of Lapwings; the autumn season sees a gathering of these beautiful birds at the Haugh.

The hide was busy, and suddenly, so was the sky, as it filled with birds. We looked up and around for raptors but the reason was rather less ethereal. A large atgani chap broke cover on the far side of the Haugh – wearing your camo undies would seem like nugatory effort if you’re going to stand on the birds’ heads.

But there were many Snipe too. At the river, Backwoodsman was able to find the vantage point where the atgani had showed up, and take up a similar forward position, but was able to use the cover much more effectively. There were Snipe right in the foreground, with some attractive dead wood to set them off. There were also Snipe on the wing; the overall impression was that hundreds of birds were present, which was very surprising to Backwoodsman. The book says that Snipe will “gather together in groups and fly in loose flocks called ‘wisps'”.

We get wintering birds in the UK – is it possible that we saw a large group of winter migrants (it was definitely a bit more than a wisp!) just arrived and yet to disperse? The EuroBird Portal does appear to show a lot of movement activity around the end of September.

Baron’s Haugh has undergone a certain amount of remodelling recently, seeking to re-establish a connection between the River Clyde and its natural floodplain. There seemed to be a fair bit of water on the Haugh and it may be that there are more stances for Snipe away from potential predators. The view of the warden (via email) was that, firstly, there were always a lot of birds on the reserve in the winter, and that secondly, they had created quite a few new places where the birds could feel safe from predators (if not entirely from atganis) and stand about in plain sight, rather than skulk.

Backwoodsman found several examples of actions (three links here, one per word) designed to support these and related birds through focused conservation work in the UK.

The Snipe could be confused for a Godwit at extreme range because of the very straight bill, but there can be no mistake once the proportions and plumage can be taken in.

In “To the Snipe”, John Clare wrote:

For here thy bill
Suited by wisdom good
Of rude unseemly length doth delve and drill
The gelid mass for food

The bill – “…of rude unseemly length”; guess he means it strikes him as unusual. Dominic Couzens writes:

“The Snipe’s long, straight bill is the perfect tool for probing deeply into the soft mud, and as a result the Snipe is indeed the champion probe-feeder among waders. It will feed whenever the substrate is not too hard, and it especially favours the edges of pools and puddles. Where the earth or mud is rich it will stand still in one place for some time, making a series of insertions on the spot, leaving behind a semicircle of small holes. And once the bill is in place, the Snipe will often vibrate it a little, and pull it up and down, feeling around in the mud for movement a few centimetres below its feet. The bill is a feat of biological engineering. At the tip it is fitted (as are the bills of most species in this family) with millions of tiny touch-receptors that are wired to a special part of the brain. The receptor organs come in two kinds, one detecting pressure and the other detecting shearing movement. Together they provide the Snipe with an exceptionally fine sense of touch at the bill tip, easily enough to pick up the presence or movement of particles nearby in the mud. The Snipe’s bill also demonstrates another, more unusual trick: it can be opened only at the tip, so that food can be picked up and swallowed without the bird having to remove its bill from the mud. The bill structure is not especially rigid; the component bones and connectors can move relative to one another, an arrangement known as rhynchokinesis. The trick then is mechanical: if the bill is bent slightly at its near end, the bend can be transmitted to the tip such that the rest of the bill remains closed. In this way the Snipe’s bill tip can pinch a worm or insect larva in situ, and the long tongue can then transport the food item up towards the mouth.”

“…the Snipe is indeed the champion probe-feeder among waders.”  Just imagine the machinery of evolution slowly but inexorably clicking into place to deliver such exquisite adaptation and performance. Backwoodsman would love to find the primary literature which sets out the taxonomy of the Snipe bill in detail; it must be the stuff of true wonder.

And there is more, again from Couzens: “The bill is not the only unusual anatomical feature of the Snipe; it also has a modified tail. Most waders have 12 tail feathers, but the Snipe has 14 or sometimes more. The very outermost of these are specially stiffened and attached to the body by independent muscles, such that they can be splayed out from the rest of the tail. When a Snipe indulges in one of its rising and plummeting display-flights high in the air, the wind passing by these outermost feathers causes them to vibrate and to make a distinctive buzzing sound (“drumming”), a little like the bleating of a sheep. The sound adds an instrumental dimension to the display, without the bird having to go to the trouble of singing. The sound made by the feathers varies according how susceptible to wear they are; worn-out feathers presumably make a less attractive sound than intact ones.” Here is a a good recording of this remarkable sound. As usual, the Featherbase site allows us to see all the feathers; on the left of the left hand image (IMG241) is a group of 14 feathers which may be the tail array.

John Clare regretted that men found themselves compelled to go boldly and unwelcome into the realm of the Snipe and disturb these beautiful birds (like our atgani). Or possibly, boldly go. Intrusions seem to be much in the news just now with the mounting tide of inane froth about space travel. And now we have Prof Brian Cox at it, being anointed cultural heir to David Attenborough and getting a new series on the BBC. “‘Human race needs to expand beyond Earth,’ says Prof Brian Cox.” Basically, we’ve screwed everything we can out of this planet, so we need to go pillage another one to maintain our ridiculous modes of consumption and waste. Anyone familiar with Attenborough’s elegiac coverage of our fading natural world will find Cox’s brassy rapacity an abrupt and unwelcome change of tone.

Though there could be some potential positives – our finest billionaires heading for the stars in spaceships which then go ‘pop’ (like those rich chumps diving to the Titanic wreck in a submarine which went ‘pop’ implosively), would probably improve the prospects of the species.      

It was so pleasing to get anywhere near some Snipe; it would seem unlikely that Backwoodsman will ever get any nearer to one unless some birds show up right outside a quiet hide somewhere. It is tempting to crop tighter and make the images bigger but the quality deteriorates. Perhaps this one is worthwhile; even though there is grain, some of the markings come out nicely and the postures are pleasing. Soon, it will be time for wintering waders at the coast and waterfowl on the lakes, and Backwoodsman hopes, lots of new material.

PS. Some of you may be interested in this petition at Change.org. UK government (DEFRA) is considering permitting the sale of millions of elvers (baby eels) from Gloucester to Russia next spring.  Already last year they allowed the export of 1 tonne (3 million individuals) of this critically endangered species. These elvers will be sold to Kaliningrad, a known transit point for the vast smuggling trade in elvers, the most smuggled wildlife in the world by numbers and by value. This all sounds most regrettable.

Swallows

In her first novel Oranges are not the only Fruit published in 1985, Jeanette Winterson described the strange upbringing of a young girl beset by an oddly religious parent. As if this were not challenge enough, she is forced to learn cross stitch at school. She produces a sampler bearing the following legend, from Jeremiah (8:20):

THE SUMMER IS ENDED AND WE ARE NOT YET SAVED

Academics huddled in the trenches and waiting for the whistles to blow and send them over the top to face the machine-gunned demands of wonks, and all those students with mennl-elf, will recognise the peculiar melancholy brought on by the second half of September. June came and you were confident of getting those calculations run, making some starting materials for some project students to do wonderful things with in the autumn, writing and submitting that grant, preparing all your classes and supporting materials in good time and order, and finishing those four star papers. But no-one would ever leave you alone for more than half–a-day at a time…and now ” The summer is ended etc.” And to make matters worse, many of the birds of summer are heading south, and it will be a while before wintering birds reach us.

Backwoodsman has probably had his last sight of an Osprey over the Clyde estuary for this season (end of July in this case), and it seems most likely that the Hirundines will have left us too by the time this post is made.

Very unusually, Backwoodsman cannot remember his first sight of a European Barn Swallow with any confidence, which is a little disturbing. There are half memories of birds passing across the surfaces of school cricket fields, fast enough to set the dry grass of the outfield aflame, but the details which usually anchor these memories cannot be found. Instead, it was an enamel badge which provided Backwoodsman’s first recoverable memories of the Swallow.

A very small Backwoodsman wore a dark green anorak which was covered in enamel badges; he didn’t really care what they were and he lacked affiliation with any of the organisations represented upon them, but if he liked the badge, that was it. They could have been anything; a nice bit of enamel and it’s on there and worry about it later when you get quizzed by grown-ups. But this one is not to be forgotten; what a piece of design! The bird is styled superbly and the sunburst echoes the Kyokujitsu-ki  or Rising Sun Flag of Japan (another great bit of graphic design) persuasively. Details of the travel organisation which had these badges made are not to be found by Backwoodsman, alas.

The BTO tells us that “Swallows must be amongst the most popular birds – their arrival each spring in the northern hemisphere presages the onset of summer. Swallows are easily recognised with their slender bodies, long pointed wings and forked tails; martins tend to have much less deeply forked tails. While the deeply forked tails may help their manoeuverability in pursuing aerial insects, in many species they are also used as a signal of male quality, those who can grow longer, and importantly symmetrical, streamers being the most favoured by the females.”

Swallows like the sawmill at Cardross and the place where the Geilston Burn spills out over the mud. Backwoodsman suspects that they make nests in the big (barn-like) shed at the western end of the sawmill yard. On a recent visit, Backwoodsman found a group of Swallows of various vintages. The young ones still have the yellow “feed me” mask.

Backwoodsman attempted to track birds either taking insects from the surface of the burn, or drinking from the fresh water as it ran out into the estuary; it is hard to tell which. Better executions of these images would win competitions –  these would not.

We are told that the way to get good shots of fast-moving birds on the wing is to anticipate where they will be, pull a focus on that space, wait for the bird to enter and then fire. Of course, focussing on thin air is a challenge, so you have to find something solid at about about the right focal range (some ripples on the water in these cases) and hope for the best. As you need a fast shutter and therefore probably a wide aperture to keep the ISO down, your depth of field will be shallow and the scope for error almost unlimited. This is what you get, v1.0. Backwoodsman is a mere novice when it comes to birds on the wing.

Sometimes, the Swallows are still – they must get quite tired from all their “hawking“. Backwoodsman has failed to find a satisfactory definition of this term, though it is very widely used. Presumably it means to fly rapidly after prey and catch it on the wing? Swallow flight has been studied quantitatively using fast cameras and wind tunnels (and written up in an open access paper): there is something called the Strouhal number which relates wing beats and speed. The quantitative work has wingbeats around 7-8.5 Hz and speeds across the ground of up to 14 m s-1, or of the order of 30 mph in Rees-Mogg units. There is, of course, some infamous discussion about Swallow flight dynamics in Monty Python and the Holy Grail, which you will find here, and here.

Somewhat aspirationally perhaps, InterCity trains used to sport a swallow livery. This recollection got Backwoodsman thinking about the national rail system we used to have, and the fragmented thing we have now, and how the future of rail transport is being ransomed by HS2; the thoughts follow a depressing trajectory. No-one can revel in the national pickle that is HS2 but there is some amusement to be had from the situation. In the recent Panorama programme  HS2: The Railway that Blew Billions, Andrew Gilligan says (see 38:30-39:50) of Johnson, grand emperor of “levelling up”, “he quite liked big, stupid projects…of course, this was big and stupid to an extraordinary degree…”.

When Swallows do sit still in good light, their semi-iridescence can be enjoyed fully. There is a nice walk from Bishopbriggs towards Kirkintilloch along the Forth and Clyde Canal and it passes through an awkward space beneath the Hungryside Bridge, where your life may be taken by a weekend warrior on a bicycle. The bridge seems to be a Swallow nesting site and we were fortunate to find some birds resting. It was early May; presumably, they were busy building nests, or possibly looking after eggs. They look in really good condition.

Swallows are said to return to the places where they hatched and fledged; Crianlarich station has hosted nesting Swallows for as long as we have been visiting. They make nests on the tops of small pillars which are up close to the roof. Crianlarich station really isn’t busy and the Swallows will have hours without disturbance while they gorge themselves; there are always plenty of insects in the Highlands when the sun comes out. This image was taken in mid-June and the birds were definitely on eggs by then.

If Backwoodsman was a Swallow, he would head south through the UK while the weather was good, feeding up along the way, before starting on the long flight to South Africa. The EuroBirdPortal shows the Swallows clearing out of Europe almost completely around mid-November in 2023. The data for the UK is a bit confusing, but it is interesting to follow the timeline from the end of January, as the birds begin to show up on the Iberian peninsula, and then flood north and east through the rest of the landmass. Backwoodsman will be waiting.

Sandwich Terns

Our first sighting of Sandwich Terns came at Ardmore Point in 2017 – we saw birds on a rock out in the River and sought help from the bird app. They really weren’t difficult to identify – they look more dramatic and more imposing than the other Terns seen frequently in the UK. The image was acquired on older kit and is grainy, nice mussels though.

We waited a while to see the birds again; an August trip to Stevenston Point in 2023 provided the opportunity. While Troon shimmered in the distance, Sandwich Terns flew in to sit on the old pipeline which heads out from the foreshore.

They were a large and mixed group of adults and chicks. The chicks have dark ends to white feathers; adults which have bred, moult out their black caps leaving them with a head which appears to sport an inexpertly blow-dried tonsure.

In full fig, the cap of the adult bird is intensely black and glossy; just when you thought the Terns of the southern ocean had all the style going, here is pure greyscale chic. And what a shape to be throwing!

The odd bird from this large group went fishing and came back with prey; unfortunately, none of the images of birds bearing Sandeels or Rockling are good enough to share.

Most of the birds were sedentary, seeming to wait for a turn in the tide, or the wind. We left them sitting along the pipeline; we hoped that none of the Ayrshire dog walkers would aim their animals at the birds, as they are wont to do when there are waders or other birds on the shoreline.

Like other Terns, these birds come to the shores of the UK to breed. As autumn arrives, they head south to Africa to over-winter. Backwoodsman is interested in where this group of birds at Stevenston has come from in the short term. The mixture of chicks and adult birds would suggest proximity to a breeding site – but where? This remains an open question.

It seems entirely reasonable that the locations of breeding sites are not publicised, unless they are located within protected areas. The NNR site at Forvie is a celebrated example of a successful Sandwich Tern breeding colony (though it did suffer when the Avian ‘Flu was at its peak).

The Terns make nests in the dunes at Forvie, with pairs packed in tightly. Unlike some of the other Tern species, they do not defend their breeding sites , responding to trespass and intrusion by abandoning their eggs.

Backwoodsman’s attempts to find reports of breeding sites on the west coast turned up a reference to Loch Ryan and a project funded by Equinor, a major generator of renewable electricity through wind farm installations. The project website claims that there are no Sandwich Tern breeding sites on the west coast of Scotland. “While these birds can still be spotted regularly in the local area, there is no longer any nesting activity of Sandwich terns around Loch Ryan or, indeed, across the west of Scotland.”

The project website refers to a now lost former breeding site on Loch Ryan and proposes to create de novo a purpose built environment high up the Loch. This sounds great; why, you ask, would Equinor bother? It appears that Equinor’s establishment of major wind farm capacity on the east coast may militate against Sandwich Tern migration and foraging, and that the west coast activity will take place in mitigation. BTO research appears to show that Sandwich Terns learn to avoid areas of the coast which have high turbine density, funnelling their activity through more open space. They also seem to be quite dependent upon Sandeels – this dependence seems to be bad news for seabirds generally due to fishery pressure, an issue discussed in the Puffin post, and revisited recently on the BBC.

Equinor own 80% of the Rosebank Field off Shetland, which was in the news again recently; its proposed expansion is now subject to judicial review which the UK government has decided not to fight, should the review find against the granting of further licenses. Backwoodsman scoured the list of new Renewable Energy Contracts (Contracts for Difference Allocation Round 6 results) announced today, but didn’t find Equinor in the document. Have they gone off renewables a bit, ermm, going forward?

So yet another species against which modern life seems to raising all kinds of barricades. Backwoodsman was reminded of his attendance at a reading by the late John Burnside which took place at Bar Gandolfi in Glasgow some years ago. It was just great; Backwoodsman became a Burnside fan-boy on the spot. Burnside introduced one of his poems by speaking about the Sustainable Shetland campaign. It had originated to fight the proposed Viking Wind Farm, an enormous development which would take place smack dab across the pathway used by Whimbrel as they made their way south from breeding grounds far in the north, through the UK and on to African wintering sites. This development seemed like a bad thing and Backwoodsman sent money to Sustainable Shetland for some years.

Well unsurprisingly, Sustainable Shetland lost. The Viking wind farm opened recently: “Power is flowing from the Shetland Isles to mainland Britain for the first time as the UK’s most productive onshore windfarm comes on stream. SSE says its 103-turbine project, known as Viking, can generate 443 megawatts (MW) of electricity, enough to power nearly 500,000 homes.” That’s all good then?

Five seabird species (including a Tern) joined the UK endangered or Red list in the last twenty-four hours; Avian ‘Flu has laid its dead hand here, but it seems most likely that human interventions will have been significant.

Anyway, we visited Barassie Rocks a couple of weeks ago, very close to the anniversary of the Stevenston visit when the Terns came to see us. There were of the order of a hundred birds sitting out on the rocks. The light was decent and there weren’t many dogs, probably because it was really cold, with a savage wind blowing from the south. It was all streaming eyes and shaky camera but whatever – the Terns were delightful to watch and within a reasonable range. Most were sitting, but suddenly, there was a bird on the wing, a glittering white blade slicing across the grey sky.

There was hoarse chatter between birds in repose and those flying above them: family groups perhaps, or partners bickering? The fishing behaviour is mesmerising; the birds glide close to the surface, looking. Then there is the climb, the fold of the wings and the dagger plunge into the sea, then up again and away with a small silver plunder.

Can there be any shape more elegant on the wing than a Tern? Backwoodsman has tried really hard to get the moment of the dive, massive fail!

The Sandwich Terns will head south soon; the EuroBird Portal Viewer which features on the BTO website, suggests that they will be gone early in October, and back mid-March. Good luck Sandwich Terns on your long flight south; come back to us bearing the spring on your silver wings.

PS. It is hoped that the proposal for a new resort at Balloch will have been resolved once and for all by the time the Sandwich Terns grace our shores again.

At WWT Martin Mere

Backwoodsman had the great good fortune to be taken to WWT Martin Mere on his recent birthday – thank you, Mother! Like the Slimbridge reserve, WWT Martin Mere has a good collection of non-native waterfowl which provide a lot of interest if the areas in front of the hides are a bit quiet. The WWT states that “Most of our wetland sites have collections of non-native wildlife telling the story of wetlands around the world. Some are part of international breeding programmes. Others test prototype tracking equipment for research. Our aviculturists develop unrivalled skills in rearing rare species – which they use to save species from extinction in the wild.”

Project Godwit and the headstarting initiative for Spoon-billed Sandpipers demonstrate the Trust’s activity in breeding programmes. The story-telling activity is also important; many of their non-native species will have relatives which are native to the UK and it is interesting to see familial characteristics across waterfowl from different continents.

For example, readers of previous posts may remember Backwoodsman’s enthusiasm for the family Anas represented in the UK by Teal and Wigeon inter alia. The WWT have a range of related ducks including the Yellow-billed Teal (A. flavirostris) from South America, described as a dainty species. The speculum has photographed well here and there is some lovely texture visible on the white parts of the bird. The vermiculation of the head is striking but Backwoodsman is particularly keen on those fringed feathers which bear a dark thumbprint. The identification was confirmed at this useful site.

Wikipedia has two sub-species; the northern sub-species, the Sharp-winged teal Anas flavirostris oxyptera inhabits the highlands of central Peru to northern Chile and Argentina. Backwoodsman believes this was the assignment made on a small plaque by their pond at Martin Mere. It must be a tricky business matching these non-native species with suitable habitats; getting the right depth of pond with appropriate material and vegetation on its bottom is probably essential if these birds are to last for any length of time.

Martin Mere is probably best known for the geese and swans which visit for the winter months and are well fed in reward. The Trumpeter Swan is present in the permanent collection; it is native to North America and is one of the largest water birds. It is a close relative of the familiar Whooper Swan, which abounds at the Mere in the winter.

In sharp contrast (!) , the reserve also has Black Swans from Australia, or possibly east Norfolk. The BTO tell us that: “This popular ornamental species, introduced from Australia, is occasionally encountered in the wild, mostly as single individuals but sometimes in small groups. The species favours rivers and freshwater lakes…The Rare Breeding Birds Panel regularly receives double-figure records of breeding attempts from across the UK, and there is an established breeding population in east Norfolk, centred on the Broads.”

Backwoodsman took a lot of photographs at Martin Mere and may populate a gallery with tentative identifications in the near future, but before moving on, here are three rather marvellous goose species. Firstly, the Red-breasted Goose which is “A rare, but more or less annual, visitor to Britain in winter” according to the BTO. They add that “numbers of this Arctic breeding goose on its usual wintering grounds in SE Europe, though variable, are thought to be declining”. It would be really exciting to find one of these amongst the Canadas or Greylags.

It seems rather less likely that Backwoodsman will find a Swan Goose at Hogganfield Loch as these huge striking birds are natives of Mongolia, Northern China and the far east of Russia.

As for the Hawaiian Goose, there’s no need to elaborate, they’re so not coming to the West of Scotland any time soon. Backwoodsman enjoyed having a really good look at all three species. There were other geese present and some may turn up in future posts about our native species.

On previous visits to Martin Mere, Backwoodsman has been able to get really close to some interesting species in the Weird or Wonderful (WOW) Aviary. Martin Mere had excelled themselves this time with the Inca Terns. A group of twelve terns arrived at the reserve in early summer 2021; we saw half-a-dozen when we visited recently (four make a better framing) but it is entirely possible that they all remain on the reserve and are in good health.

There was a talk about them, and an attempt was made to feed them by hand but they weren’t compliant. The appearance of the feed bucket brought them to the roof of the aviary hide, where they rattled their feet and vocalised, but they would not seize the sardines offered by the keeper. Backwoodsman guesses that a ageing sardine from a zinc bucket is likely to become a little over familiar when you are used to plucking glittering anchovies fresh from the foaming ocean. Some birds went to perch nicely at the side of the aviary though.

Inca Terns fly up and down the Humbolt Current which sweeps the western seaboard of South America, subject to the whims of the El Niño Oscillation. The WWT comment that “[the] population in the wild is estimated to be around 150,000 but this represents a population decline over the last fifty years, with the principal factors for the drop in numbers being overfishing and ocean pollution”.

Unlike most terns, which favour ground nesting, Inca Terns use crevices or old penguin nest holes to lay their eggs in. Velando and Màrquez studied an Inca Tern breeding colony, mapping the relationship between nest location (specifically proximity to the cliff edge) and chick size and other breeding outcomes. Adult birds with nests close to the cliff edge could feed their chicks more successfully despite the attentions of Peregrine Falcons, their main predator species.

The same authors had also looked for correlations between the length of the extravagant white feather moustache and breeding performance measured by factors such as number of chicks fledged, chick mass and immunocompetence. Unfortunately, this publication in the Journal of Avian Biology sits behind a paywall but some of you may be able to access it through the link. And yes, there did seem to be some sort of relationship along the lines of longer is better.

Any bird species laying only one or two eggs seems in  a perilous position; yes, the adults can focus their rearing activities on a small number of chicks but the odds look stacked against a good outcome. Will Martin Mere be attempting to breed them? This may have been covered in the talk but Backwoodsman had zoned out completely and was concentrating on his images – he wasn’t listening at all. Perching terns are one thing, but terns in flight are something else entirely: unfortunately, only images of static birds could be captured on this visit but it was most exciting to see these very striking birds in relatively close proximity.

Backwoodsman is hoping to go back to Martin Mere when everything gets a good deal colder and the migrants come. For anyone in the area in the near future, LWT Mere Sands Wood Nature Reserve and RSPB Hesketh Out Marsh look very worthwhile too.

Vigiljoch 2: on the ground

Mornings on the mountain began with extraordinary views and the intermingled sounds of birdsong and cowbells.

Backwoodsman made this recording sitting on the chairlift and passing over a very small herd of animals which were grazing. Some were being molested by passing hikers who were cuddling the animals for selfies.

Backwoodsman felt this unwise; as he is a Tick magnet, he tends to give livestock a fairly wide berth, though he finds them less problematic than some noted environmental commentators. George Monbiot would compare and contrast the almost overwhelming mountain flora of the Sud Tirol with the barren uplands of the UK. He would lay the blame squarely on the ovine (and probably the bovine too) – if only the sheep and deer could be exterminated, trees would burst forth on the uplands of the UK, and flowers would bloom. Backwoodsman feels that the weather may have a say in the matter; while it undoubtedly snows in the Sud Tirol, it also seems to be possible to grow vines productively up to 800m above sea level in the region, and from them, make still wine from proper grapes (rather than Bacchus) which is actually pleasant to drink.

Mr Monbiot has many interesting things to say and Backwoodsman always reads his pieces in the Guardian but he can be prone to error, as when he pronounces the Wasdale Screes an “environmental disaster” (“What you will see is the great damage farming has inflicted: wet deserts grazed down to turf and rock; erosion gullies from which piles of stones spill …” rather than the entirely natural result of hundreds of thousands of years of weathering, cracking and gravity on some very steep bits of rock which plummet into the deepest lake in the region).

Over many days of walking, we found one deer, no goats and definitely no sheep (and no Ticks). Whatever the reason, the mountain grassland was a wonderful environment for plant spotting. There were two sorts of Gentian; G. alpina and G. aucalis (according to the PictureThis App).

The latter even had a white form. Near the hotel, the Gentians appeared as isolated clumps but 500m higher up, they proliferated in the grassland. On our previous visit, we had seen carpets of Crocus, a joyous sight.

The genus Pulsatilla was well represented with both Pasque (P. vernalis) and Alpine Pasque (P. alpina) Flowers abundant and well distributed.

Less familiar was the indigenous Rhododendron species, R. ferrugineum, the Alpen Rose. These were just coming into flower. There were huge banks of them in some of the higher places we reached and a spectacle was imminent: a long distance trail bears their name.

The cross in this image from May 2019 marks a point on that route; trail number 9 climbs up the slope to where it levels at around 2200 m, then turns hard left following the high ridge towards the south west. The plants showing through the snow are R. ferrugineum.

We also found carpets of the Alpine Primrose (Primula hirsuta) at this elevation; unfortunately, the mist is masking the mass display of these fine plants.

The Alpine Snowbell (Soldanella alpina) was a new plant for Backwoodsman, as was the Nottingham Catchfly (Silene nutans), though this may be widespread in the UK, and have been simply overlooked.

PictureThis has not helped with the very few Fungi we found. This one only appeared to grow from deposits of cow dung; is it possible that spores only germinated when they fell in the right medium?

The second example has something of the appearance of blowtorched Italian meringue.

If any expert mycologists are reading this, please let me know what this is. The final fungal item does highlight the contrast between UK and wider European food cultures. Try going in a Spar in, say, Maryhill, and asking for Funghi misti con Porcini… As they say where I come from “Go on, I’ll hold yer coat.”

Of non-grazing mammals, there were few. On the way to the airport, our taxi driver had teased us about Bears and Backwoodsman had wondered if Wild Boar might be about. No and no, fortunately; happy to see both from a distance, not so keen on an intimate encounter with either. Squirrels bounded across our path on a number of occasions; most were the familiar red colour but a couple were dark, including this one, which sprang into a tree as we approached. Backwoodsman was interested to see that non-Grey Squirrels span quite a colour range.

The Vigiljoch commands a southerly view across to the UNESCO site that is known as The Dolomites; Backwoodsman attempted to make a panoramic image of the range from the library at Vigilius using Lightroom software. A couple of unsightly trees have been removed using the Paint programme.

Our final view takes in Our Lady of the Snows at Ashcbach, a view to the north off the side of the mountain. Backwoodsman is a complete convert to the Sud Tirol and will be back there like a shot should the opportunity arise.

Back to birds next time.

Vigiljoch 1: through the air

Backwoodsman had the good fortune to return to the Vigiljoch which stands above Lana in the Sud Tirol.  The mountain is really the first high point on a long ridge which extends many kilometers to the south-west. We stayed in a beautiful hotel (Vigilius Mountain Resort) which is reached fron the valley by cable car (Seilbahn); a chairlift (Sessellift) climbs from the hotel at 1486m to a spot height of 1814m.

The ridge is broad and undulating at that point with many well-marked tracks; those which head south-west climb steadily, reaching a spot height of 2608m at Naturnser Hochwart. We’ll return to this topic in a subsequent post.

Our first visit took place early in May in 2019 when much of the land was trying to cast off winter: it was dry and tawny in colour. By mid-June, the timing of the 2024 visit, a transformation had taken place; there were flower-strewn meadows, much noise from crickets and grasshoppers, and butterflies on the wing. Backwoodsman is always pleased to be able to capture images of butterflies; looming is prevented by the use of the long zoom (though depth-of-field suffers). If you don’t loom, the butterfly may sit for you and show you both upper and lower wing surfaces. Patrick Barkham describes this approach of remote viewing in The Butterfly Isles.

The Small Heath is not rare or unusual but it has settled on a Clover which makes for an attractive range of shades and tones in the image. Typically for this species, its wings are folded when feeding or at rest.

Strong light brought out the opulent colour of this Pearl-bordered Fritillary; the left hand wing and the body are in the same focal plane so the image is sharp, but the right hand wing is orthogonal to that plane. Backwoodsman is far from being a butterfly expert but believes the identification is correct; it is based on the pattern of black markings on the upper surface, and of white and yellow on the lower.

Backwoodsman has never set eyes on a Chequered Skipper before; this one posed very nicely, using a wild Clematis as a prop to show off the underwing. The depth-of-field in this image of the upper surface is quite good.

The meadow in front of the hotel yielded a couple of Blues, but Backwoodsman had to be very careful while prowling about here because of proximity to the buildings. The prospect of being mistaken for a papparazo was not pleasing, and might have led to a scene. Head down and be careful where you point that thing! This Small Blue is just showing the brown upper wing surface allowing the identification, but what is this second chap?

Backwoodsman’s money is on a Common Blue – this next one is definitely a Common Blue but please note the very strong pattern of spots on the lower wing surface. Could the strong light through the wing fade out that strong pattern of spots in the mystery species?

Finally, a female Silver-Studded Blue – little doubt about this one. The dusting of the body and wing bases is really quite something.

Backwoodsman was taunted by Clouded Yellows (shades of Omis again) – they would not settle. There were a few moments of exhilaration when an ochre creature flitted into view and settled but they were Speckled Yellow moths each time. One day, we’ll get a Clouded Yellow in the lens and focused.

Backwoodsman thought he had done quite well with this range of species but then, alas, he read a Naturetrek Tour Report from July 2018 and was well and truly put in his place. So many species! However, it is the case that groups of naturalists banged up together for a few days can get quite competitive, possibly imaginative even. On a visit to Shetland, we encountered a wildlife tour party lead by Iolo Williams from the BBC’s Seasonwatch operation, dining at the Sumburgh Hotel. “So, how many species have we seen today, then, look you, a hundred and seventeen wasn’t it?” intoned Iolo in ultra- lugubrious mode. “Don’t forget the Hobby”, said one of his clients. “Oh yes” he said “a hundred and eighteen then.” We were surprised, thinking a Merlin more likely given the northerly extremity. Anyway, everyone was definitely up for one more tick on the list, no matter how improbable.

So “where are the birds?” you bellow, “get to it you busker!”

A hit list travelled to the Sud Tirol with Backwoodsman, because we had done astonishingly well last time. We had a one-off sighting of Spotted Nutcrackers in 2019. Snow came during our vist and there was some poor light; through the gloom, we saw a group of corvid-sized birds feeding on the ground in a woodland clearing. Perhaps the snow had brought some cones to the ground for them.

They were much in evidence this time, always right at the tops of trees, and noisy with it, but quite camera-shy. This one was photographed from the Sessellift in excellent light. The Wikipedia entry refers to their cacheing of pine nuts and their excellent memories of cache locations.

Various Woodpeckers flitted about; we caught a glimpse of the Black Woodpecker, an unmistakeable bird. Just a glimpse though, no time to photograph them. Great-spotted woodpeckers were about too, but not to be photographed. Backwoodsman made a recording of the Great-spotted which will turn up elsewhere; he also made this recording.

There is an interesting comparison of the two species drumming on the same tree on YouTube, along with separate recordings of the Black and Great-spotted on the excellent xeno-canto site. So what do you think? Backwoodsman thinks that the drumming in the recording seems more like that of the Black Woodpecker. I fear we’ll never know for sure.

There is less ambiguity about the next Woodpecker species. On the way to the hotel meadow, Backwoodsman saw what he took for a distant Thrush lift off from the track and land on a branch in full sun, briefly. As usual, he shot first and worried about it later. He was quite surprised by what he saw in the back of the camera later on – a Wryneck, and what a lovely thing.

The similarity between markings on the bird’s back and those on the branch is really surprising; Backwoodsman has often wondered how birds seem to know where to stand, the case of Golden Plovers providing one of the most remarkable examples. The Wryneck is sitting in a Silver Birch; no shortage of those in this mountain environment but what an amazing complementarity. The feet are impressive and Backwoodsman is very taken with the boots.

Another list bird was the Ring Ouzel; we were beating them off with sticks in 2019, but they were more elusive this time, failing to show up when the camera was around. Perhaps Backwoodsman will catch up with them again in Scotland.

The Black Redstarts were more biddable but kept their distance. We spotted an adult male in the distance up on the top of the hill and photographed him.  

Then we returned from a trip to Merano to find an adult feeding a chick just outside the fire escape by our room. They were not to be photographed and Backwoodsman became pessimistic. He went outside to prowl and found a chick and an adult male; they liked a line of fence posts which descended a slope behind the hotel.

Things looked up on a subsequent walk in full sun. Redstarts are Chats, and like Robins, they do well around human habitation, and like Stonechats, they perch nicely. Here (second image) is a Stonechat from Barassie for postural comparison.

We detected some Redstart activity around a tarpaulin-covered woodpile near the fence of a house. The bars of the fence were sufficiently well-spaced for the camera to work at full zoom; things developed nicely on the other side of the fence as a chick appeared and was fed with morsels from the woodpile.

Crested tits were about and they were a tease. Backwoodsman managed a solitary image in poor light. There is a chance of catching up with these in Scotland, but it will take some work.

Finally, we spotted some parachute flight and very monotonous song, managing to trace it to this Water Pipit with the help of the Merlin App.

It was our first time to see this species; Rock and Meadow Pipits are more familiar from our Ayrshire and upland walks.

So that’s a short list but Backwoodsman hopes you find the images pleasing. There will be another post of flowers and landscapes once the processing is complete, probably in a couple of weeks. Until then, here’s Faye doing a bit of swinging (!) through the air at Eggerhof (we’ll be back there next time).

Black Guillemots

Some years ago, we visited Ardrossan Harbour just to see what was about, rather than to catch the Arran boat. A small waterbird caught our eyes – “Diver!” we chorused, but no, it was a Black Guillemot. We hadn’t seen them before and were struck by the red feet and gape when the bill opened. Our next sightings were in Shetland, where we found a pair in repose near Sumburgh Head in the summer sun, then one March at Saltcoats, where a small group in breeding finery had sailed into the old harbour. We returned to Ardrossan Harbour two weeks ago and found Black Guillemots again, really pleasingly, because the visit had been planned around them. They were on the water and sitting on the dockside.

The JNCC (Joint Nature Conservation Committee) Seabird Survey reports that “The black guillemot or ‘tystie’ is a circumpolar species, concentrated around the North Atlantic, Barents Sea, Baltic and smaller numbers around the Chukchi Sea in northern Alaska and north-eastern Siberia. Approximately half of the UK’s population breeds around the Northern Isles, with the remainder confined mainly to the coasts and islands of north and west Scotland. Their distribution within the core range is determined by the availability of suitable nest cavities that are safe from land predators such as rats, American mink, stoats and otters. Between censuses in 1969-70 and 1985-91, there was an expansion in the range of black guillemots, in particular the colonisation of new sites around the Irish Sea, including man-made structures (e.g. harbour walls, jetties, piers), and into north-east Scotland.” The UK population is of the order of forty thousand, whereas Guillemots number over a million. Black Guillemots live for around eleven years, breeding after the fourth year and forming small colonies to do so, whereas Guillemots mass on cliffs.

They were surprisingly tolerant of our approach, even when an excited Backwoodsman contrived to fall over this handsomely distressed and rather obvious bollard. A previous fall onto camera at Cardross had resulted in a cracked rib; Backwoodsman was more lightly wounded this time and the abrasions healed up within the week. More importantly, the camera was fine.

You may notice that there were three birds in the earlier shot, and three is definitely a crowd for seabirds in the breeding season. Before too long, the period of repose ended and the group took to the air and then the water.

Violence ensued, as it tends to within avian threesomes; a pair of birds really went for each other, both on and below the surface. It was quite a sight. The shape of the bird in the second image is really interesting – are the wings and tail spread for stability and leverage, all the better to peck at the rival bird?

The vanquished bird was seen off and the victor displayed, had a freshen up, and then headed off for a bit of courting.

There was a display on the water, with the pair circling each other, then a second and vocal routine on the dockside.

The birds get noisy towards the end of the video. Please accept Backwoodsman’s apologies for the shakily framed video footage – it demonstrates the efficacy of sighting through the viewfinder rather than looking at the back of the camera.

When sighting through the viewfinder, you can brace the heavy camera against your head and crunch everything (arms, neck, lower body) tight to keep the gear steady, whereas the extension of the arms required to look at the back of the camera makes the shakes inevitable. It’s no big deal with a wee mobile but do try it with three-and-a-half kilos of camera, and then wonder why they want you to look at the back screen. It beats me.

The JNCC document quoted from near the top of the post states that “The species is one of the more problematic seabirds to survey. It tends to breed away from the large seabird cliff colonies and prefers small rocky islands and low-lying, indented stretches of rocky coast. Nests are hidden in rock crevices and under boulders, which makes them extremely difficult to census during the breeding season.” Black Guillemots also seem to like drainage holes in harbour walls; on arrival at Saltcoats Old Harbour, we saw a bird’s head protruding and in due course, a second bird came to join it in the hole.

After a short interval, one of the birds left and flew right across to harbour to a second opening.

There were quite a few suitable holes in the harbour wall and others were occupied by birds. Some birds nesting in similar sites in Oban assumed celebrity status a couple of years ago.

While writing the post, Backwoodsman remembered some images from our trip to Belfast in March 2023 and re-examined them alongside the illustrations in the RSPB book. There are the brilliant and unbroken white wing patches, and the red feet of an adult in winter plumage: juveniles have two dark lines across the wing patch and more orange-coloured feet.

Those of you embedded in academic life will recognise the phrase “light touch review”. It means “someone sent me this paper to review and I haven’t actually read it properly (or possibly, at all). But it’s by my mate so it must be good… Accept without changes.” Well the research for this post is definitely light touch and Backwoodsman is relying on visual appeal to slip this one by you. Backwoodsman hopes you enjoy the images of these handsome birds, and don’t mind the thin text too much.

Ospreys

On our way to make a visit to Geilston Garden recently, we came across a chap looking out across a field in the direction of Murray’s. Spotting the binoculars Faye was wearing, he engaged us in conversation. He was keen to tell us about an Osprey nest on farmland not too far away. To be honest, Backwoodsman was quietly sceptical, though he had seen an Osprey over the Clyde at Cardross before (August 2020), and photographed it. Alas, Backwoodsman cannot read the markings on the ring. UK Osprey Information tells of the return of ringed individuals, with the colours and markings of the rings. Most of the action is around Loch Garten and the Tweed Valley, as expected.

There are always good tales to be heard at Cardross; some years ago, one chap was keen to tell of a White-tailed Sea Eagle which flew in regularly from Mull (had he followed it, perhaps?). This sounded like madness and Backwoodsman put his head down, got back onto the Redshanks he was watching and hoped his interlocutor would go quietly and soon. In contrast, Osprey man had detail, which was interesting, and we decided that we would allow a decent interval to pass and then return to Cardross and try to find this farm and the Ospreys.

On alighting from the train, we saw an Osprey overhead, which seemed very promising and we set off towards the farm. Backwoodsman is not disclosing the location in this post in case the twitcher social media has found a way of trawling the internet and harvesting bird sighting data (but if anyone wants it, and promises not to post it, it can be supplied privately). Backwoodsman has gone right off this business since the Waxwings episode, and would not want the farm lane clogged up with serried ranks of grumpy camo-clad pensioners with birdscopes, and their vehicles.

On arriving at the farm, we saw a chap dismounting a tractor and Backwoodsman approached. Far from the expected “ged orf my larnd!”, he told us that he thought there were Ospreys about, but no, we couldn’t go on the field because the cows were about to, which seemed fair enough. We took a punt on some trees which looked sufficiently knocked about to offer a nesting site to a pair of Ospreys and settled down to wait. Before too long, out came the Ospreys.

So no prizes for saying “hey, these images aren’t up to your usual standard, you busker!”. Agreed, but this is very long range shooting. Backwoodsman would be pretty confident of putting one through Bibi at this range but getting a sharp focus on a dynamic raptor, rather than a wizened and corrupt war criminal, is a tough gig, especially in very bright sunlight. Backwoodsman suspects that the birds probably covered fewer pixels than the spot area used to meter and inform the autofocus, which can mean that the camera spends most of its time hunting for a focal position. Backwoodsman feels he was pretty fortunate to get anything at all, and is only posting because the Ospreys threw some beautiful shapes, exhibited some interesting behaviour and are really not that common. One day, we’ll have to go sit in a hide somewhere and get the money shot of large Osprey with fish.

We were expecting to see an established pair on a nest, with regular traffic to feed ravenous chicks; this really isn’t what we saw. There was definitely a tree of interest – an old pine – but there was no evidence of a nest. A bird flew around the top of the pine regularly, sometimes perching, sometimes swooping by. And then, there were two birds.

The new arrival seemed to be carrying something; it looked more like a Greggs pasty than a fish but it was hard to tell at that range. It definitely interested a passing Buzzard and some Corvids. The laden bird seemed to be trying to attract the attention of the first Osprey but it wasn’t exactly welcomed with open wings. This went on for a while and then a third bird showed up.

This was so not a passing Buzzard; while the quality is poor, the white head of each bird is quite clear. Our friends Sabine and Peter had taken us to the RSPB Gartocharn reserve on Loch Lomond and we had seen some Osprey action across the Loch, so this area between the Clyde and the Loch clearly attracts Ospreys. Apart from Loch Lomond itself, and the Clyde, there is even a Trout Fishery quite close to hand (their website even mentions Ospreys).

BTO population data is seven years out of date – they report 240 pairs breeding in the UK between 2013 and 2017. A recently edited Wikipedia entry tells us that “The population in Scotland was estimated at 250 breeding pairs in 2023” so it’s pretty special to see three birds together so close to home. We’ve been very lucky with Ospreys, what with this sighting, and the previous one at Cardross. We had seen a pair on Loch Etive near Taynuilt a few years ago (no camera) and an individual over the beach at West Kilbride (August 2023), terrifying a flock of Starlings. And all of this without venturing to Loch Garten.

Since our Cardross visit, Backwoodsman has striven to get the de-noising software to sharpen up these images, hoping for some extra pixels within the vague outlines. On Saturday, we learned that a Tory Big Beast (the only man able to defeat The Blob according to Simon Heffer writing in today’s Sunday Telegraph) had decided not to stand in the forthcoming general election. To mark the occasion, EJ Thribb (171/2)  might write:

So farewell then, Michael Gove,

They say you were the brains behind Brexit.

You were never short of big ideas,

But you left the detail to someone else.

As a proud former member of The Blob, it is with some regret that Backwoodsman feels that in the vagueness of these images, he now has something in common with the member for Surrey Heath, and hopes to post some sharper and more detailed stuff next time.

Fuut (or Great-crested Grebes) in Rotterdam)

If you’re only in it for the birds, do scroll to the end because that’s where they are. Backwoodsman headed to the Netherlands to stay on the SS Rotterdam and shoot some pictures, in camera-for-hire mode in support of Faye’s Ocean Modern project, and to admire the city and have some nice dinners.

It has been some years since this great ocean-liner greeted the waves bound for the sea, its home, to paraphrase Louis Dudek, but it is still an imposing sight, and to Backwoodsman, a nostalgic one. In the nineteen-sixties, Backwoodsman was often taken by his Granny Dagnall to see the Pier Head in Liverpool. Childhood memories sometimes privilege impact at the expense of accuracy, but in recollection, it seems that it was possible to turn right by the landing stage for the Mersey ferries, and walk along the quayside beside the towering steel plate of big ships secured by the bewildering catenaries of mooring lines, ropes that seemed thicker than tree trunks to a small boy. Seeing the SS Rotterdam from the quay on the Maashaven brought back many happy memories.

Built environment is not generally Backwoodsman’s best thing but Rotterdam seemed to have some very interesting buildings. He was particularly struck by the interconnected towers that are De Rotterdam (seen here behind the Swan bridge), and Depot Boijmans Van Beuningen, shown here with the reflected high rise of the city.

There were many examples of built environment of a much softer kind; Wisteria clearly enjoys the harbourside climate, they were everywhere and in full and glorious bloom.

The weather was hostile but it opened up for a trip to the Maritime Museum which sits at the junction of Leuvehaven and Wijnhaven.

The most impressive of the many vessels moored outside the museum was the grain elevator Stadsgraanzuiger No 19, a class of vessel used to decant grain from the holds of very large vessels onto much smaller barges of shallower draft. The introduction of the grain elevators laid waste to the jobs of thousands of dockers in northern European ports.

Backwoodsman had spotted a Great-crested Grebe on the water, and was very pleased to see it. A few shots were fired, more for form’s sake than in the hope of a decent image. He wasn’t prepared for what happened next as a relaxed-looking Grebe or Fuut, as it is in Dutch, came really close.

Really, what are the chances? These nervous birds usually sail away from this photographer until they are just out of range of a decent shot. Backwoodsman carried out a quick lens change (to the longest one available, a mere 100 mm telephoto) and knelt in the very limited cover available. The Fuut went about its business, and was then joined by its partner!

The rain started and the Grebes began to display. Backwoodsman has posted on this species before but these images are much better than what he had available at the time, so please enjoy them, if you will.

What a treat! It was also pleasing to capture some video footage, complete with passing euro-siren. Backwoodsman regrets shooting this in profile.

The rain grew heavier and it was time to leave the Grebes to their amour. A white knuckle ride on a water taxi into the teeth of the gale took us home to the SS Rotterdam.

And the dinners? The standout was HMB restaurant (for Hummingbird, birds again); McAfee really doesn’t like their website so I’m not putting in a link. Deft, delicate and delicious plates, but should you go, don’t be put off by front of house. Backwoodsman hasn’t been looked-up-and-down by a fat bloke in double denim since the nineteen eighties.

The final image is a draft poster of the displaying Grebes. It was made in Powerpoint so the quality of the jpg file is low; Backwoodsman is working on something he could print up for the wall.