Weekly Nature Watch

Keith Graham's weekly update on the nature of the Park.

Weekly Nature Watch 19th June 2020

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I miss the lovely calling of lapwings at night.  When the fields surrounding my cottage were used for grazing stock, the summer nights used to fairly buzz with their calling.  The increase in sheep farming in this airt with grass literally eaten to the bone has certainly reduced their numbers here and, whilst some pairs persist, the population has undoubtedly declined. 

This spring, other people have commented that there appears to be a shortage of both lapwings and curlews in areas where both were once prevalent.  I have little doubt that the face of farming over the past few years has contributed much to their decline.

But as soon as you begin to explore grazing ground, especially on the lower hills, as I did in recent weeks, the picture changes quite markedly.  The grassland that I went to explore had its share of lapwing chicks.  Everywhere I looked I could see their little scuttling figures as they sought out food – sometimes prodding into the soft soil especially when exploring little wet hollows and sometimes picking the insects quite literally from the blades of grass.

Young lapwings, - or if you prefer peesies, peewits, peesweeps, teuchits, chewits and a whole host of other pseudonyms – are comic little creatures, beautifully camouflaged in their first few weeks by that mottled back and head yet easily identified by their leggy appearance and the characteristic black collar.

Had I broken cover, no doubt I would have been immediately bombarded by the adult birds because peewits are very active in the defence of their young. Like all such ground nesters, they also have an ability to “freeze” their youngsters with a sharp alarm call so that the young immediately crouch absolutely still to avoid detection whilst the adults themselves set up a series of distracting displays.  Not only do they mob any alien intruder, be it human or otherwise, but they are also dab hands at deploying the broken wing trick – trailing a wing as if injured to draw the attention of any potential predator away from the youngsters.  These, needless to say, remain absolutely motionless thus merging with the landscape until instructed to do otherwise.  By my estimation, most of the youngsters I watched were between a week and two weeks old.

Recently, I also had the pleasure of watching some young curlews which, with a sprinkling of adults, dotted a low ground field.  Young ‘whaups’ are gangling creatures, all leg and beak, although in this case they were not yet fully developed so did not display the spectacular long curved bill.

Oystercatchers are also ground nesters but they are known to practice “egg dumping”.  Like the cuckoo they sometimes lay their eggs in the nests of other species such as seagulls, abandoning them to be raised by those birds. Like lapwing and curlew chicks, their young are upwardly mobile from the moment they emerge from the egg but sadly they are also in decline.  However, I have a very clear memory of a pair regularly nesting atop a drystone dyke beside a busy road.  On one occasion, the chicks left the nest descending to the roadside which sent the parents into a state of frenzy.  Happily, they scuttled along until they were able to find a gate to safety.

What all these particular observations illustrate well in all three cases is the independence of these youngsters at such an early age.  In fact, within a matter of hours of hatching, ground nesters such as these are mobile enough to be able to run at a fair speed considering their minuscule proportions.  I have actually seen a young peewit running along with part of its egg shell still attached to it.  Furthermore, they are self-sufficient enough to feed themselves from the outset.

Preliminary attempts at flight by oystercatcher chicks are seen about the fifth day as wing-flapping and leaping.  Thereafter, the wings are frequently exercised every day until actual flight becomes possible about the end of the fourth week.  On the other hand, it will be about five weeks before the young peewits are able to take to the air and in the case of the curlews, they do not fly until they are approaching about seven weeks.

The contrast between these typical ground nesters and other birds, which are reared in quite different circumstances, can best be demonstrated by a further observation – this time of young blackbirds which are most certainly not independent, or anything like it when first hatched.  I suppose the real differences lie in the type of nesting habitat and, of course, in the lifestyle of the bird in question.  It should also be said that blackbirds incubate their eggs for a mere two weeks whilst lapwings, for example, sit on their eggs for about four.

Of course, ground nesting birds are more vulnerable than the likes of blackbirds which build their nests in much more protected and less exposed locations.  The ones I have been watching have nested in my orchard while, as many readers will undoubtedly know, they often choose such locations as garden sheds.  More naturally, perhaps, they may also choose fairly thick shrubbery or hedges in which to construct their nests. In theory, they are therefore less at risk from predators although squirrels, weasels, jays and magpies are quite capable of totally destroying a nest full of young blackbirds.

Just a week or so ago, I watched a newly fledged blackie, which was still trying to find its wings, snatched by a male sparrowhawk doubtless as food for its own youngsters.  It should also be remembered that blackbirds often produce several broods in a season.  Two is commonplace or even three but on occasions it may run to four or even five for a particularly hard working pair.

Lapwings and curlews generally content themselves with one clutch per season although in the old days when lapwing eggs were considered a delicacy – now a thing of the past, thank goodness – it was common practice for people to take the first clutch in the knowledge that the birds would inevitably lay another.

One way or another, the avian production line is currently in full swing.  The hordes of sparrows that we have here have been extra energetic producing countless youngsters. I have been watching parent birds feeding their fawning young, with their wings trembling and their mouths agape to reveal the colourful interior which is a stimulus to the parents to stuff food into their mouths.  The other day, one took briefly to the air to snatch a flying insect which would, I suppose, have added protein to the youngster’s diet.

We have also been inundated by a bevy of newly fledged starlings – hardly yet a murmuration, more as my wife described them, a squabble!  Young starlings are appallingly bad mannered, bullying is endemic and belies the amazing discipline they subsequently show when they fly in perfect order in their murmurations.

A pair of crows has also been tending to a single youngster which, like the young sparrows, fawns frantically to encourage its parents to feed it.  The first redcap, from one of two pairs, has also appeared at the bird table.  Indeed, the woodpeckers are also incessant visitors devouring the fat-balls at an incredible rate.  I presume both pairs must be feeding other newly fledged youngsters.

So once again, nature goes forth and multiplies.

 

Weekly Nature Watch 12th June 2020

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If roebuck could be entered for the Grand National then I’m sure we saw a candidate for the race this week which was last seen sprinting across the open ground between two large woodlands and clearing fences in the manner of Red Rum!

His hasty departure from a dense, overgrown woodland was entirely at the behest of a well-established rival buck which saw this fleeing roebuck vacate that territory very abruptly, but no doubt before he left his departure would have been hastened by a few thrusts of the lethal antlers of the dominant buck together with much barking.

We often refer to the ‘gentle roe’ and indeed, roe deer in general give the distinct impression of gentleness and shyness in demeanour except at this time of the year when the bucks work themselves into a frenzy. Indeed, when it comes to the male of the species, the gentle roe has a pretty vile temper when dealing with other bucks. Territorial integrity is essential and the cause of much angst between May and August when territories are sought and claimed. The fleeing roebuck had presumably had notions of establishing an area in the wood for himself, only to find a resident buck already making a statement that this wood was his! Roebuck defending a territory ask for and give no quarter whatsoever.

Roe deer, however, have a chequered history. During the nineteenth century, as our national railway system was being developed and when coal mining was really coming into its own, the demand for timber for sleepers and pit props was such that much of the British landscape was stripped of its trees. Successive wars exacerbated the situation and in general the woodlands of Britain ended up in a sorry state. Accordingly, bird and animal species that rely upon woodland began to diminish although some sought solace by adapting their lifestyles to other habitats.

There is a perception that red deer are creatures of the high hills, glens and moors of Britain although in truth they were originally woodland creatures. Thus, when their woodland habitat was fast disappearing, red deer in Britain somehow managed to eke out a living in those Highlands and on the moors. The red deer that still occupy the great woodlands and forests of mainland Europe are consequently of much grander stature and heavier than their Scottish counterparts, living as they do in the far more suitable environment of those places where food is plentiful and shelter guaranteed.

During that period of the depletion of our forests, roe were unable to make that transition and adapt their lifestyles to more open higher ground. Consequently, their numbers plummeted and only after the First World War, when the Forestry Commission was established and began to plant new forests did roe deer begin to turn the corner. And turn the corner they did because nowadays, roe deer are prospering as never before and are even taking over areas such as cemeteries on the edge of our cities, where tombstones provide shelter instead of trees. The spread of woodland elsewhere has also given them a new lease of life.

Royalty and the nobility staged mammoth deer hunts down the centuries and as a result, other kinds of deer were introduced to Britain. Fallow deer were introduced from the Continent as park animals back in the thirteenth century and here in Scotland, we have herds of fallow deer – around Loch Lomond for instance and also on the Isle of Mull. These herds have been long established and a further importation of Sika deer from China in the nineteenth century has brough another species into Scotland. Sika are certainly widely present in Argyll and have proved to be a problem because they hybridize with red deer and as a consequence, the off-spring being slightly smaller, results in a reduction in the quality of our native red deer.  Elsewhere in Britain, tiny muntjac deer have been introduced as have Chinese Water Deer but as yet, neither of these have spread to Scotland.

Of course, this is the month that red deer hinds give birth to their calves. Their woodland heritage is born out through the spotted nature of the calves’ coats when they are born. This has the effect of camouflage where the sun breaks through the foliage dappling the woodland floor. Furthermore, in recent years red deer have fast colonized lowland woodland so especially during the month of May, where you perhaps might have expected to come across roe off-spring, now it may be red deer calves that people see.

As everyone knows, the red deer rut takes place in the autumn of the year whilst the roe deer rut - less spectacular than that of red deer - happens in August, by which time all territorial disputes have been well and truly settled. It is during the August rut of roe deer that those fairy rings appear. These rings are made by the roebuck going round and round their does during courtship. By comparison with their bad-tempered beaus, roe deer does are indeed shy and gentle.

The red deer calves currently being dropped are still largely being born in upland locations albeit that as previously said, red deer are increasingly returning to the habitat that was once their realm, lowland woodland. Of course, there is currently much discussion going on about the number of red deer at large in the country.  Latest figures suggest that there are presently in excess of 360,000 red deer throughout Scotland which compares with a figure of 150,000 at the beginning of the twentieth century. There are also thought to be between 200,000 and 350,000 roe deer abroad in Scotland and there are repeated calls for heavier culling of both species.

This prompts the re-wildling movement, which of course is eager to re-introduce wolves and lynx to Britain. Thus far their pleas have gone unrewarded but there is a growing number of voices advocating such a move. Some say that such a reintroduction would enhance wildlife tourism especially in Scotland but there are other considerations to take into account. Sheep farming is still an important industry in rural Scotland and it seems to me inconceivable that sheep farming and wolves or lynx could happily reside side by side. And although I remember the late naturalist, David Stephen, telling me that he had never found an authentic record of a wolf having killed a human being, I’m not at all sure that he was a hundred per cent correct.

There is little doubt that there is a problem but those who suggest that there are far too many red deer will have to come up with a better solution than to reintroduce wolves and lynx.  Wolves roaming wild in Scotland would surely merely create much more animated and acrimonious controversy.

Weeky Nature Watch 5th June 2020

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For the time being, the housing market has virtually collapsed. The lockdown has meant that those wishing to buy or sell property have had to put their plans on hold. It is just one of the inconveniences of the present situation.

Holidays have also had to be put on hold and as the message says, ‘stay at home’ is now the norm for most people … or it should be! However, home for the birds can be anywhere from a tractor to a tree where no such diktats apply. The current situation has absolutely no effect upon them and they may come and go as they please.  In doing so, they at least provide us mere mortals, confined by the lockdown, with a host of entertainment.

A farming neighbour has an old tractor and having two other tractors of more modern vintage, it is seldom used these days. So when he discovered that a pair of starlings had commandeered the old tractor as a new home, he was not too surprised. In time, the starling incubated and then raised a new family and now that they have flown, if needed, the tractor can be used again. Or so our farming friend thought, only to discover that in a piece of machinery attached to the tractor, a pair of wrens has taken up occupancy and are sitting tenaciously on a clutch of eggs!

Birds nesting in machinery is not new. Years ago, there was a report of a pair of blackbirds which nested in a lorry working on a substantial building site. Thus, the lorry lumbered to and fro on the site transporting a nest full of eggs and an incubating parent bird from one end to the other. And once the eggs had hatched, the young chicks were similarly transported with the parent birds having to follow the movements of the lorry in order to feed their chicks. However, all ended well with the chicks successfully fledging!

During these lockdown weeks, I have become increasingly fascinated by the avian chorus as it has grown and developed. This singing is very much related to the presence of nests and the purposes of bird song are manifold. Firstly, it represents a declaration on the part of a male bird that he is available as a mate and the strength and variety of his song is important for it tells the females that this is a fine songster with all the attributes she is looking for in a mate.

Song also pronounces territorial integrity. In other words, the presence of a singing male indicates to any females of the same species that here is a male bird with a territory to proclaim. It is therefore an invitation for the female to come and examine that territory and judge it for its capacity to provide plenty of food for a young growing family. Remember, it is the female that makes all the vital choices. She must choose a mate that displays a fine vocal technique and a territory that will provide for the family that they hope to produce. And of course, there must also be a good, secure nesting site.

Of course, there is rivalry between competing males and I have been watching two families of great spotted woodpeckers during these past few weeks. One family is nesting somewhere in our orchard, the other somewhere else. I’m not exactly sure where but they come and go in a totally different direction from the ones in the orchard. At the moment, although the parent birds do take peanuts, the main attention is being focused upon the fat balls. When woodpeckers attack fat balls they really do so with great gusto and fly off with a gut and beak full of the said fat, presumably duly stuffing the material into the gaping mouths of their youngsters.

Occasionally, the two families arrive at the bird-table at the same time and there follows what can only be described as a scuffle with one or other put to flight. There is no love lost between the two families even though the female of one was almost certainly bred by the other after her predecessor was taken by a female sparrowhawk last year.

The other interesting conflict of the last few weeks was a set-to between crows and magpies. One morning there was a clear falling out between a pair of magpies and a pair of carrion crows, both of which have been hovering somewhat nervously around our bird-table for some weeks now. Such was the ferocity of the encounter that one of the crows seized one of the magpies in a frantic wrestling match which had the two of them rolling and over in what seemed to be a mortal combat.

Subsequently, the magpies, which have nested in a neighbour’s garden, fledged four youngsters which, from what I have seen, have so far been completely ignored by the crows. However, these two members of the corvid clan seem to have it in for one another but both the crows and the magpies are obviously well aware of human antipathy towards them. All of them display a distinctly nervous reaction when they come near the bird-table and a distinct suspicion of one another. If the crows spy a tempting morsel, they literally sidle up to it, grab it and make off with it until they feel they are at a safe distance; it is only necessary to wave at the magpies for them to take flight.

The other rivalry that is evident is not really a rivalry at all. For weeks, a very tuneful blackbird has been the leader of the avian choir here. His voice is mature and exceptionally sweet and his song dominates. Even the wren seems unable to top it for volume. But now he has a vocal rival in a song thrush, singing with just as much vigour and power. They generally sing from opposite ends of the garden but when both are going at full strength, everything else including jenny wren becomes a background noise.

Both have really rich voices with the blackbird perhaps being the most inventive, his song flowing in a continuous string of virtuoso melodies whereas the thrush sings in three or four repetitions of every phrase. When both get going it is a rare treat and I surmise that they both have nests somewhere in our garden or the garden of our neighbour. They may appear to be rivals but of course are not … only in a vocal sense, for the thrush is pronouncing his thrush territory, the blackbird his blackbird territory.

                                    “The blackbird and the speckled thrush

                                    Good morrow gave from brake and bush”

                                                                                                Scott, Lady of the Lake.

So, the mavis and the merle make merry music and soon they will also be welcoming new arrivals as June progresses.

 

Weekly Nature Watch 29th May 2020

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This is a time for the young ones. Badger cubs will be visiting the outside world for the first time. I well remember regularly watching a badger sett and seeing the cubs emerge for the first time. They were very nervous at first but once they had got used to emerging on a nightly basis they soon threw off that caution and used to indulge in the most boisterous and noisy of games … ‘king of the castle’ seemed the most popular and very soon there was a clear pecking order between the three cubs, one of which seemed to win every time.

Fox cubs are also beginning to make their way in the world, accompanying their mother, the vixen, on her nightly patrols. Fox cubs are precocious in the extreme and always getting into scrapes of one kind or another. Recently In the press have been tales of fox cubs getting themselves into difficulty. On one occasion, a building worker found a cub on site and thinking it was an abandoned puppy, took it home. Only later did he realise his mistake and that his puppy was a fox cub and he quickly took the creature to an RSPCA rescue centre. The other incident involved a fox cub getting its head stuck in a pipe. The fire brigade had to be called to extricate the poor little mite which luckily survived the incident unscathed.

Such waifs and strays used to come my way regularly. I was reminded of the first such casualty when a reader rang up the other day to tell me that she had ‘found’ a tawny owl chick. I don’t know how many tawny owl chicks I have reared but it is plenty. The first was dubbed ‘Mohammed Owly’ - the boxer of similar name was in his prime at the time. Mo had been found, although in fact he was not really lost. He’d simply fallen out of his nest in his eagerness to be first in the queue for food brought in by the dutiful parent birds. Tawny owls are always doing this and usually they will return to the nest by climbing the tree where their nest is and returning to base. In the meantime, it will call to the parent birds which will continue to feed it.

There are exceptions of course. I remember one tawny owl chick, which I returned to the tree where its nest was only for it to be found once more on someone’s lawn. Again, I returned it to the tree and again it was found on the lawn. This time, I put it back in the tree and watched. Before long a grey squirrel came along and literally pushed the owlet back out of the tree. That one, I’m afraid, had to be hand reared. I might say I climbed the tree very carefully and also wore a hat for tawny owls defend their territories and especially their nests ferociously. Tawny owls have very sharp talons and are very prepared to use them. The wildlife photographer, Eric Hosking, lost an eye to a tawny owl when he got too close to its nest!

The most remarkable waif and stray to come my way was a fox cub. From the start it was a curious story in which a gamekeeper had attacked an earth in which was a vixen with newly born cubs. The terriers were thought to have done their job and dispatched the cubs, but the keeper passed the earth again the next day and found one remaining cub, which had survived the slaughter, wandering about at the mouth of the earth. He hadn’t the heart to kill it and took it home, however, Mrs. gamekeeper didn’t approve and that was when my telephone rang.

Sithean’s eyes were still closed when she came to me and I estimated that she was perhaps three days old meaning she had to be bottle-fed several times a day … and night! Such was our concern for the creature that my wife took it to work with her in order to ensure that it was fed regularly. Not surprisingly, the wee animal imprinted upon us and presumably saw us as its parents!  Having the run of the house - incredibly she learned to use a litter tray – she was fun loving and into every nook and cranny.

Much later, she went outside into a compound especially constructed for her benefit and, as far as we could tell, she lived out her life there as happily as if she had lived in the wild, perhaps even more so for there she was safe. Foxes get short shrift in most places and generally don’t last long but she was well fed on road- killed pheasants and rabbits and she loved eggs which she used to bury very carefully and eat later. It was hilarious to watch her trot proudly round her compound carrying it so carefully in her mouth and looking for somewhere to bury it. Over her lifetime, she was introduced to legions of people who had never been as close to a fox as that and liked nothing better than having her tummy tickled!

On one occasion during a storm, a branch was blown down which made a hole in the netting around her compound and she got out. My first intimation as to what had happened came when I fed my hens outside the back door and found myself looking at a line of pecking hens with a fox - Sithean - standing next to a hen and eating the hen food! I had an urgent appointment to go to and had no time to repair the fence so I put her in the utility room and departed, not returning until that evening. The following morning, I was wakened by the telephone ringing. It was a neighbour telling me that their dog was in their garden playing with a fox. I discovered that she had gone through the utility room window so I rushed out only to see the fox running down the track towards the woods so I put my dog, who the fox adored, into my vehicle and followed her. Along the way, she stopped to sample some pheasant food and I let the dog out upon which she immediately came trotting to the vehicle to be picked up and put safely in it.  Fence duly repaired, she was returned to her own little world.

One of the strangest owl guests I had was one which was unfortunately found hanging over a river by some abandoned fishing line in which she had got her wing well and truly tangled. So much had she struggled that the line was wound round and round one wing.  It took some time to release her and then we had to remove all the fishing line. She had obviously been thus suspended for some considerable time for soon after disentangling her wing literally dropped off. So, we had a one-winged owl. Nevertheless, she coped well enough but simply refused to be confined and was consequently named ‘Houdini’.  In the end, we gave up and instead let her live out the rest of her life in our orchard. I put food out for every day and she clambered down from the trees, picked it up and climbed back up to eqt it at her leisure. She was just one of many tawny owls we played host to and she lived out the rest of her life in the orchard.

For anyone trying to play host to a tawny owl, food is a problem for although scraps of meat are all very well, the key element essential for their digestive systems is roughage in the shape of fur and feather. It may initially be entertaining and indeed challenging to look after the likes of tawny owl chicks but sooner or later they need to go back to the wild, so it’s better to contact an organisation like the SSPCA. However, please remember that most tawny owl chicks are found without really being lost!

 

Weekly Nature Watch 22nd May 2020

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Way back in the nineteenth century, great crested grebes came very close to extinction in Britain and by 1860, their numbers were down to a mere forty-two pairs having previously been widely distributed. Their ‘crime’ was to be the possessors of fine plumage, especially the chestnut coloured frill of cheek feathers as well as the soft white body plumage, which were much in demand by Victorian milliners and dressmakers.

Accordingly, grebes were slaughtered willy-nilly just so that their feathers could adorn ladies’ hats and dresses! However, eventually a band of ladies got together determined to put an end to this deadly trade. They called themselves, the ‘Fur, Fin and Feather Folk’! In 1889, this transmogrified into the Society for the Protection of Birds which, in 1904, was given royal approval by Edward Vll and become the RSPB.

The activities of the Fur, Fin and Feather Folk in the nineteenth century led to an Act of Parliament, the Bird Protection Act of 1867, to protect birds from this unnecessary slaughter and the effects were striking. 0n a reservoir at Tring in Hertfordshire in 1867, there was but a single pair of grebes but after the introduction of the act, there were seventy-five pairs by 1884!

Since then, such has become the universal interest in wildlife, and birds especially, that this organisation currently has over a million members and has established a range of reserves in different habitats throughout the UK to further its work of conservation. With such a large membership, the RSPB also is heeded by politicians thus ensuring that the conservation ethic is foremost in the minds of the decision makers. Although, in the present circumstances, access to its reserves is of course severely restricted, the valuable work continues unabated but without access to public funds such as donations at their reserves, charities like this are beginning to lose ground and are suffering financially.

Now, the great crested grebe flourishes once more albeit that it is a bird which largely restricts itself to lowland waters and is not a Highlander. I well remember watching a grebe in a lovely lowland lochan on a regular basis. I was able to see it from the high point of a sharply rising bank and was able to admire the bird’s amazing ability when it swam below the surface of what was a crystal-clear stretch of water. Grebes may be modest flyers, requiring quite long stretches of water to become airborne and are exceedingly clumsy on terra firma, a fact that earns them the sobriquet of ‘arsefoot’. Their feet are set back so far on their bodies that the nickname is indeed apposite. On land the birds are, to all intents and purposes, pretty helpless and are, however, at their very best when diving and pursuing small fish below the water’s surface - supreme sub-mariners. Such are their limitations on the ground that they usually build floating nests in reed beds close to the shore to which access is gained exclusively from the water itself. 

Because it spends so much of its time hunting fish under water, the great crested grebe is widely known as a ‘doucker’, a ‘crested doucker’ in East Lothian, a ‘horned doucker’ elsewhere and in the west of Ireland, a ‘greater loon’. At the time that they were being used by milliners and dress designers, a cotton cloth known as ‘grebe fur’ was manufactured.  The soft white body plumage of grebes had already become popular for trimmings on ladies’ dresses and hats and with the production of this artificial cotton material, the bird also became known as a ‘satin grebe’, although the cloth, initially imported from abroad, had nothing whatsoever to do with grebes!

Grebes are familiar on our local loch, arriving here in the early spring from the salt waters off the east coast, where they winter. But grebes have another claim to fame.  In 1914, also at Tring, Julian Huxley, the eminent scientist, made a study of their fascinating courtship behaviour which was to become a standard reference. There is repeatedly, much head shaking, which seems to be a part of any grebe relationship but when they are courting really earnestly, they put on a performance reminiscent of some watery ballet. Both birds initially dive in order to retrieve water weed which is then held in the beak as the two birds approach each other head on, heads wagging vigorously. They meet chest to chest and with frantic paddling rise until only their rear ends remain in the water. This is grebe courtship at its most intense.

With fishing currently suspended due to the onset of Covid-19, the grebes and many other waterfowl have the waters of the loch to themselves. Thus, they are totally undisturbed and able to get on with their lives without interference. As might be expected, the loch also has a burgeoning population of mallard and indeed in recent days, I have seen little posses of mallard sloping off to the surrounding fields doubtless with breeding intentions. There are also goosanders, tufted duck and a colony of Canada geese plus a motley collection of gulls.

The proliferation of Canada geese throughout Scotland is not necessarily welcome. They were introduced from Canada centuries ago to decorate newly designed estate lakes mostly in England but they subsequently went feral.  Their migratory instincts persuaded them to move northwards at the end of the summer to the Moray Firth for the moult and doubtless as they overflew parts of Scotland, they recognized opportunities to settle.  Consequently, their numbers have gradually grown and grown and it is said that four Canada geese can consume as much grass as a single sheep so, not surprisingly, they are pretty unpopular with farmers

The shoreline of the loch is fished by herons, the depths by ospreys, so there is always something on the move. Currently, the ospreys are sitting on eggs, and the males are doing most of the fishing to keep the sitting hens supplied with a constant supply of scaly food.  Although there are no fisher folk trying to lure trout from the waters with their remarkable collections of artificial flies, there are still the herons, ospreys and occasionally otters to keep the fish moving. However, the goldeneye that winter here have now departed for their breeding grounds north and east of here in Scandinavia and even as far away as northern Russia. The pink-feet have also gone, bound for Arctic regions.

Meanwhile, the grebes continue to display. Sometimes they will simply swim towards each other, shaking their heads and crowing before, breast to breast, they rear up again in the water. These submariners only take very small fish, which they pursue underwater with alacrity. Hence, they are not seen to pose any kind of threat to fisheries whereas the goosanders are disliked by the angling fraternity for taking young trout and salmon. They too exploit their diving ability to catch their fish beneath the water’s surface.

Until restrictions are lifted, all of these spectacular events will of course, go largely unnoticed. The loch these days is indeed a quiet place!

Any natural place contains an infinite reservoir of information, and therefore the potential for inexhaustible new discoveries.

Richard Louv, Last Child in the Woods