Morvern Wildlife Diary. 8th to 23rd September.
We are once again enjoying a settled spell of calm sunny September weather, and the countryside is looking stunningly beautiful in colourful early autumn shades and lovely crisp light. This past couple of weeks however have been rather unsettled, with grey skies and rain, and we had our first autumn gale. During these wild windy nights (rest assured there will be much much wilder windier nights to come) I often wonder how nature is coping, and where it all is. Where, for example, are all the little birds? Where do they go? Sometimes it absolutely pours with rain, driven on by extremely strong winds. Yet, the next morning, there they are, neat feathers all in place, looking smart and bright and as if the wild night never happened. Where does the young sparrowhawk spend its nights? And on which crag or isolated mountain ash will the eagles choose to sit out their savage mountain nights. Nature’s secrets that we will never get to see.
On a ferry crossing to Oban two days after the gale there were quite a few gannets in the sound, and a manx shearwater, two great sea birds, the later not often seen in the sound, but most likely to be seen after these strong Autumn winds.
After the grey wet spell of weather I grabbed the first sunny day for the hills. There are still meadow pipits about, although for most of the day I saw and heard none. (And I’m seeing far fewer on lowland fields and meadows, most of those big flocks have continued on their way) Flushed just one skylark, it too will head south. Three twite along a long hill crag, nice little hill finches, and a kestrel, and a hill top snipe flushed from a wet pool. A fleeting golden eagle disappeared over the skyline. That’s often the way with golden eagles, either that or you watch them for ages and ages, and ages, and you keep watching, because you never know what they might do. Two ravens circled up into the blue above the hill, uttering the occasional raven croak. I kept looking to see where they were from time to time, and found them together with a sub-adult sea eagle. Normally, ravens will call in a repetitive alarmed and characteristically annoyed agitated and angry manner when they are seeing off eagles, but these two weren’t that bothered by the eagle, and were unusually quiet, perhaps because the breeding season is over and the ravens no longer have vulnerable young to protect. One of the ravens though, did chase the big bird on its way for quite a distance before returning with a casual been there done it all before look about it.
I was wondering about the red deer rut, had it started? I had heard the occasion after dark roar from stags close to the village recently, and heard a couple of stags occasionally on my way to the hill top. What I found was that yes, the rut was certainly underway, but was not yet in full swing. The group of around forty stags were no longer together, and there were many more, twice the number, of hinds and yearling calves in the big corrie to what there was three weeks ago. There were several large groups of between twenty and thirty hinds with their calves, and with each group, or harem, was a stag. These big impressive stags, black from wallowing in peat, stood among its females, and roared now and then, but they as yet appeared not to have any challengers, other harem-less stags hanging around nearby, looking for a chance to run in and steal a few hinds, or even challenging and fighting to try and take the over control of the whole harem. There was one group of nine stags still together; perhaps these are the younger or older stags who will very shortly try their luck and strength against the master stags. But for now, things were relatively quiet, although the hinds seemed quite tense and edgy, and the big stags were not exactly relaxed.
There were two seasons on the hill that day, on the south side it was early Autumn, warm and sunny, whilst on the north side, the wind was biting and Wintry cold. A perfect hill day though.
I have managed to spend a little time down at the estuary, a very beautiful place at this time of the year with its colourful loch side woods often mirrored in calm, September calm, water. It was nice to see the first wigeon back for the winter, just three males, still in eclipse plumage. On another day, at high tide, nice close views of two female goosander, resting on a bank waiting for the tide to turn, and a pair of graceful, beautiful mute swans. And, just as I was about to leave, and just as the first loch edge mud became exposed, in came a fine greenshank in winter plumage. What a beauty, such an elegant wader. I had hoped to see otter, but they don’t come that easy, just two short visits…I’d have to put in more time than that, and anyway, it’s being there that matters, it is a very beautiful peaceful place, and I saw, and watched and enjoyed those few very special birds. On my next visit, there were just a few gulls, and the swans again, but this time there was an otter, and I was delighted to see it. I watched it for nearly two hours across on the opposite side of the loch, hunting, feeding, and swimming and for a short while out of the water grooming and resting. I would have liked to have stayed to see where it went, but had to go, but was happy to have seen it, and pleased to know that there are still otters in the loch.
In and around the village there are fewer birds now, chaffinch numbers visiting the garden have dropped, and those big flocks of mixed finches on the meadows have dispersed and moved on, as have the big flocks of pipits. Lone swallows are only seen on the odd occasion, passing south. The sparrowhawk has not been seen as often, although I’ve had reports of one round about the village, so if it’s the same bird that’s been hanging about my garden then she starting to venture further a field. A pine martin was seen crossing the main road through the village, and one morning a sea eagle flew low over the houses, flying towards the estuary. It was mobbed by a few angry herring gulls that the eagle tried to swat away as though they were pestering flies with swift upward flicks of its great wings.
Those birds that have moved on, taking the summer away with them, will very soon be replaced by our winter visitors that will be in any day now, redwings, fieldfares, and winter wildfowl and waders whose numbers will increase down at the estuary. But it’s not winter yet, it is the glorious month of October next, and anyway, winter is another season that has its own beauty and beauties.
Some sad news, well I think it is anyway. The old steading that has been the home for dozens of pairs of swallows for years and years, and used by a barn owl this year (and probably before), is to be pulled down sometime soon, perhaps late next year. Builders have been making it safe these past few days, and were going to seal it up completely. I managed to pursued them to leave a few openings so that the swallows can have one more season at least. A shame, where will they go instead?
