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| Loch Lee and Mount Keen - pastel sketch on paper |
This time last year the whole highland landscape was steeped in an icy coldness that lasted for months, so the search for signs that Spring is knocking on the door is on the agenda today. A smattering of diffuse sunshine illuminated the glen for a while and this was enough of a hopeful justification for me to carry on into a mellow westerly wind which was atomised with the finest of rain-drops and not snow, that's a positive start. The lower part of the glen was astir with action. The song of the Mistle Thrush broke through the gushing crash of the river in spate and Lapwings dive bombed each other over the wet rushes and two Mallard drakes chased the single, romantically challenged duck. My ears were full of bird song as I slowly walked beneath the Scots Pine trees and then, like a last request, slowed again to soak up the busy pleasure that pervaded the air.
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| Sketching today |
Early morning greetings to Fergus and Scruffy were bid and both stood to slumped attention in their equine designer jackets waiting for the one thing that is always on their mind. Me and my rucksack squeeze and push past, neigh horse handle, the beasts from the gate and much to their disappointment all of my bits are not made of carrot. Tweed was in his kennel and at least managed to wag his tail without barking when he recognised me and I really wanted to collie-nap him for a walk. Leaving the haughs to climb the hill-side delivered a measured respite to the song of the glen and then that vacant aria was filled with the plaintive call of the Lapwing and the alarm call of the shyly escaping Snipe. Both of these waders have then concurred that the tender roots of regrowth have arrived and that they are claiming territory.
A pair of Woodcock are always poking around the same boggy, flush of rushes and usually they wait until you are a few paces away from them before taking flight. From under my feet, one rises and flies across the glen in a direct flight, its plumage is in perfect harmony with the background of tawny sedges and olive heather. Just a wee bit further on, the clumped primary wing feathers of a hen Pheasant are lying on the flattened bed of rushes and they are torn off in a straight line across the quills. At first, I thought that they might belong to one of the Woodcock pair because of the similar pattern colouration and the fact that this is their home habitat. After consulting my friend Mike and on a closer inspection, the tan bars have small specks of dark brown which indicates a hen Pheasant, even although they are scarce in this part of the glen. I have seen grouse wings processed in the same way by the Golden Eagle but a Stoat will also nip the tops of feathers off at the quill.
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| Pheasant wing feathers |
A pair of Woodcock are always poking around the same boggy, flush of rushes and usually they wait until you are a few paces away from them before taking flight. From under my feet, one rises and flies across the glen in a direct flight, its plumage is in perfect harmony with the background of tawny sedges and olive heather. Just a wee bit further on, the clumped primary wing feathers of a hen Pheasant are lying on the flattened bed of rushes and they are torn off in a straight line across the quills. At first, I thought that they might belong to one of the Woodcock pair because of the similar pattern colouration and the fact that this is their home habitat. After consulting my friend Mike and on a closer inspection, the tan bars have small specks of dark brown which indicates a hen Pheasant, even although they are scarce in this part of the glen. I have seen grouse wings processed in the same way by the Golden Eagle but a Stoat will also nip the tops of feathers off at the quill.
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| Did he mention eagle, where? Red Grouse romance (cock on the right) |
One cock Red Grouse had certainly claimed his prize on the very summit of the hill and he pursues her relentlessly on the ground and in the air. His eyebrow wattles have fully developed into scarlet beacons of desire and his plumage is richly dark when compared to the hen's mottled tan used for camouflage when sitting on eggs in the heather. They chase and then fly fast in a big arc over the moor using me as a hub to return and land not far away on what is obviously another example of claiming territory. They are truly a wild and unique bird found only in Britain, notice I did not say game bird because it is often overlooked as a species in its own right, deserving an appreciation for their highland survival skills, second only to the higher altitude Ptarmigan. The winter congregations of grouse found in the deepest times of winter have broken up because most of the grouse that I put up in my wanderings today seem to be paired and incidentally find very few signs of predated grouse but more evidence of Mountain Hare kills.
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| Mountain Hare remains |
A hare carcass is interesting in the fact that the remaining skin is spirally stretched out from the shoulders to the head leaving the ears sticking out in a very precise dissection. The brain and skull have been consumed leaving the skeleton bare and placed precisely on the bones is one faeces scat which is quite dark in colour. Now, whether a Red Fox would leave a carcass in this way I am not certain and the probability is high this is the case. Most fox scats found on the hills here contain lots of hare fur which makes the colour fairly light but this scat is rather raw looking and dark. Anyone who has read my previous stories will know where I am going with this, so here goes. Wildcats mark out their territory marches with unburied scat, the skin has been rolled back from the skeleton and a cats favourite part of any kill, the brain, has been eaten so is it possible that a wildcat has feasted here - maybe. Reports from a local man seem to suggest that there are wildcats in the glen but the uncertainty of them being the pure and very rare Scottish Wildcat does exist, although one description given matches well to that of a big Scottish Wildcat tom. I live in hope!
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| Red Deer hind and yearling |
A sure sign of things returning to normal is the arrival of the Meadow Pipit, a classic summertime breeder in these parts. One solitary bird in fresh tawny plumage leads me on a merry dance through the heather tussocks and boulders to photograph it but, as you can see, no results. Another very early migrant arrival that tested my hearing was a Ring Ouzel singing from the crags and its unharmonious song, which is slightly different to that of the Mistle Thrush, could just be heard over the noise from the burn that gushed in spate with melt from the north facing snow fields and cornices. Strangely enough a couple of sapphire iridescent Dung Beetles were giving each other the once over, admittedly very slowly in the chill air and a post hibernation Fox Moth caterpillar had curled up in defeat to its false dawn of Spring with minute drops of rain settling on the long, charcoal-violet coloured guard hairs that encase its body.
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| Dung Beetle romance |
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| Fox Moth caterpillar |
From the horizon of a plateau iced with snow there appears a small, straggling and struggling skein of Pink-footed Geese flying overhead in the vague, swithering direction towards a homely north. Two of the geese split off in a contrary direction and seem to panic back to the skein, after all crossing these southern Cairngorm hills is a risky business. Last year I found a goose, not far from here, which had been predated by an eagle and by coincidence a Golden Eagle flaps heavily against the wind as it flies with determination over the snow in the distance and it seems to be following the scent of a solitary Raven that passed by that spot a few minutes ago. Ravens and Golden Eagles have a reliant yet adversarial relationship because a busy gathering of Ravens indicates that something is dead, whilst a hunting Golden Eagle means something is about to die. Similarly, Ravens will follow a deer stalk for the resulting grallochs and, ironically, Raven is often on the eagle's menu but understandably not by gourmet choice!
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| Deer gralloching site |
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| Fly pupal cases in sheep carcass wool from last winter |
The worrying part of observing eagles in Scotland is not seeing them during a visit to their known territories and my heart is always full of woe when there is no sign of them after being in their territory all day. There have been a few persecution crimes recently and this area is surrounded by historical persecution hot-spots so every visit is overshadowed by the thought of their well being. As I look at the huge heather burn on Millden estate and the spaghetti junction of newly excavated hill tracks networking the hills into a manageable grouse yielding asset, my fears for the future of the Golden Eagle in this area grows in time with the relentless pursuit for grouse shooting supremacy.
The reason behind some persecution of Golden Eagles on grouse moors is more opaque than you would expect. When an eagle is hunting over a heather moor, the grouse instinctively take to the air because an eagle usually takes its prey on the ground not in mid-air. The grouse know that they have a much better chance of escape whilst in flight and that is the reason why certain game-keepers dislike eagles overflying their moors during a shoot, they can spoil a very expensive day's sport and ruin the reputation of that estate in terms of its grouse prestige. Well, obviously eagles do kill grouse and that does not increase their popularity either. Peregrine Falcons have the opposite effect on grouse, they know that falcons take prey in the air so grouse will not fly if a falcon is overhead. It seems our grouse are not that daft after all and I will not make the obvious statement about the folk who find pleasure in shooting them!
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| Heather burn on Millden estate |
In conclusion there are a few signs that Spring is on its way, the singing mavis, the arrival of the shy pipit to the moor, the insects just beginning to crawl, a shoot of fresh green growth, the stag's grand antlers breaking into shards, waders piping their familiar calls, the eagle and corbie on solitary patrol, the hare casting tufts of rubbed white fur on the heather, the grouse bubbling in tune, the tradition of heather burning has begun and, maybe, a strange feeling of slithery movement from the bracken serpent's hibernaculum deep underground.
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| Solitary Raven |
All sketches and photos done on the day and are copyright.
Please be aware that it is illegal to disturb nesting eagles or other raptors and you may do so inadvertently in your journeys into the highlands. I do not recommend searching for any of the species mentioned in this blog because this may cause undue disturbance to them. With my knowledge of the areas described in this blog I can locate and observe protected species at a respectful distance usually from about 1000 metres for short periods of time only.
gralloch - removal of a deer's internal organs to render a carcass more manageable.
corbie - Raven.
mavis - thrush.
waders - Lapwing, Curlew, Snipe, Woodcock and Redshank are present on the moor.
hibernaculum - underground hibernation area.
daft - stupid and silly.
David Adam web-site