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| Sunshine and Showers - pastel sketch on paper |
Inch by sliddery inch I could feel by bum slip down the boggy slope and as the slide continued the wetness, oozing from below, squeezed into the gap between water-proof trousers and anorak to complete my self appointed misery, but here I am and here I stay for the next couple of hours. As the evening draws to a close and the sky eventually lives up to the weather forecast of clearing to bring colder conditions to the mountains of the Southern Cairngorms, I shiver in the gloaming buzz as the last Bumble-bee heads for home. For those who wait good things come, sometimes.
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| Sketching today |
The rising Moon is before me and the setting Sun is behind me and I feel that I am nowhere, a pointless, waning speck in the hugeness of nature's arena, that itself will march on without any self doubt for millennia to come. In my fugitive smallness, a sharing desire comes galloping forth to be part of that bigger thing or to at least absorb that which you cannot have or in a spiritual sense, drink from God's cup. Sketching maybe gives me a key to get into that state of mind, for that is all it can be or justifies my passage through life by capturing a moment in that bigger thing and that is sharing a love for life.
My shivering was about to pay off as the Golden Eagle finally appeared on nature's stage, to surf the glowing clouds that within, hid a multitude of dark, prowling showers. This is his world that I yearn to share, however am only an appreciative guest soaked in human frailty. He performs a series of territorial sky-dives with ultimate drama and sheer conviction over his dizzying craggy abode. A Kestrel is displaced from a rock ledge by his antics and is shown the door with an astonishing side swipe as the eagle plummets vertically earthwards, then arches his back and wings to climb skywards again to chase the wee falcon further away but, like a bar of soap in the bath, the falcon avoids the grasping clutches of the eagle's razor sharp talons, unlike the victim of their next encounter.
My shivering was about to pay off as the Golden Eagle finally appeared on nature's stage, to surf the glowing clouds that within, hid a multitude of dark, prowling showers. This is his world that I yearn to share, however am only an appreciative guest soaked in human frailty. He performs a series of territorial sky-dives with ultimate drama and sheer conviction over his dizzying craggy abode. A Kestrel is displaced from a rock ledge by his antics and is shown the door with an astonishing side swipe as the eagle plummets vertically earthwards, then arches his back and wings to climb skywards again to chase the wee falcon further away but, like a bar of soap in the bath, the falcon avoids the grasping clutches of the eagle's razor sharp talons, unlike the victim of their next encounter.
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| Waterfall - pastel sketch on paper |
I have never actually seen a hunting Golden Eagle stoop on its prey but 'good things come to those who wait' and sure enough my long vigil was rewarded. After perching in two different places on the crag he lifts into the air to head up the glen in a gliding direct flight and, as if by chance, in the passing he spots something on the grass covered moor and turns on his back in a somersault after applying full air brakes by lowering his legs. Dropping from a height of thirty metres and like a spinning stone he pounces on the prey and cowering over it with wings set like eaves he begins to process it. At this distance of one kilometre I cannot see exactly what he has caught, maybe a Red Grouse or leveret Mountain Hare because of the size, but it only takes him minutes to deal with the prey and in one leap lifts off into the glen's airy void, on hugely scooped wing tips, with the prey suspended in its talons. It would have been fine to see where he decided to have his gloaming meal but that was the last I saw of him, soaring into the heavenly azure sunset with his nape feathers seared in a halo of gold.
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| Golden Eagle lifting off with prey, just look at those wing tips scooping up lift -wow |
Hopefully his mate is incubating somewhere on a high eyrie, but for the life of me cannot find out exactly where, if at all it is there. Let us hope that she is well and safe from becoming a victim to the poison bait or indiscriminate trapping that has been prevalent on some of the neighbouring estates. It stuns me to think that Victorian standards of persecution thrive on certain shooting estates in Scotland and because many deem themselves to be above the law and are well rehearsed in the avoidance of prosecution they continue with illegal activities on remote, unwatched moorland. One shameful neighbouring estate has a shift system for game-keepers facilitating twenty-four hour, seven days a week patrols against raptors, crows, foxes, wildcats, martens, stoats, weasels, hedgehogs, rats and the odd passing deer. The estate has a policy of shunning the local community with 'no-talk' contracts and most locals in the glen find the owners and 'imported' staff distasteful; the price of grouse shooting has gone too far.
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| Golden Eagle carrying prey |
The Ranting Soap-box;
I listened to the recent Scottish parliamentary debate about raptor persecution relevant to a motion proposed by Paul Wheelhouse MSP. The most used phrase in the debate by MSP's was 'the few individuals' who carry out
these crimes and failed to stress or comprehend the hierarchy of modern shooting estate
management where a very rich owner delegates ownership to his off-shore company
that employs a factor who dictates to the head-keeper who then dictates to the
under-keeper who then tells a teenage probationary keeper what to do; the long
arm of the law has therefore no chance to define the guilty party.
For example, only yesterday we hosted a talk about Glen Esk
in Angus at the museum by a local couple who have lived in the glen all their
lives and had seen many changes in the community there, which is mainly
involved in sport shooting. Our speaker was livid that one well known estate (well known for mysterious raptor persecution incidents and grouse 'farming') had recently
barricaded a frequently used footbridge, built hundreds of years ago, with
spiked railings and razor wire on their march side. No consultation with the
farmer, locals and walkers who use it was undertaken and this is typical
of the self declared, independent state that this estate owner has granted upon
himself and effectively his staff; who by the way have to isolate themselves
from the local community by signing a no-talk contract and live in a job tied
property with the threat of eviction if things are not done to the hierarchy's
satisfaction. This has led to a high turnover of untraceable and unscrupulous
young 'keepers' who are used, then dumped and therefore the police are left
bamboozled by the complexities of collating evidence in this chain of
'whodunnit in absentia' carried out on
what is really a feudal estate managed to Mafia standards.
End of Rant.
Notes;
All sketches and photos done on the day and are artist 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.
No map for conservation reasons and no wildlife was unduly or knowingly disturbed by my presence or for the purposes of this web page other than what would be expected on a normal hill walk.