A rain day

Yesterday was little bit wet. It rained all day and the hills in north west Sutherland were blanked out, as seen in this view from the Kyle of Durness.

At high tide the waders on the Kyle were sheltering behind clumps of seaweed, like these four Dunlin. Water is good for saturation, colour saturation, and the richness of the greens and yellows of the seaweed were stunning. These dunlin were probably birds that breed in Iceland and they had been prevented from travelling across the Atlantic by the constant north winds. A Knot, a Sanderling and several Whimbrel were also on the shore, all northn breeding birds. There were about 400 Dunlin waiting in the Kyle.

The rain was heavy, splashing all around and the wind was strong. Yet the birds kept low, tucked in their bills and fluffed up their feathers to keep warm until the tide went back out and they could begin foraging again.

A Ringed Plover rested with a couple of Dunlin, taking time to preen its feathers while they all rested.

A single Greenshank was resting farther along the shore, standing knee deep in weed and rustling its feathers to shake off the rain drops. This bird would have been one of a local breeding pair. Its mate would be incubating their eggs up in their nest hidden on the moorland above the Kyle. This bird would have flown down to the shore to feed on the rich invertebrate life and small fish that live on the edge of the weed.

But the Dunlin are the species that attracted and held my attention. Their breeding plumage of dark bellies and rich red backs are so delicately toned. And their trilling flight calls as they fly over the wet sands are so evocative of the northern heaths and tundra.

Long flight for food

A rock pipit collecting insects from the lawn

While staying with friends in Durness recently there was a steady trip of birds coming to the lawn to forage for insects, especially immediately after it was cut. The list included black-headed and common gulls, pied wagtails and meadow pipits. Special visitors were dunlin - it was great to watch these moorland/shore birds from the lounge window. But I was attracted by the rock pipits, for they seemed to be flying quite a distance down to the shore with food for their chicks. So, I followed their flightline to see just how far they were travelling.

The lawn where the pipits were catching prey, seen from inside the house,
with the Ferryman's Cottage in the background

I was impressed with what I found. The first step, as far as I could follow the birds from the window, brought me to the shore at the bottom of the garden where I found a pair of rock pipits feeding young in a nest in a grassy bank above the tide-line. But those birds were catching insects locally, less than fifty metres from their nest, they weren't the ones from the lawn. So I watched and waited for the lawn birds to fly past. And they did. They came down over the bank then flew low over the water and set out across the estuary with their catch.

The kyle between the mainland and the Cape-side,
the rock pipits were carrying food back to their nest below the cottage

The estuary is the Kyle of Durness which separates the Cape Wrath peninsula from the mainland. I watched the birds fly right over the low tide sands and water channel, several hundred metres wide, and for a total journey of over a kilometre, to feed their young in a bank below the old Ferryman's Cottage. Why the birds were flying so far to collect food is intriguing, but I am never amazed by what I learn about wildlife, simply ever-more respectful of their capabilities.

A brood of four rock pipit chicks lie quiet in their nest - waiting for their parents to deliver more food