Spring ptarmigan

Snow-laden clouds lie heavily over the Cairngorms

It's Spring in Scotland and there have been some late snow falls in the hills. Yesterday, I was up counting Rock Ptarmigan Lagopus muta in a long-term study area up on the high summits. The wind was cold, the light was a little grey, ice stung my face, there was a tremendous feeling of being out in a truly wild place - alone in the high hills with the birds and mountain hares. I felt at home in my favourite habitat.

A cock ptarmigan looks out over his territory from a rocky vantage point

The ptarmigan were busy displaying over their territories. They made a wonderful sight as they strutted with their red combs held up high, and as they launched out down over the slopes in long parachute song flights. Their loud croaking calls rattled across the hillside, the only other sound being that of the wind rushing over the icy ground, whipping up spindrift. Then the next minute everything would stop and the air sparkled in sunshine.

Another cock ptarmigan floats down over the snowy hillside on a song flight

As I walked up the hill I left a small group of Sand Martins hawking low over the snow-free ground in the valley. They would have just arrived from, or rather been on passage north from their winter quarters, along with the single male Wheatear and several Meadow Pipits that I saw farther up the hill. There were a few Common Gulls flying around, they would be setting up their nesting territories down by some wet hollows in the peat. The only other local birds which spend the whole year in the area, like the ptarmigan, were the Red Grouse. Good numbers of cock grouse were calling to one another and chasing neighbours in defence of their territories. Meanwhile, the hen birds were busy feeding up to gather nutrients, all to make eggs soon. They seemed to ignore all the fuss made by the cock birds, keeping their heads down as they pecked away at the expanding buds of heather.

A bird descending slowly while calling

The ptarmigan live on the highest ground, up where there is not much vegetation and what there is, is short, prostrate in form on the wind-scoured slopes. The birds were mostly moulted out of their winter plumage and into their spring colours. Grey for the boys and mottled brown for the girls. The males are grey as they mostly sit beside grey lichen-covered rocks, the hens need to resemble the colours of the heath where they feed and nest. They will have to sit on their nests for about three weeks while they incubate the eggs alone. Seldom coming off the nest, lest the eggs become chilled and the embryos die.

A partially moulted hen ptarmigan keeps to the partially snow-free ground, well matched to both types of ground cover

I walked quietly past the birds and they stayed still, not moving any more than they needed to, all part of their strategy to rely on their camouflage to conceal them and to not move to save energy and warmth. I sat beside a pair and when settled down low at ground level, I was out of the wind, tucked into a hollow like the birds. They know to keep out of the wind to preserve body heat, and they have adopted all the best tricks for survival on the high tops. That's one reason I like them. Another is that we share a favourite habitat.

She holds herself in a tight round form, fluffed up and head tucked down into her shoulders - all to keep warm

Spring snow and cuckoos

Snow covering the eastern Highlands - a view from above the North Sea

I flew into Scotland on Monday, the day after a snow storm and the hills were white with Spring snow. However, the weather continued to be wild and windy so it was few days before I could have a clear day on the hills. When I did reach the high ground I could see that the winter had been windy as there were lots of long-lying snowbeds, filled with drifted winter snow; on top and between there was a thin covering of soft new snow, lower down the ground was pie-bald with fresh patches. The whole landscape sparkled in the Spring light between the continuing showers.

The snowy ridge of Creag Leacach under a heavy sky

It was the 1st of May, and after the previous run of warm weather I expected the plants and animals to be well on in their fresh growth and breeding behaviour, no so. The buds on the heather and other heath plants had only just begun to expand, none had opened yet, and the hen red grouse were still feeding up to make their eggs, none had laid a full clutch and begun incubation. The cock grouse were calling out to mark their territories, with an occasional squabble between neighbours, but mostly they were walking along behind their hens, overseeing their safety from predators and keeping suitors away.

A male rock ptarmigan sits quietly - tricky to see as his pie-bald plumage merges well with the patchy snow lie 

My main purpose for the day was to count the numbers of pairs of red grouse and rock ptarmigan on a hill where I have been studying them for over twenty years. So after watching over the ground for a couple of hours, mapping the birds' locations, I ventured on up and slowly quartered the study area. The grouse numbers were high, but there were only a few pairs of ptarmigan and they were rather difficult to see in the snow.

He watches over his female as she feeds on fresh spring growth farther down the slope

As the day drew on, the temperature up on the hill began to drop, so when I came down I enjoyed the warmth of the glen. The birches were opening their leaves and when I stopped by a loch for a look around, I heard my first cuckoo of the year. A cuckoo and Spring snow, a nice day, and rather a nice start to my summer season in the Highlands.