Finnmark birds

A Common Crane strides with ease through dwarf birch and willow scrub on the edge of a mire in  Finnmark, arctic Norway.

I was there to continue helping with surveys and monitoring of birds. For more information, follow this link to the main part of the project, Broad-billed Sandpiper study. The study is still ongoing, as we have deployed geolocator tags on the sandpipers and aim the retrieve them next summer when the birds return from their wintering grounds. So, this post gives only a brief sample of some of the other birds I saw while in the area.

Whimbrel are one of the larger waders that breed in the tundra, especially on lichen-rich heaths or as in this case, cloudberry-crowberry dominated peaty heath next to a mire.

There were a few rainy days when all was quiet. This Ringed Plover was sitting tight on its nest next to a road. The birds colouring fitted well with the lichen-crusted ground.

Out on the mires, there were numerous Red-necked Phalaropes on the open water of tiny pools in the extensive swards of sedges and mosses.

These are great birds, my friends, as they eat hundreds and thousands of mosquitoes, picking them off the water surface or the leaves of waterside vegetation. The mosquitoes make working in the mires extremely difficult due to their incessant biting and swarming around face and hands.

This female Lapland Bunting was feeding on insects, hopefully mosquitoes, in a patch of peat hummocks covered with Labrador tea, cloudberry, crowberry and bilberry.

Her mate was close beside her all the time she was out in the open. The patterns of their markings are similar, but that of the male is much bolder. The flower beside him is Labrador tea.

Down in the valleys, where there are taller trees, woodland passerines are more common, like this female Common Redstart in a Scots pine wood.

Her partner might be more brightly coloured, but he still blended in well with the reds and greys of the pine bark.

It might seem that there is not much to see in the vast landscape of apparently endless mires and woods of Finnmark, but there are plenty, lots, of birds nesting and rearing their young there every summer. Just look a little more closely.

Otters in the Western Isles

Luskentyre beach in South Harris, one of the finest beaches in the world, backed by rugged mountains and edged with weedy rocks which are rich feeding grounds for otters.

I recently spent a week on the islands either side of the sound of Harris. Golden Eagles and White-tailed Sea-eagles aplenty, and there were Red-throated Divers, Corncrake and other rare birds famously found in the islands. Although I like to see and hear the abundance of the more common species, Oystercatcher, Redshank and Snipe. And I spent hours watching otters. They are so adept at hunting, agile, quick, such well adapted animals, I could only sit back and admire them. The one in the photograph above is lying asleep on the seaweed in the background. They are so easiliy overlooked when lying quietly on land.

One clue to their presence can be the behaviour of the birds, like this Herring Gull that had spotted an otter eating a fish. They are probably easier to see from the air. The gull hung around from any scraps, but there were none.

Otters are not much easier to see when swimming at sea either. Look for a head, slimmer and more pointed than a seal's. Seals abound in these seas and every one has to be checked not to be an otter.

Another clue to spot an otter at sea is the flick of a tail. Like the one above, as the otter bobbed in the waves keeping in balance as it munched on a Butterfish.

This one was diving to hunt through the fronds of seaweed fringing the tide zone in a bay. It brought some items onshore to eat, others it persisted in eating while treading water. However, their forepaws are not adapted to gripping and Butterfish are incredibly slippery, hence their name.

But when you have strong jaws and very sharp teeth, you can do it.

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.

A few Highland butterflies

A Chequered Skipper Carterocephalus palaemon sunbathes on a patch of Highland grassland. May is one of the best times to visit the Highlands and it is the month when these marvellous little butterflies begin to fly.

Loch Arkaig, Lochaber, in the west Highlands of Scotland. And the road into the general area where I found these rare and protected skippers.

Glen Dessary at the head of Loch Arkaig. The slopes of the upper glen are clothed in moist grassland, dominated by Purple Moor-grass Molinia caerulea, the main food plant for Chequered Skipper caterpillars. The butterfly's stronghold in the UK is in the western Highlands, where this habitat is abundant.

A site shot of where I found the skippers. The butterflies were making short flights over the grassland on the edge of the woodland, landing frequently to disappear into the herbage. If they hadn't flown I would not have noticed them. There were four of them flying and chasing one another.

Fortunately they all settled with open wings after their short flights, so identification was easy by the chequered pattern on their wings.

A Green Hairstreak Callophrys rubi rests on a clump of sphagnum moss. They are named after the faint white line across the underside of their wings. There were three of these in the same little sheltered patch as the skippers. The main food plant for their caterpillars in the area is Bilberry Vaccinium myrtillus. These are more common and widespread in the Highlands, and mostly fly in May or June. 

And there was also a Large White Pieris brassicae flying over the area. They are abundant over most of the country.

Spring hare

On the same day I took the previous set of photographs of ptarmigan, I took these shots of a Mountain Hare. I followed its fresh footprints in the snow for a few hundred metres to find it in amongst boulders. Most hares dash off when approached, but some are confiding, like this one, which I sat and watched for several minutes as it moved around the boulders looking for food.



The hare was feeding on heather, blown free of snow on top of a ridge. Fortunately, the most nutritious parts of the dry looking plants are the buds, and they are at the tips of the stems, the parts mostly free of snow. The hare was moulting out of its white winter coat and the mix of browns, greys and white blended so well with the mix of old heather stems, rocks and snow.

I was feeling the cold north wind, but the hare was perfectly comfortable in its thick warm fur.

After its feeding bout, the hare hopped over to sit in the lee of some boulders, sitting with its back to the wind, or any wind that might have curled around the rocks. Then is began to groom its fur. This must be important for an arctic-alpine animal to keep their fur in tip-top condition and peak performance.

Then it gave a long stretch of those long hind legs and toes.

Next was a face wash. It looked so warm, with the fine fur on its face and those soft woolly gloves.

And don't forget behind the ears.

Once satisfied, the hare settled down into a relaxed hunch. This is how hares sit when fully resting; head and ears are tucked into the shoulders and legs all snuggled underneath the body. This is important to maintain body heat. The hares body shape also helps aid heat retention; its face and ears are shorter than a brown hare's, as reducing exposure to cold via extremities all helps conserve a liitle warmth.

The hare then sat motionless, a last final trick to conserve energy and heat. Although, it didn't quite fall fully asleep, it kept twiching an eye open. So, as it might have been my presence that was keeping it from fully relaxing, I walked away and left it alone. It had been a great experience to spend time with it, to be accepted as much as is probably possible on a first encounter with a wild animal. And such a beautiful animal.