At the end of a rainbow

A rainbow ends in a grass tussock

Sunshine and showers are a good mix for watching birds as they take cover while the rain is on, then pop out and get busy as soon as it stops. And rainbows appear.

The grass at the end of the rainbow - nothing there

When a shower passed by last week, I noticed a skylark collecting food and watched it fly twice into the same tussock of grass. So I was certain that there was something there and began to walk over to investigate. Then another sharp shower flashed over and a rainbow curved down into the spot where the skylark had been.

Yes there is - three skylark chicks in their nest

At first glance there was nothing to see at the bottom of the rainbow, but the treasure lay hidden. I parted the grass and there it was, a brood of three skylark chicks, all warm and cosy, and keeping still and quiet to hide from me, a potential predator.

A brood of three, well feathered with still some wisps of down

I closed the grass up over them and left them to it. They would fledge in a day or so, scattering through the grass to separate hiding places for safety, and their parents would fly to each in turn to feed them until they became independent - a further strategy for protection from predators. Ground-nesting birds need to be cautious.

It's the eye that breaks the camouflage

Sad timing

A ptarmigan nest site on a high hillside - but look closely

It's a busy busy time of year for fieldwork in the Highlands at the moment and although the weather has improved, there have been some casualties from the previous week's storm. One such, which I have found, was this clutch-brood of ptarmigan.

The nest after the chicks had hatched and the hen had led away her surviving chick

I was up in the hills surveying and checking on the progress of a population of ptarmigan that I have been studying for many years now. Their numbers were low and as the birds were sparse, they were a bit difficult to find, but I did confirm that there were three pairs in the area. The males were all in one flock as they tend to leave their hens about the time when the chicks are due to hatch. And I found a nest where the hen had hatched her chicks.

Two unhatched eggs and a dead chick, which had never dried after hatching, were left in the nest.

I immediately saw that all was not well. There were two unhatched eggs in the nest along with a dead chick and another dead chick lay outside the nest. This was on the Wednesday and there had been a wild storm on the Monday - the day the chicks had hatched. The embryos in the two unhatched eggs had probably died during the cold wet weather that the hen had to sit through while incubating. I have seen eggs fail to hatch in similar circumstances before. Even ptarmigan, which can endure snow storms while incubating, cannot keep all their eggs warm throughout prolonged cold weather.

One chick which had dried after hatching was found dead about a metre downhill from the nest.
Left behind as it was too weak?

Such bad timing. If the chicks had only hatched the following day, the hen could have perhaps saved the two chicks which likely died from hypothermia during the storm. However, there were remains of three hatched eggs, so the hen seemed to have led one chick away safely, so all were not lost. And the good news is that two other hens were still sitting on eggs so their chicks should have a better start now that the weather is warmer. Although, it needs to warm up quickly as the vegetation, including the chicks' main food plants, blaeberry and small herbaceous species, have only now began to open their leaves, and there are still very few insects in the area to supplement their diet.

This ptarmigan was still incubating her eggs, hopefully they will hatch while the weather is warmer and drier.

Wild Pansies - a blue fest

Blue, white and yellow are a perfect mix for flower colour - to the human eye at least.
Have a look at Van Gogh's irises 

Yesterday was wild and windy, again, so not a day for the hills. Instead, I went out to Rattray Head in north-east Scotland, just to get out somewhere and have a look see, and as luck brings to those who do, the sun was shining on the headland. Sand dunes rise high at the head, hiding the lighthouse from view until seen through a gap or from the tops of the marram grass-covered dunes. And it was as I walked through the dunes that I noticed the ground change colour from pale yellow and green to bright blue. Wild pansies Viola tricolor had taken over a hollow.

The delicate flowers were bobbing at all angles in the wind

Wild pansies are also known by the popular name of heartsease, which gives a clue to their use in herbal remedies and their history in folklore. However, I have no knowledge of that so will stick to the their beauty and form. It is a grassland species and this stand was of about half an acre in the landward side of the sand dune system. There were numerous rabbits in the area, some even grazing in the open at mid-day, and they had cropped the grassland short. A soft sward had developed, allowing the pansies to form a mat, so it seems that the rabbits don't eat the plant's leaves. Herbal properties can be species specific.

Ranks and ranks of fresh faces with blue top petals 

I have never seen such an abundant spread of these flowers. Despite all the cool northerly winds, and the resultant retarded growth of so many plants this spring, it is good to see something thriving in these conditions. No matter the weather, it will be good for something, and this year, in the the north-east it has certainly been good for the pansies.

The short rabbit-clipped green grass made an excellent habitat for the flowers to show,
 in woodland grassland they are often crowded out by the grasses

Other animals in the area, which were benefiting from the rabbits' cropping, were meadow pipits, skylarks and a pair of stonechats, all catching insects on the short sward. And linnets were picking at seeds that were too small for me to see. The pipits were feeding large young in their nests and the female stonechat was incubating six eggs in her nest tucked into the dense base of a clump of marram.

A meadow pipit's view of the blue 

From a distance, the blue petals cast a gentle wash over the grassland, their intensity only became evident from within the hollow.

The pansies covered the floor of the hollow

And from a distance, the lighthouse shone white on blue.

The flowers even crept up to the top edge of the dunes,

 looking out over the lighthouse 

Confident Ptarmigan

A hen ptarmigan sits on her nest, quite relaxed - confident but watchful

I have been surveying rock ptarmigan on the hilltops in the far north-west of the Scottish Highlands over the past few weeks and they are now incubating their eggs. The eggs will take about three weeks to hatch, so the birds have to select their nest sites carefully if they are to gain shelter from the type of wild wind and rain they have had to endure recently.

I found this hen ptarmigan soon after finding her mate, who was about a hundred metres uphill watching over her. As I approached him, he flew off then landed about two hundred metres away, giving a brief croaking alarm to the hen. I knew by his behaviour that he would have a hen on a nest somewhere nearby. Although there was a seemingly endless choice of places where she could have been hiding, with years of experience, I took a look over the area and checked what I considered the most likely place where she might be. It helps to think like a ptarmigan and reason why a bird would choose what features to nest near. And there she was, quietly sitting on her nest as I approached, relying on her camouflage to conceal her in the the short vegetation, which was only about seven centimetres tall.

She was nesting in the short Arctic-alpine heath on the summit plateau of a hill

Unlike red grouse, a closely related species which hide and nest in or under the taller heather on the lower moorland, ptarmigan live successfully on the short Arctic-alpine heath which is seldom tall enough for them to hide beneath. They rely heavily on boulders or exposed bedrock for shelter and concealment. Their plumage colouring matches both the heath plants and the lichen-covered rock. Rock ptarmigan are never far from rock of some kind, hence their name.

She had placed her nest close into the lee of a large boulder

I hadn't taken my main camera or lenses with me that day as I had to walk over twenty kilometres of wet heath and bog, climb the hill, and walk into a strong wind. So I only took the binoculars and telescope, and my mobile phone, which was all I had to photograph the ptarmigan with. No problem though, as I always talk to any ptarmigan I approach, for what predator talks to their prey before pouncing on them? I sat down slowly and gently a few metres from her and began to chat. Initially, she had been holding her head low and I could see her breathing deeply. Then, after a minute or so, she had accepted me, lifted her head and began breathing more slowly. I inched towards her and took a few shots, explaining what I was doing all the time and telling her how much I appreciated her life on the high tops. I don't think she understood a word I said, but there was some form of understanding between us and I am sure that she was confident all the while that if I approached too close, she could jump off and fly away unharmed. If any animal uses camouflage for concealment, it needs to be confident in its effectiveness, and evolution needs to have honed the animal's cryptic colouring to perfection. I think this applied to that ptarmigan as a few hundred metres away there was a large cliff and half-way down that cliff there was a pair of golden eagles with a hungry chick. I left the ptarmigan and wished her luck.

From an eagle's eye-view,she was well concealed, as her cryptic plumage matched the colours of the heath

Dryas octopetala and a crafty spider

Freshly opened flowers of Dryas octopetala on a cliff top 

There are outcrops of limestone in the Durness area of north-west Scotland and the resulting soil offers suitable growing habitat for base-loving plants such as the Mountain Aven Dryas octopetala. These Arctic-alpine plants seem to almost grow on the bare rock in places, the soil is so thin, and they can also grow on the sea-cliff tops where there is more than a little shell sand blown in by the Atlantic winds. In places, there are large creeping carpets of the plant's glossy green leaves, and now the flowers are opening, showing their distinctive eight petals from which they are named. Although not all the flowers have eight petals.

As their name suggests, eight petals are the norm

I was creeping about on a rock face, balancing the camera as I tried to photograph the flowers and the plants in their habitat, when I noticed a crab spider lying in wait on one of the flowers. Patiently waiting for an insect to land on the flower for a sip of nectar, when it would pounce and grab it.

A crab spider waits in ambush, forelegs held aloft ready to strike

These spiders don't spin webs, they rely on ambush to catch their meal. The front two pairs of legs of a crab spider are adapted to catch their prey, and they are held up high and open while the spider waits. While it waits, the spider lies facing the centre of the flower, ever ready to jump at an insect as it lands on the nectar-baring flower parts.

The two pairs of fore legs are for catching, the hind two pairs for standing, then jumping

However, after numerous attempts to find an on-line guide to what species I found, I am non the wiser. So, if anyone can help identify this spider please do add a comment below.

But - what is the species?

Surfin' Gadwall

A pair of gadwall Anas strepera dabble in a stream outflow on the estuary

It has been a wild and windy Spring in the far north-west of Scotland, but the birds seem to be just getting on with life and take the weather as it comes. I couldn't venture into the hills the other day as it was too stormy, so I went along the shore of the Kyle of Durness to see what was about. There was a small flock of dunlin with a sanderling, ringed plovers and a few whimbrel, all waiting for the wind to change so they cold fly north to Iceland. And in amongst a flock of black-headed gulls bathing in the fresh water of a steam entering the sea water, there were a pair of gadwall. They were dabbling for food in the fresh water, as they normally do, but as the sea rose, they had to take to the sea and swim. That wasn't easy for them as the waves were rolling into  the bay. They had to paddle into the wave crests to reach calmer water beyond, then they drifted along to a bit of sheltered water behind some rocks. I hadn't seen a dabbling duck ride the surf before. Although I had watched red-breasted mergansers in big surf on a wide beach a few days previously and they, as expert diving ducks, simply dipped into the approaching waves and popped up behind them. Quite a contrast with the gadwall - they ought to stick to the fresh water.

The duck led the way into the waves

As they are dabbling ducks they didn't like to dip their heads into the waves, but kept their heads up like novice surfers

True to fashion, the water ran off their backs and off they went

Frogs spawning in a mountain pool 

Common Frog Rana temporaria in a high hilltop spawning pool

It is now mid-May and frogs are spawning in the hill pools in the Highlands. Sadly, there have been many days of snow showers recently and there are lots of late lying snowbeds for the frogs to contend with.

Ben More Assynt from one of the frog pools on the summit ridge of Glas Bheinn

I was up on Glas Bheinn in Assynt yesterday surveying ptarmigan on the high rocky ground, and while walking past a small pool at about 700m I noticed some frogspawn in the margins. I counted about 75 separate clumps of spawn and some of the tadpoles had begun to hatch. Then I checked a second pool where there was still snow lying around the edge, and there was one massive accumulation of spawn in a corner. Some of it had been frosted and the embryos were dead. The spawn had a grey opaque appearance. Then I noticed that there were numerous dead frogs lying on the bottom of the pond, while others were still amplexed together and swimming in the near-freezing water.

Late-lying snow edged the pool and the grasses had not yet started to grow

Life for those frogs up on the high hills is so different from that of those in the warmer lowland waters. They must be so wonderfully well adapted to survive in such conditions. They are amphibians, cold blooded animals, yet they were getting on with life right on the margin of their physiological capabilities. Meanwhile, I was all wrapped up in windproof clothing and still felt cold in the northerly wind. Well done the frogs that managed to lay their eggs and their tadpoles that hatched. Well done.

A large clump of frogspawn lay in the shallows, and dead frogs lay in the depths

Sea-eagle and sandpiper

It has been a hectic week, or rather two weeks for me recently, trying to study greenshanks and golden eagles in the far north of the Scottish Highlands. All due to late snow showers and strong northerly winds. It's rather difficult to watch birds when I can't hold binoculars steady or even hold myself steady in buffeting winds. But, today turned out successful and I am back early enough to post an update.

The young white-tailed sea-eagle lifts off its feeding site leaving some morsels to a waiting raven

One evening last week, while out watching greenshank, I noticed a great black-backed gull standing on a hillside above a river. That seemed a bit out of place out on the moors, so I spied it, and immediately I saw why it was there. A white-tailed sea-eagle was a little downhill from the gull, feeding on something, I couldn't make out what. But I would not have noticed the eagle itself as it was an immature bird with no white on it. It's dark grey-brown body merged into the grey-brown hillside in the driving rain. I noticed the gull only because it was white on a dark background. I stopped and watched until the eagle had eaten enough and flew off. And as it did so, I grabbed a few poor long-range photographs through the rain, to check if it was ringed. And it was, but I couldn't make out the colours or numbers on the ring. It looks like it had been ringed as a nestling in 2014 by one of my colleagues in the Scottish Raptor Study Group, so I sent them a copy of the photograph in case they can make something of it.

Blue over yellow on the left, and dark green over metal on the right - the male of a pair a common sandpipers that have bred in the northern Highlands three times and been to Africa twice in that time, at least.

Then, on the next morning, on my way out to look for greenshanks, I saw a pair of common sandpipers feeding along a loch shore, so I stopped to check their legs for colour rings, and sure enough, both were ringed. These had been ringed by Ron Summers and Brian Etheridge of the Highland Ringing Group two years previous and when I told them about my sightings, they said the birds had not been there the day before, so the sandpipers had only just arrived back from their winter quarters in Africa that morning, or the night before. And there they were, looking as fresh as can be, having flown all those miles, not once but for their third time at least, back to their breeding grounds by a Highland loch. Wonderful birds.

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.

Tawny Frogmouths in their winter roosts

A Tawny Frogmouth roost-tree in open woodland

It's now late autumn and migrant birds such as the yellow-faced honeyeaters are flying over the house and general area on their annual migration to the northern and coastal forests. While other birds like the tawny frogmouths are settling down in the local woods for the winter. The frogmouths stay in their breeding territories over the winter, probably because they are a valuable resource and worth defending. And in the bird world, occupiers usually win over any intruder. So to keep warm in the cooler months, during the day they settle on a favourite perch where they can catch the winter sun.

A Tawny Frogmouth sits quietly in her roost

I know most of the local birds' perches and  most days they will be in one of perhaps two or three, for they have sussed that those branches offer shelter from predators and exposure to the sun. Exposure to the sun is important to them, for the morning sun warms them up. Also, these birds can go into torpor for part of the day to conserve energy. And that is not their only two strategies for enduring the winter, they also build up body fat. The female I found dead last week was carrying 88 grams of fat, approximately 16% of her weight, and her stomach was full of beetles and large moths. The contents formed 8% of her weight. She had been feeding hard catching the last of the autumn insects before the lean times ahead in the cold nights. (I acknowledge Gil Pfitzner of CSIRO for this information as he was the one who prepared her skin for the national collection and took these measurements).

This bird is several years old - I know her by the pattern of her bib,
and she knows me because she has seen me so often over the years

The more we look at birds, or any other wildlife, the more we can learn about how well adapted each species is for its own niche. As for the tawny frogmouths, they have so many adaptations, they continue to fascinate me. No doubt they will have more that I don't know of - just what is the purpose of those bristles above their eyes and bill?

Here she has closed her eyelids, almost. She is still peeping through a slit and even if she closed her eyes further, she could watch me through tiny gaps between her eyelids. For her eyelids have rippled edges allowing her to see out, but not for a predator to see her eyes. Frogmouths are very well adapted for concealment, right down to their eyelids, and surveillance at the same time. Eyes can be a big betrayer of camouflage. This bird hasn't gone into full defensive pose as she is familiar with me and does not feel under threat. She is just basking in the sun - with a little caution.

A true Tawny Frogmouth

A truly red/rufous coloured Tawny Frogmouth found in Canberra - a victim of road kill

It was wet with heavy rain last night, and all day today, and when I drove into town in the morning I saw a dead bird lying in the cycle lane. It looked like a Boobook, the common local owl in Canberra, but it didn't look right for one. So I took note of where it was in order to check it on my return. Maybe it was something else, what? Then an hour later, as I approached the bird from the other direction, I saw straight away that it was a Tawny Frogmouth, but it was so red, and that is why I hadn't recognised it first time. Although I study these birds and have seen hundreds of individuals, none have been as red as this bird.

All the frogmouths I have seen in the Canberra area have, despite their name, been predominately grey. The males have, if any, only a little red on the sides of their face or a touch on their wings coverts. The females are usually more rufous in the same parts, and a few have a bit more red on their wings, but none I have seen have been so red as this bird. I would so much have liked to have met her when alive in the bush.

The whole of her upper body was red
 apart from her primary and secondary feathers which were dark brown/black

The bird's body was in good condition apart form the obvious head injury that killed her outright. So I gathered her up and took a few measurements for my own records. Her corpse is now in the freezer and on Monday I shall deliver her to the Australian National Wildlife Collection, which is conveniently held by CSIRO here in Canberra, the national capital.

I must look up the type-specimen of Tawny Frogmouth one day to see whether that bird was truly tawny, or grey like most in south-east Australia.

She still had a recently caught moth in her bill when she died

The moth was large, with a body about 8-9 cm long, and grey overall with no particularly obvious features. If anyone has an idea of what it might have been please drop a note. It was obviously too large a prize for the bird to ignore as she risked the traffic to catch it. Let that be lesson to us all: take care on the roads especially while there is heavy rain.

Mixed Foraging Flock

A Buff-rumped Thornbill: they glean food from the lower branches, trunks and ground litter

Now that autumn is well on the way here in Canberra, the woodland passerines are gathering into their mixed foraging flocks. These flocks are similar to those in northern-hemisphere woodlands where several species; such as coal tits, blue tits, great tits, goldcrests and treecreepers all join together and roam through a local patch of woodland. In and around Canberra, a typical mix of species would be like one I saw yesterday which consisted of; several buff-rumped thornbills, several yellow-rumped thornbills, perhaps ten grey fantails, I think three white-throated treecreepers, a family party of superb fairy-wrens, two scarlet robins, a pair of speckled warblers and a grey shrike-thrush.

A Yellow-rumped Thornbill: they flit down to the ground for their food

These mixed flocks are an efficient strategy for the birds to collect food within the safety of their group. Many eyes are better than one for locating food and for detecting any approach of potential predators. And each species has its own preferred type of food or place to gather it from. The buff-rumped thornbills pick away at the bark for insects beneath and they might not catch every insect they disturb. Then the fantails might zip in and snatch a insect trying to escape, or a speckled warbler following along on the ground can pick up any grubs that the thornbills dislodge. The yellow-rumped thornbills keep in their own flock within the mixed flock, dropping to forage on the ground then flying back up to the lower branches after a quick feed. The superb fairy-wrens probably only joined the party as the flock moved through their home patch, taking the advantage of the group foraging behaviour while they could.

A Grey Fantail: they fly-catch tiny insects, often those disturbed by the other birds in the flock

Two male Scarlet Robins dispute in the branches

Within each mixed foraging flock there are usually two scarlet robins, one male and one female. They seem to adopt the flock as their winter/non-breeding season territory and they defend it from all other scarlet robins. Yesterday I watched two such male robins displaying and threatening one another in such a dispute for ownership. The resource of a mixed foraging flock, with its advantages for survival, is clearly a valuable commodity for woodland birds.

That mixed flock seemed to consist of mainly lower branch- or ground-feeding birds. I saw another two like that later and one flock which was formed mostly of striated thornbills and striated pardalotes, working their way through the canopy, picking food from the leaves and twigs, never venturing near the ground. Each bird in each flock will know their local patch of the woodland and together, they will work their way through the habitat every day of autumn and the oncoming winter.

Then in spring, they will disband and settle into pairs on breeding territories.

Easter Bunny Hare

It's Easter and the Easter Bunny is hiding chocolate eggs all over gardens, or is he she? 

A White Hare - well almost white, in late winter / early spring pelage

The Easter Bunny is a modern spin on an ancient game originally played by children (and their parents) in Germany. The children would build little nests for the Oschter Haws - the Easter Hare - to come during the night and lay fancifully decorated eggs, a bit like Santa Claus coming at Christmas. This all developed from the pagan festival Ostara; celebrating the spring equinox, the Goddess Eostre and the arrival of fresh growth and new life. And as hares are obvious in springtime, they would have been a clear choice for a symbol of new life. Not rabbits, as they are a Mediterranean species and would have been unknown to people in the distant past in what is now Germany.

The bunny took over the role following the American adoption of the tradition, along with the chocolate eggs. As to why the bunny is white, the Oschter Haws is supposed to be white, but I don't know if anyone has ever seen him to verify that. Why is the bunny male anyway, shouldn't it be a female if it delivers eggs and is a symbol of new life?

I don't have a photograph of a white rabbit, nor a white phase Brown Hare, which I think the Oschter Haws is? So here I have added a shot of a white Mountain Hare, and a set of triplets I found last spring in the Scottish Highlands. A true sign of Spring and the fresh beginning to a year.

Happy Ostara to you all.

Three mountain leverets lying in one form, most unusual as they are usually kept separate for protection from predators

Leverets lie still, but ever watchful and ready to bolt to safety if threatened