Yellow

Yellow is definitely the colour of the moment, with the best showing of gorse flowers we've seen; and with every patch of gorse, including this one at the bottom of our garden, there seems to be a pair of yellowhammers in possession. This female was keeping watch while....

....her husband took advantage of the grain we'd put out - and, no, he's not in a cage, the wire is there to deter the rooks.

After a pretty miserable day yesterday this morning the wind swung into the south, the sun shone, and the insects, led by the first tortoiseshell of the year, headed for the masses of dandelions that are out, in places almost forming a carpet of yellow, much appreciated too by....

....bumble bees, flies and hover flies.

Palmate Newts

About half a mile up the track into the forestry above our house there's a small pond which has formed in an aggregate quarry. When we first moved to Golspie we found some newts in it, despite it being very exposed and lacking in pond vegetation. More recently the newts seemed to have disappeared - until yesterday evening when we were taking a stroll and saw....

....what looked like one of the more common smooth newts (also called the common newt). However, when I looked carefully at the photos....

....where three of them appear to be in the mating business, one - the top one - clearly showed webbing between the toes of its rear feet. This is a breeding characteristic of the less common male palmate newt, seen....

....even more clearly in this picture.

Of some concern to us is that the digger has obviously been active in the last few days removing rock from the quarry but there are a couple of good signs. One is that four large rocks have been placed between the digger and the pond (to the digger's right in this picture) and, secondly, the pond hasn't been damaged, both of which seem to indicate that the digger driver is aware of the newts. Let's hope so!

Whitebells

A fine day for us this morning with a very light, but still cool, breeze from the north so we took ourselves for a walk along Golspie's south beach where we had the first definite sightings of martins, possibly one or more of the sand martins which nest in the sandy faces of one of the golf club's small quarries. 

As we walked we were serenaded by the skylarks, one of which landed no distance in front of us and seemed quite unwilling to move, perhaps because we were trespassing into the territory he'd carved out for himself. They've been back some time but some new and very welcome returners to the countryside are....

....the native bluebells, though in this small group there were as many whitebells as blue.

After yesterday's unhappy incident with the siskins, and with the sunflower feeder moved, we've had an invasion of these pretty little birds, though they are also amongst the most aggressive for their size. At one time we had four on the feeder and six on the ground, of which only one was a female.

Siskin Tragedy

Yesterday, in a further attempt to lure the local wild birds closer to our house, I hung a sunflower seed feeder off the end of the veranda not appreciating the consequences of it being right next to....

....a door with a window forming its upper half, with the result that....

....two beautiful male siskins in their full mating finery flew into the glass, evidently with such force that they died immediately.

There hasn't been a comparable disaster since one of our cats caught a goldcrest, the only one I ever saw while we lived at Matenderere, and proudly presented it to us by leaving its rather chewed corpse on the back doorstep.

The only positive aspect of this sad event is that the local siskins aren't rare here, not like the Ardnamurchan goldcrests. Nevertheless, the feeder has been hurriedly moved and the two tiny bodies buried with full ceremony in the back garden.

The Intelligence of Rooks

"There must be a way of getting the sunflower seeds out of that feeder.

"Now, let's see, perhaps if I....

"....give it a good shake, jiggle it up and down a bit....

"....lift it and drop it. Yes! Plenty falling out now but....

"....it's my mates who are benefiting, not me!"

Panasonic DMC-FZ200

The camera I use, a Panasonic DMC-FZ200, must now be over ten years old and has taken thousands of pictures in environments from the heat and humidity of Tanzania to the chill of Alaska. 

To be honest, if it stopped working tomorrow I would probably go out and buy the same machine again, though it does, for my needs, have some limitations. The worst is evident in this picture, where a couple of days ago I was trying to capture the first greenfinch I'd seen at our new house - and the camera simply wouldn't quite focus on it, preferring to focus on the twigs. The camera does have a manual focus feature but it's very clumsy. The only way of getting round this is to have a bridge camera like mine but with a manual focus - and I don't think such a machine exists.

The joy of the camera is that it's almost totally automatic. I know nothing about exposure settings so it does them for me, and it also focuses automatically, though I have various tricks to help me choose my focus. It takes a burst of about 12 pictures per second - used for example when I had only moments to catch these geese as the flew south.... yes, south.... past the house yesterday morning.

The great thing about a bridge camera is that it takes a wide range of types of picture, and can be adjusted to whatever setting I want extremely quickly - as is exemplified by this shot, taken the day before yesterday when I saw a bird, which I suspected was a red kite, soaring near a passenger jet contrail, and even more so when, walking home from the village this morning through the woods I had seconds in which to 'shoot'....

....this red squirrel which had just jumped through the low branches across the path in front of me. 

The camera has become almost an extension to my body, fitting in to my hand and bouncing happily in its case against my hips - and I can draw it faster then Roy Rogers pulled a six-gun. I seems to me to be a perfect example of a machine making easily accessible to amateurs like me a great deal of very complicated technology.

So Many Homes

Upanga Road bungalow

The other day I spent a few minutes counting up the number of places I have called 'home'. Before I started I tried to to define exactly what the term meant as a proper 'home' is more than simply a building in which one lives; there has to be a sense of belonging and, perhaps, of family living there too. I also excluded places where I had only stayed for a relatively short time, temporary residences where I hadn't developed a sense of belonging.

For the purposes of the count I divided my homes into those where the family element of it being a 'home' was that my parents lived there, and those in which Mrs MW made it 'home'. The first group started with the bungalow in Upanga Road which was home after my birth in the European Hospital, Dar-es-Salaam, and, via Mombasa and Sussex, ended with Gawthorpe, a big semi-detached house in the village of Guestling, near Hastings, which my parents had for a few years in the mid 1960s.

Excluded from this list were the two schools in England at which I was a boarder and various places I stayed during Christmas and Easter school holidays while my parents were in East Africa.

The flat in Stone, Staffordshire

Homes made with Mrs MW started with the flat in Stone, Staffordshire, where we lived while I finished my degree and while Mrs MW taught at the local girls' Catholic school, an experience which she did not enjoy. These homes included the bungalow at Bernard Mizeki College, Rhodesia, where we lived for the three years we taught at the school; a chalet-dormer-bungalow in Ludlow, Shropshire; a bungalow in the grounds of Excelsior School in Kingston, Jamaica; a terraced house in a council estate in Basildon New Town, Essex; a big semi-detached house in Maldon, Essex; The Ferry Stores, in the village of Kilchoan, Argyllshire; two houses which we had built for us, Matenderere in Kilchoan and a bungalow in Golspie, Sutherland.

There were various other places in which we lived which I might have called 'home', but at all these the stays were of brief duration.

Matenderere is the left of the two houses.

The list comes to a total of 22 places in which I have felt 'at home'. We only lived for a few months in a couple of them, and the longest we lived in any of them was Matenderere, where we spent over ten happy years.

When I first reached this total I was amazed.... and then horrified. How could I have allowed this peripatetic lifestyle to have happened? And, what effects has it had on my life and on the lives of those I hold dear? 

More Spring Firsts

This photo may not look anything particularly exciting but, for us, it's a significant moment, for this is the first insect we've seen to visit a plant which we have put into the garden at our new house, in which the aim is to make it as bird and insect friendly as possible. We've started with a blank canvas, a rocky subsoil with poor Highland soil above, and ten heathers were amongst the first plants to go in. 

We were at Littleferry this morning and came across these, the first wild pansies, Viola tricolour, of the year, while in the woodland at the back of the links we heard....

....half a dozen or more willow warblers, again, the first of the year. The trouble was that I simply could not get a picture of them, despite some careful stalking, but at least I now have a second best, a recording of their song made on the Merlin app.

Also at Littleferry, at the mouth of Loch Fleet, we were pleased to see fifty or so eider displaying themselves in their best mating plumage, as were....

....a pair of shelduck on Loch Fleet itself.

We also had a distressing moment when we realised that....

....this oystercatcher wasn't dragging a wing to lead us away from a nest but had broken it.

A Wet Spring Walk

Today has been wet; not heavily wet nor windily wet so much as steadily, coldly and persistently wet made worse by the memory of the few gloriously sunshiny intervals we had a couple of days ago. Undaunted, I set off for a walk into the grounds of Dunrobin Castle not expecting much on such a day - but, as often happens, something intervened to cheer me - in the shape of a song thrush.

I stood in this damp, unexceptional clearing, with cold fingers of rain making their way down the back of my neck, and listened to the thrush's glorious song until a growing chill drove me on.

Despite Spring plodding along and the temperature staying well below 10C, there are a few interesting things to find though this part of Scotland must be far behind the rest of the country. The last of the scarlet elfcups are 'in flower' and we have a new spring flower to enjoy....

....as a few wood sorrel blooms are now visible, most nestling on comfy beds of moss.

Then, as I came to the end of my walk, there were a couple of bonuses; a fleeting glimpse of the pale rump of a roe deer as it bounded away into the forestry and....

....when I reached home, a pair of goldfinches enjoying a meal of sunflower seeds.

A Walk to the Shops

We've found a much more pleasant walking route from our new house into the centre of the village which, unlike the present one which takes us on a pavement beside the busy A9, runs through the lower slopes of the forestry below Beinn Bhraggie. At the point where the path emerges from the trees there's a large field which, on today's very wet day, had two occupants....

....visible in the bottom left hand corner of this picture, two....

...roe deer which, at first, stopped eating to watch me but, when I didn't go away, decided....

....that it was prudent to move to the far side of the field, not in any great hurry as they were obviously....

....rather enjoying their breakfast and very annoyed at my interrupting it.

Merlin

Wherever we walk now, be it in the village, along the beaches, across the links, or up into the forestry, the air is full of bird song. In the plantations above our house the most active areas for birds are the margins between the coniferous forestry, which has been largely silent through the winter, and the open scrub-land or land with scattered deciduous cover.

Too often, the birds aren't seen but heard. I say 'too often' because I have never been very good at identifying a bird by its song, and sometimes it's even more frustrating when I find a bird because it's singing, manage to photograph it, but still can't identify it.

Recently, a lady we meet quite frequently on our walks who is also a keen bird-watcher suggested I try an app called Merlin, created by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology. One of the features of the app is to recognise birds by their song. As long as it can clearly pick up the song, the app will produce a record:

....and identify the birds. This particular record identified seven species, including....

....a siskin, in the space of thirty seconds.

Since the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, established in 1915 and based at Cornell University in Ithaca, New York, covers both Europe and North America, it's equally useful on both sides of the 'pond'.

I'm often amazed by modern technology and what people are capable of creating but I have to say that the Merlin app is outstanding.

Loch Lunndhaidh

This morning we walked up the track that runs northwest from Golspie to Loch Lunndaidh, a steady and, for us, fairly exhausting four kilometres but well worth the effort so we could spend....

....a few minutes sitting by the side of the loch listening to a silence broken only by the lap of the wavelets driven by a chilly wind.

To provide water for Golspie the loch's level has been steadily raised over the years by a dam at its southeast end which has recently seen....

....the addition of a footbridge and what appears to be parking areas. I'm not at all sure of the purpose of these as they're on Sutherland Estate land but it may be to offer improved access to the local fishing club which has the rights on the loch.

We had hoped to see an osprey and, perhaps, the year's first wheatear but had to be satisfied with a rather smart meadow pipit and the songs of the skylarks hovering high above us.