Squirrel Hoarding Time

We 'enjoyed' a rather cool, grey day yesterday, not ideal conditions for photographing squirrels going about their autumn business - which means, mostly, collecting and hiding nuts. This one, pictured from our kitchen window, spent some time trying to get at the peanuts which were in the white plastic tube, a contraption invented to provide peanuts exclusively to the tit tribe.

What the squirrel failed to work out was that it had spent some time sitting on the contraption designed exclusively for our red squirrel population, so that they can see the food through the plastic window at the front and then access it by lifting the lid.... which it's sitting on. Maybe at some point it'll work it out.

A little deeper in the forestry we came across this squirrel which was furious that it had been disturbed while going about it's business which - look closely - is to take some hazel nuts from a commercially-made feeder very similar to mine and carry them off for burial somewhere, hopefully, which it'll remember in deep, dark winter.

There are various statistics on the internet which suggest that squirrels forget the location of over 50% of the nuts they bury. This may be good for the trees which grow as a result but it's pretty tough on the squirrels particularly when another statistic suggests that the average squirrel buries over 3,000 nuts each season: that's a minimum of 1,500 lost nuts.

A Step Too Far - 2

We've walked this track many times in the past, in a past when we had a little more energy than we have today, but the temptation was to try it again, because the track leads on to an area which is full of both interest and special memories. But caution and our ages demand that we think carefully about walks which, if something were to go wrong, would mean we'd need help - and the last thing either of us would want to do is to have to call out the emergency services.

On the other hand, if we didn't walk that track in such perfect conditions, then the chances of doing it in the future would be much lower.

But.... But the temptation was there, the day was still beautiful, and we knew that most of the return walk was downhill with the light breeze behind us. So we set off.

We passed the wooden signpost which is probably noticed by few people today, with its views across to Loch Fleet, and, to the right, the hill called Silver Rock which, because it must have superb views from its summit, we had always planned to climb.

This is where we were heading for, Loch Lunndaidh, one of the main sources of water for the area - hence the weir over which pours....

....water the colour of whisky. This may be why the ancient clachan (village) whose remains can still be found if one had the energy to walk another mile to the far end of the loch, was reputed to produce the finest illicit whisky in the Golspie area.

This still would probably have been hidden in one of the small glens whose waters flow into the loch. Having found these stills before on Ardnamurchan, I know what to look for - but I no longer have the legs to scramble over the hills in search of it.

However, what I would most have liked to achieve on yesterday's walk was something which, had it so wished, would have come to me - the kingfisher I have seen just once, near the weir, back in July of last year.

Needless to say, it didn't put in an appearance, but what is heartening is the news that kingfishers have since been spotted on Loch Fleet and Loch Brora - so perhaps the species is beginning to thrive here enough to extend its range north.

So we turned back, but with a sense of achievement, and with the knowledge that, given the right conditions, we could do this walk again.

A Step Too Far - 1

I like to have some sort of objective in mind when I set out on a walk so, with the weather promising some sunshine after the miseries of yesterday - this is the A9 just after 9.00 yesterday morning - we embarked on what in the old days might have been called a 'nature ramble' - just a gentle wander looking for anything of interest, and....

....this track which leads up into the forestry and then on into more open moorland a mile on, is ideal for the purpose.

It was a typical fine autumn morning, chilly, with the leaves sparkling with last night's rain, and all sorts of things to find including....

....masses of berries on almost all the rowans, something which is supposed to herald a hard winter....

....and plenty of fungi including some fly agaric which the slugs and snails had yet to find, and....

....several groups of puffballs. Then there were what I take to be....

....the seed heads of bog asphodel, glowing in the low-angled sun.

Then there was the heather family. This is cross-leaved heath which has been flowering all summer, with....

....bell heather enjoying only a slightly shorter season - but what was noticeable was that the flowers of the ling, which are usually at their best in early September and then die off through into October, were absent, perhaps because conditions at the time of their flowering were either too dry or - and this is a possibility - rather too wet.

So we wandered until we came to this gate, which suddenly opened up the possibility of walking much further along the track to somewhere we hadn't been in ages.

Sparrowhawk

I think we last saw a sparrowhawk in the garden back in August so we were very pleased yesterday evening when one landed on a fence from where it had a good view across both our and our neighbour's gardens.

However, the hawk didn't stay long, probably because, in my anxiety to take a picture, I disturbed it.

We've noticed in previous years that the small birds, like this juvenile goldfinch and....

....this very smart adult, seem to disappear at this time of year, perhaps because there is plenty to eat in the surrounding forestry and fields, so the generous portions of seeds, peanuts and fats we put out are largely ignored. That the birds aren't being drawn in must make it harder for the sparrowhawks to catch their prey.

For several weeks now we've been growing accustomed to the skeins of geese flying back and forth along the coast, and heard the cacophony of noise as these hundreds of birds settle in the fields by the golf course to feed. These have been pink-footed geese but in the last few days we've noticed different calls, those of....

....greylag geese, most of them heading determinedly south.

Late-Season Butterflies - and a Moth

We've been basking in the sort of weather which is usually associated with high summer - so, well into October, we've been sitting out on the terrace and walking in to the village in bright sunshine.

Celebrating with us have been a few late butterflies, a couple of red admirals and.... 

....these two beautiful painted ladies, the one on the right demonstrating the intricate patterns on the underwing which are so rarely visible.

Unfortunately, we've also had a couple of whites in the garden. I know that one of them was a large white because of the caterpillars I found, but some of the caterpillars were much smaller and uniformly green, showing that we have also been visited by a small white or two. Needless to say, all the caterpillars were on my precious broccoli.

Then, this morning, we had a visit from this day-flying moth, a silver Y, the first I've seen this year, which spent quite some time in the garden enjoying the many verbena flowers.

The Rest

I'm lying on a sweaty sheet on my bed in the bedroom which my brother Richard and I share in the big African Mercantile manager's house at the end of Cliff Avenue in Mombasa. I'm almost naked but I've got a kikoi ready in the unlikely event that someone creeps up the stairs and comes in.

It's about two in the afternoon and outside the crickets are screaming in the heat, the only sound except the occasional breath of air which stirs the pile of dry leaves below our window, and the ever-present, distant boom of the great ocean waves breaking across the Andromache reef.

My mother's asleep in my parent's bedroom and my father has gone back to the office after a short rest - a siesta, you'd call it - in the big armchair at the bottom the stairs, and as soon as he heard the Rover backing out of the drive Richard followed him. He has a rendezvous with some friends - he hasn't told me who and since his friends are very largely the same as mine I am a little surprised that he hasn't told me. I could have gone with him but if he wants a little time to himself, that's fine - because I do too.

It's late September 1961 and we're close to the end of what we've just been told is going to be the last summer holiday in Mombasa as my father has taken early retirement and will be retuning to England by ship while my much more adventurous mother is travelling - alone - the whole way down the Nile from Lake Victoria to Cairo. So this time the tears and rage that Richard and I usually express as the holidays draw to a close are a waste of time. If I am to stay here in Mombasa I'll have to find a job and my own accommodation, all this against the compulsory Africanisation of jobs that an independent Kenya will bring in following Uhuru, Freedom, due in 1963.

I suppose all I really want to do is to go through my options one more time -  a waste of precious holiday, really - and start to come to terms with what my future holds: a return to Bradfield, where I'll be a house prefect; I've already collected three 'A' levels so I'll be doing a couple of 'S' levels - but mostly I'm staying on in the hope I'll be made a school prefect. Then, I suppose, I'll be choosing a course and a university - but of one thing I am absolutely determined: once I'm qualified in something which the country needs I'm coming back to Kenya, one day, sooner later; and I'm going to make my home in Mombasa and then spend the rest of my life here.

Of course, life never turns out how you plan it but, hey!, it's been good.

Autumn Wildflowers

Today's walk, in sunny but blustery conditions, took us through Specked Wood where, despite the dappled shade under the trees which might have encouraged them out, there was no sign of any speckled wood butterflies. By comparison with most other butterfly species the speckled wood has done fairly well here this year.

Many of the trees are now shedding their leaves, led by the rowans, some of which are almost bare-branched already, and most of which have a good crop of berries.

Look carefully and some of summer's flowers. are still to be found. This is a little flower, not more than 15mm across, which is a favourite of mine. It goes under the odd name of tormentil and is unusual in that it has only four petals.

Also, surprisingly, in bloom amongst the tangled grasses is....

....heath milkwort. This was the only one that I could find which was still in flower.

Devil's-bit scabious is still in bloom along the damper edges of some of the tracks as are....

....the last of the foxgloves.

Last, but by no means least, a few remaining daisies are in flower, this bloom all alone in our back garden.