What a Build-a-day tour could look like in winter!
The forecast promised a mix of bright spells and wintry showers—a welcome shift from the relentless rain of the past few days.
After breakfast, I made a brief pilgrimage to the woods, eager to spend half an hour in the quiet company of the red squirrels. No sooner had I settled than I heard the soft rustling of paws on crisp, fallen leaves. Three squirrels appeared, each drawn by the nuts I had brought. One, bolder than the rest, asserted its dominance, chasing away any rival that dared encroach while he was feeding. Up close, their delicate frames seemed impossibly light compared to the sturdy bulk of their American grey cousins.
From there, I ventured to an upland loch, its surrounding mountains lightly dusted with snow. The bitter wind bit through my layers, a stark contrast to the sheltered woodland. Along the lochside path there was not a single bird to be seen not even a wren or a gull. Then a golden eagle appeared, gliding effortlessly along the ridge, scanning the heather for red grouse or mountain hare. Further along, another eagle materialised - then another, and another! Four in total, wheeling against the sky. Though all were young, two seemed bonded, staying behind as the others drifted away. Time and again, they reappeared throughout the afternoon, ruling the highland air.
Only after the eagles’ display did the ravens arrive, croaking their disapproval, followed soon by a red kite. A little later, a peregrine cut through the sky, accompanied by a pair of kites, while a kestrel hovered over the moorland on my return walk. The only non-raptor sighting (the raven being an honorary raptor) was a lone red grouse, flushed into sudden flight by one of the eagles.
As dusk crept in, I made my way to the red kite roost. Between passing showers, the sky cleared to reveal a bright half-moon and Venus, appearing as a crescent through the scope. Kites gathered in small clusters, a dozen at a time, spiralling before settling into the treetops. Then a goshawk streaked through on its customary late-evening flypast, scattering the roosting birds into the twilight. Below, a flock of fifty redwings made the most of the fading light, foraging in the field before retreating to the trees. As darkness fell, the roost swelled to over a hundred kites, with more still drifting in, their silhouettes dissolving into the night.
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