Friday
9th September Fresh SE-S cool, high cloud, Ward Hill has
low cloud over it. AM. Fog rolls in and leaves by Noon.
A
bonxie is watching me carefully as I approach the Gully. Maybe they
aren't as aggressive at this time of year yet I still duck as it
decides to torpedo me. There has been heavy rain overnight and the
Gully's waterfalls are somewhat larger than usual.
I
walk the Parks area and explore each croft's gardens as I head south.
Wheatear on posts and a whinchat in Burkle are the most prominent
birds.
Ward
Hill has been covered with hill fog and this descends and covers the
island with a thick blanket for a couple of hours.
In
the afternoon I go into the island's museum and spend an hour or so
going through photograph albums finding photographs of my late friend
Gordon Barnes and his wife Perry. I also read up on all of the Fair
Isle men who died in the World Wars.
On
leaving the museum I bump into Lee Gregory, one of the assistant
wardens and together we bird the south.
Sitting
together on the bench at Schoolton a whinchat perches atop some
twigs. It looks rather cold and pale and I call it a Siberian whinchat,
a sort of joke if one thinks of the plumage on a Siberian stonechat.
(Later
today Lee sends me a photograph of this bird on fcebook calling it
such and giving it a Latin name of Saxicola prescottius.
Lee
is a brilliant birder and he soon spots an interesting lesser
black-backed gull, an intermedius sub-species.
It's mantle is as black as the nearby Greater Black backed gulls yet
it is smaller and has yellow legs. My excuse at not having spotted it
is that to me it is hidden behind a sheep. Pretty lame excuse.
A
tree pipit is on Tommy's garden wall at Da Haa.
The
red-throated diver is in its usual position near to the beach.
Moving
back up the island Lee goes off to the east as I go back to the Kirk
to collect my bike.
Earlier
on I had met Nick Riddiford near there at Da Water. He told me that
he had seen a moorhen there with the young tufted duck. Returning now
there is a moorhen tucked into the grass adjacent to the open water.
I can't make out much of it but from the black blob I can see I
presume it to be an adult.
On
the way back to the Fair Isle Bird Observatory Lee and I meet up
again but only until Lee sees a fulmar that has lost it's way. A
fulmar shouldn't be walking down the middle of a Fair Isle road. Lee
takes it back to the sea.
Saturday
10th
September Strong SW No cloud AM, sunny intervals PM
On
this date last year Fair Isle had yellow-browed warblers and other
such birding goodies. Today the island seems relatively bare of such.
The early morning trap run catches five birds; three rock pipits, a
meadow pipit and a willow warbler. What migrants await?
By
end of day I have seen a reasonable number of Lapland buntings,
around fourteen, a couple of swallows, three golden plover and not a
lot else. The island has looked beautiful though and it has been a
plasure to photograph crofts and landscapes.
Birds
are going to come soon but we need the wind to change.
Sunday
11th
September light to fresh S very sunny AM, deteriorating
through the day to rain by early evening.
Still
no new birds around my patch, Pund to start the day. There are four
Lapland buntings though by the road near Setter as I walk to the
Observatory for breakfast. Three more Laplands are by the Plantation.
The
Observatory garden has a willow warbler and twice it's size, an
icterine warbler.
The
weather is fine and I decide to bird the bracken patches on the
moorland north of the island's airstrip and head towards the geos
from there.
Snipe
come out of each bracken patch, four and three and bonxies 'ork' and
come close, sometimes too close. Duck time again!
The
geos look splendid in the sunshine, cuts onto the cliff with steep
inclines and rocky ledges of various heights, depths and appearances.
The trick I have been told and indeed read about with Bill Oddie's
advise in one of his books, is to sit and wait. I do so at each geo
in turn. An hour or so later I have seen just a single goldcrest.
That was in Tyneside, a favourite geo. Today I don't recognise it and
am a little distracted. In fact I feel rather lost and it's only with
the help of Lee Gregory who is doing the North census route that I
reorientate myself.
Lee
leaves for lunch and I head down a geo following a sheep track deep
down into the geo, South Gunnerwark. There is a metal rope attached
to rocks to provide some security that leads the way down to a ledge
where I stop and watch beaches to left and right with dreams of an
American warbler.
Returning
to the grasslands near to Pund I receive a text from The Oracle.
Rosefinch on Fair Isle? I
haven't been told of one so I phone Lee Gregory. He hasn't heard of
one either yet apparently it is out there on Rare Bird Alert.
A
few minutes later Lee phones me back. Cairan has seen a common
rosefinch by the South Lighthouse. I head that way.
I
search the crop at Skaden. I search the fenced off area at Muckle Uri
geo but I can't find a rosefinch. There are twite and meadow pipits
but that's all.
I
head off to search all of the nearby croft gardens.
Later
in the afternoon as rain starts to fall I walk to the Observatory and
on reaching it meet Suzanne Parnaby who tells me that Ciaran has had
the rosefinch again. Only one thing for it, I get on my bike and
cycle south in the rain and the wind.
I
meet Ciaron just south of Shirva and he tells me that he only saw it
fly over. I decide that my chances of finding it in the murk and rain
are slim at most. I head off for my bed.
Monday
12th
September Very strong SE gale very sunny
It
has rained heavily overnight. Albert, the albatross on the front of
my bike is sodden yet Oscar the Otter looks chipper. To the Obs for
breakfast the gale propels me there at speed, scary speed as I go
downhill from Setter.
A
willow warbler is on the grass near to the lounge window and
yesterday's icterine warbler seems to have decided to stay another
day.
I
walk down to the harbour and clear the plastic bottles and long piece
of rope from the gale-battered beach. Five arctic terns are in the
shelter of North Haven and it is delightful when I come around a
large container by the wall of th harbour and come acropss two
goldcrests at my feet. Here come the migrants, these are the
harbingers of things to come, lost waifs weighing less than an ice
cream wafer each.
With
spray coming over the cliffs of Buness I make my way to the Obs for a
day of music and emails.
