Summertime
No Maypole dancing nor strange mediaeval rites, unless birding and moth-ing count as the latter. Maybe having to wash my hair in the kitchen sink is as near to mediaeval as I get.
After emptying the moth trap, more species than the previous night including another Early Shoulder Stripe, in better condition, two Brindled Beauties and a Red Swordgrass. The latter is not local here but not found in Norfolk.
Ian and Sue came round to see it in the evening.
Ian and Sue came round to see it in the evening.
As we reversed out of our parking spot, a large 4x4 slowed and stopped. We drew up alongside and, yes, it was Mike the moth recorder. We exchanged pleasantries and drove on. He had a Kentish Glory in his garden yesterday but failed to net it in the strong wind.
It was a glorious morning and the day only got better. It was 17C mid afternoon. Warm sunshine, little wind, a few white clouds, all showing the Findhorn Valley in its full splendour.
It starts as a shallow wide river valley, with gorse and tree lined road. It gradually becomes ever narrower, the sides ever more mountainous, the river a tumultuous boulder strewn mountain torrent. The valley sides barren apart from ancient, gnarled, bare apart from tufts of hanging Spanish moss and lichen covered branches and trunk.
Driving through the lower stretches, two Golden Eagles took advantage of the morning thermals to soar along the ridge. Soon after, two Sparrowhawks performed their mating dance, the female obviously larger, followed by a Peregrine hassling a Buzzard. Good viewing. Pam later saw another Goldie.
Years ago, a Common Tern used to nest on some stones in the river, near Coignafearn bridge. We haven't seen them for years. To-day, one flew up the river, over the bridge and up the side tributary, out of sight. They've moved sites.
We don't drive quite as far as the end car park, we stop at a grassy pull-off shortly before, from which we have an elevated viewpoint and a better field of view of several valleys. We sat for an hour or so loving the view whilst searching the mountainsides.
Disappointing, no hairy smelliness wild goats anywhere. I've grown to expect them. We did find a herd of Red Deer on the way down, high above us at the edge of a wood. Farmed I'm sure but, good to see. At least they're living as wild.
The Farr Road is a steep climb to extensive rolling moorland. A narrow one lane pot-holed track, with passing places, through degraded heather, rough tussocky grass, a deep valley showing occasionally below. It's beloved of bikers, none to-day though many more parked off road, cars, than we've seen before, passengers sitting out enjoying the sunshine. We saw Tree Pipit at the start of the road, one Red Grouse towards the end.
About halfway along, vigorously waving hands alerted us to the presence of Sue and Ian. We stopped and talked. They'd been to the Black Isle and Ruthven and seen the grebes.
Lunch was eaten in Ruthven car park. With the windows open. Pam's favourite foods and drinks are all smelly. Red Bull or its eqivalent, Coke, Beer. Cheddar with caramelised onion this week.
Between the trees, I saw two dark blobs in the loch. By the time Pam had got the scope up, they'd disappeared. I'm sure they were the grebes, I've seen them at this end before.
We plodded along th track as far as the tiny patch of sand and boulders just after the boathouse. The woodland track to the hide is too rough for my knees at the moment. Very quickly, I put up my scope as I could see activity in the middle of the loch, at the same level as we were sitting. I then had my best views and experience ever of a pair of beautiful Slavonian Grebes going through their mating ritual. She lay on a stone, neck stretched out for what seemed like ages. He swam about her, hesitating at her rear, before repeating the ritual, ear tufts raised the whole time. I kept telling him to get on with it. Eventually they copulating (I think, as he ended up on her neck), re-entered the water, flashing their fiery golden ear tufts at each other the whole while, swimming in a circle and then separating. All seen through my scope. I didn't have my camera because I took the scope. Right decision? Not sure, but I had great views.
Via our usual ice-cream stop, where Pam always buys used books, we made our way back to Carrbridge. Nothing on the river, we drove Station Road for old times sake. No Golden Plover, the weather's too good, they've flown through.
Boat of Garten, Spey Bridge was worth a look. A pair of Goosander, five Goldeneye and a Dipper. The latter is a speciality of Pam's, she's brilliant at finding them.
Another no sign of Crested Tit hour in Loch Garten car park, apart from that, most enjoyable. Watching Siskin, Chaffinches, Coal Tit and Great Spotted Woodpecker going about their daily existence.
We plan to go up Cairngorm on the funicular to-morrow, fingers crossed for more good weather.
It was a glorious morning and the day only got better. It was 17C mid afternoon. Warm sunshine, little wind, a few white clouds, all showing the Findhorn Valley in its full splendour.
It starts as a shallow wide river valley, with gorse and tree lined road. It gradually becomes ever narrower, the sides ever more mountainous, the river a tumultuous boulder strewn mountain torrent. The valley sides barren apart from ancient, gnarled, bare apart from tufts of hanging Spanish moss and lichen covered branches and trunk.
Driving through the lower stretches, two Golden Eagles took advantage of the morning thermals to soar along the ridge. Soon after, two Sparrowhawks performed their mating dance, the female obviously larger, followed by a Peregrine hassling a Buzzard. Good viewing. Pam later saw another Goldie.
Years ago, a Common Tern used to nest on some stones in the river, near Coignafearn bridge. We haven't seen them for years. To-day, one flew up the river, over the bridge and up the side tributary, out of sight. They've moved sites.
We don't drive quite as far as the end car park, we stop at a grassy pull-off shortly before, from which we have an elevated viewpoint and a better field of view of several valleys. We sat for an hour or so loving the view whilst searching the mountainsides.
Disappointing, no hairy smelliness wild goats anywhere. I've grown to expect them. We did find a herd of Red Deer on the way down, high above us at the edge of a wood. Farmed I'm sure but, good to see. At least they're living as wild.
The Farr Road is a steep climb to extensive rolling moorland. A narrow one lane pot-holed track, with passing places, through degraded heather, rough tussocky grass, a deep valley showing occasionally below. It's beloved of bikers, none to-day though many more parked off road, cars, than we've seen before, passengers sitting out enjoying the sunshine. We saw Tree Pipit at the start of the road, one Red Grouse towards the end.
About halfway along, vigorously waving hands alerted us to the presence of Sue and Ian. We stopped and talked. They'd been to the Black Isle and Ruthven and seen the grebes.
Lunch was eaten in Ruthven car park. With the windows open. Pam's favourite foods and drinks are all smelly. Red Bull or its eqivalent, Coke, Beer. Cheddar with caramelised onion this week.
Between the trees, I saw two dark blobs in the loch. By the time Pam had got the scope up, they'd disappeared. I'm sure they were the grebes, I've seen them at this end before.
We plodded along th track as far as the tiny patch of sand and boulders just after the boathouse. The woodland track to the hide is too rough for my knees at the moment. Very quickly, I put up my scope as I could see activity in the middle of the loch, at the same level as we were sitting. I then had my best views and experience ever of a pair of beautiful Slavonian Grebes going through their mating ritual. She lay on a stone, neck stretched out for what seemed like ages. He swam about her, hesitating at her rear, before repeating the ritual, ear tufts raised the whole time. I kept telling him to get on with it. Eventually they copulating (I think, as he ended up on her neck), re-entered the water, flashing their fiery golden ear tufts at each other the whole while, swimming in a circle and then separating. All seen through my scope. I didn't have my camera because I took the scope. Right decision? Not sure, but I had great views.
Via our usual ice-cream stop, where Pam always buys used books, we made our way back to Carrbridge. Nothing on the river, we drove Station Road for old times sake. No Golden Plover, the weather's too good, they've flown through.
Boat of Garten, Spey Bridge was worth a look. A pair of Goosander, five Goldeneye and a Dipper. The latter is a speciality of Pam's, she's brilliant at finding them.
Another no sign of Crested Tit hour in Loch Garten car park, apart from that, most enjoyable. Watching Siskin, Chaffinches, Coal Tit and Great Spotted Woodpecker going about their daily existence.
We plan to go up Cairngorm on the funicular to-morrow, fingers crossed for more good weather.
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