Thank you one and all - sorry for the delay, had a fairly busy Easter of which more later! In the meantime, onwards through Scotland.
I was woken from a deep sleep by others moving around, which meant no guilt about getting up and waking anyone else. Considering there were four independent people with differing morning routines we got sorted and on the road fairly quickly: Clare had managed to spot a Red Squirrel in the back garden while all this was going on and before we left I put up my trailcam facing a birch tree which suddenly and very unexpectedly bloomed peanut butter and a peeled hard-boiled egg.
First stop was Loch Garten RSPB car park. The reserve centre was shut and there was a firm but fair notice forbidding access to the Osprey centre up the track as birds were already in the area and they prefer to give them total peace to settle in. No matter: we arrived to find photographers already seated in deckchairs with lenses trained on a variety of mounted sticks with lovely lichen, moss, peeling bark and peanut butter. The trunks of one Scots Pine and one Birch had received the same treatment and the area looked like the bird equivalent of the Tesco's lager aisle the morning before the final of the Champions' League.
There were many Chaffinches, overwhelmingly smart breeding plumaged males with only a couple of dowdy females: Great and Blue Tits, but the Parids mostly represented by hordes of lightning-fast Coal Tits: occasional visits from the hulking form of a Great Spotted Woodpecker and best of all, within a few minutes our first of numerous visits from that Highland speciality the Crested Tit.
It was, as the previous morning, overcast, and the light could have been better, but we rattled away with the cameras and seemed to be getting some decent results despite the additional hazard and obscuration provided by a smoking tog in the front row. More than slightly inconsiderate to fellow-birders and wildlife alike, I should say....
We could hear Pink-feet going over in the mist, we had a few fly-over Crossbills of indeterminate but presumably Common types - certainly the calls were light jips, not bass jups or joops (I've often thought the last must be Yorkshire or Lancashire Crossbills - joop joop, lad), though I refuse to subscribe to the madness of types A to ZZZ, or low A flat to high G sharp or whatever the current Crossbill piffle is. Siskins were likewise elusive, which rendered our lack of access to the centre more frustrating as normally there are dozens at the gigantic drainpipe peanut feeder there.
Gradually the cloud began to thin and a touch of warmth suggested it would break up - perhaps already had in the mountains? We went to find out, pausing at Carrbridge to look for Dippers but seeing only a Sparrowhawk that may have explained why they were keeping a low profile.
On a windless - literally windless, that rare day in the Highlands - sunny day with a dome of blue from ridgeline to ridgeline, the place to go near Speyside is the headwaters of the Findhorn, up along a single track road that wends its way through pine woods and scrubby juniper and open grassy hillside shot with scree, one minute at river level the next tiptoeing along a hundred or more feet above it before descending to the flat floor of the U-shaped valley where it forks and finishing at a public car park (small - ten vehicles parked well, or four or five scattered carelessly) just shy of Coignafearn Lodge.
The Findhorn Valley holds Golden Eagles and offers a reasonable chance of White-tailed as immatures seem to choose it as a good place to hang out for carrion as they grow up. It has Peregrines, often Merlins, Kestrels and Buzzards in plenty, Ravens croaking their way across the sky and also all three of Britain's Lagomorphs. I've had Rabbit, Brown Hare and Mountain Hare all in the bins at once in the past. There are large herds of Red Deer and small numbers of Sika - the latter stick to the low ground and woods while the Reds head up onto the bare hills each day and overnight in the valley floor. There is also a colony of feral goats, shaggy mad-eyed beasts not afraid to square up to a Red Stag and more than capable of butting a troll off a bridge. No easy meals here.... I like the goats, and look forward each year to recognising individuals from their multi-coloured coat patterns.
On this particular day the Red Deer were miles away up the hills and unfortunately so were the Feral Goats: fortunately Clare spotted the latter when they poked their heads above the ridge as they fed high on the North side, or we might have missed them altogether.
Raptor-wise we had to wait for the real excitement, though a Marsh Harrier tracking East along the North ridge made for an interesting sighting. It was followed after a long fallow period (apart from a Small Tortoiseshell butterfly that made for a most unexpected year-tick) by an adult female Peregrine that emerged over the same ridge and circled for a while before setting off across the valley. Close and distant Buzzards flattered to deceive, but we were not going to be fooled by Tourist Eagles.
Finally a minibus of tour-guided birders drew up and began to disgorge its contents at some speed, as the guide/driver asked if we'd seen the bird against the opposite slope. We hadn't, but as it in turn emerged above the Southern ridge the yell of identification was immediate and definite: a huge immature Golden Eagle casually soared out over the valley and began to circle up, offering excellent views not quite into the sun.
After a few circles, as it rose on the thermal and Steve desperately struggled with a 1.4 converter that thought this was a good moment to refuse to lock onto his 500mm lens, the bird was assaulted by the big female Peregrine. Frankly it didn't take much notice, rolling slightly to present a talon to it but otherwise continuing to circle up. Having rattled off a few shots myself and unwilling to see Steve cast either himself or his camera into the torrent, I intervened and luckily the recalcitrant converter decided discretion was the better part of valour and locked on properly under my fingers. Steve opened fire and I returned to my own shooting.
Eventually the eagle reached the top of its thermal and glided away into the hills. We hung on for a while but it didn't return, and by now we had interrogated the guided group who had seen two more Goldies and a White-tailed Eagle near the Farr Road junction further down the valley. We went in search but of course the eagles were long gone. Amazing how these big birds can disappear so easily into the landscape, especially when they spend much of their time high above it. Patience is needed - after four hours in the valley we had got the benefit of that!
With the afternoon going but the sun still beating down (I was quite worried I might have got burnt, as my skin is fair and vulnerable and I had actually ejected sunblock from my luggage - doh!) I suggested a walk in the woods to look for more Crested Tits and perhaps some Crossbills. We followed a nice forest track through fairly decent pine woodland and had the sound of a few Crested Tits buzzing in the distance, but from the movement of the calls the birds were rocketing around the forest and pretty much uncatchable. What we needed was to blunder into birds, and the fact that we had done this was announced with a great crash as of falling timber, followed by the awe-inspiring sight of a mighty male Capercaillie, perfectly lit by bright sunshine behind us, rowing itself through the air across the clearing we were passing to disappear all too soon into the thickest woodland. Nobody reached for a camera or even bins, we just enjoyed the privilege of seeing rather more than just a retreating Caper backside.
Inwardly warmed by this magnificent sight we returned to the car after further fruitless Crestie listening along the track and finished the day with a brief visit to the Cairngorm car park (nothing) and Loch Morlich, where a single adult Whooper Swan lingered, up-ending to feed distantly under the eaves of the mountains. Half a dozen Goldeneye made up numbers but declined to give close views.
We took the easy option of dinner at La Taverna opposite the bottom of the ski road and retired fairly early. My trailcam had caught a Red Squirrel bounding up the birch tree - nice.
John