Island of birds

[shewhomust]

Our first visit to Inner Farne spoiled us for birdwatching - and in particular for puffin-watching. Last year at midsummer we took the boat to the Farnes, but chose to visit Longstone instead, reasoning that we would shortly be seeing lots of puffins in Iceland. Which is not how it turned out: we saw some puffins, certainly, but nothing like as many or as close as we had on Inner Farne. Even at Sumburgh Head, the southern tip of Shetland, where you look over a dry stone wall at the puffins on the cliff top on the other side, you are - oh, several feet away. So yesterday we repeated the boat trip back to Inner Farne, where this elegant fellow peered out of his burrow at us from very nearly underfoot, just the other side of a knee high rope fence.

Mostly, though, it was less about the puffins than about the arctic terns. The black headed gulls (I think; they were gulls, and they had black heads, but I'm not good at identifying gulls, so don't take my word for it) were diving at the puffins as they returned to the burrow with food for their chicks - the idea was clearly to make the puffins drop what they were carrying (mostly sand eels) and then grab it. As a result the puffins were scurrying about madly in all directions, and weren't their usual cooperative selves when it came to posing for photos.

The terns, on the other hand, knew no fear. The National Trust has a notice board at the harbour in Seahouses which warns you that the chicks are hatching and may stray into the path, so take care where you step; so you might be concerned that so many people walking so close to the nest would distress the birds. But it doesn't seem to have any adverse effect. The terns keep up a constant alarm call, shrill cries and a clicking noise like pebbles being knocked together, which is quite deafening. But they carry on fetching food and feeding their young, regardless. I watched this father flying in, and mother watch while the chick gulped down a fishy treat which was maybe a third as long as he was.

Futher up the path, a group of photographers - serious photographers, with serious lenses - were being distracted by this tern who had moved in to supervise their work, and stayed long enough for them to change angle and get the shot.

I'm warming to arctic terns. Our first encounter with them, many years ago, was on the Orkney island of Papa Westray: we'd strayed onto their breeding ground, and they saw us off with their usual ferocity. Those needle-sharp red beaks are fearsome weapons. But the chicks are ridiculously cute, the same frecked brown as the eggs they hatch from, but so fluffy! And the adults are so graceful, I see why they are referred to as 'sea swallows'. They are so gleaming white and graceful, even when they are escorting you out of their territory with extreme prejudice: it's an honour to be attacked by them.

Comments

[shewhomust.livejournal.com]

Thank you.