Ruth Miller
A Raven mobbing an eagle, a showy Crested Tit and great views of Ptarmigan are just some of the birding joys you could enjoy in the glorious Scottish Highlands
Great birds in the Scottish mountains
Winter holds its grip longer on the Scottish Highlands, making them a very special birdwatching destination at this time of year. It’s more about quality than quantity, so with fewer birds around, every encounter is even more poignant than in the busier months of spring. From our base at the Grant Arms Hotel in Grantown-upon-spey we were leading field trips to some of our favourite birdwatching locations in the Highlands. A short drive from our cosy hotel was Loch an Eilein, a freshwater loch in the middle of the Rothiemurchus Forest. We led our small group on a trail through the Caledonian pine forest, an ancient woodland of gnarled and twisted Scots Pines, descendants of trees that have been rooted here since the Ice Age. With a spongy mattress of pine needles underfoot and a canopy of contorted branches overhead, it felt almost otherworldly, like Middle Earth perhaps. I almost expected to encounter Hobbits as I rounded the bend in the trail, but it wasn’t the sound of Hobbits that caught my ear, but the distinctive rolling trill of a Crested Tit that carried through the still, frosty air. This wickering noise came closer and soon I spotted movement in the pine branches above me: rapid flitting from branch to branch gave away the location of this pocket-sized bird as it poked among the pine cones for food, in this brittle winter-bound forest. At last I had a full view of the Crested Tit and we helped the rest of our group get a good look at this special little bird.
Irresistible pointy head
It was now in the mood to show off for the crowd and everyone excitedly pointed it out to one another. It’s definitely true that a pleasure shared is a pleasure doubled. The bird showed us its fawn belly, brown back, black throat patch and neck collar, but it was the crest that caught your eye, that jaunty tuft on top of its head that gave the bird its
devil-may-care appeal. What is it about pointy-headed birds? They’re simply irresistible. For a complete change of scene, we took our group to another of our favourite locations: the Findhorn Valley, a wild glen south of Inverness. The landscape here is on an immense scale. What starts as a wide, flatbottomed river plain is gradually squeezed between ever-steeper hillsides as the valley carves right into the heart of the mighty Monadhliath range. This is real ‘Monarch of the Glen’ territory, and I spotted a herd of handsome Red Deer grazing on the hillsides. A stag made a perfect silhouette on the skyline as he watched over his hinds. Then we noticed a dark speck in the sky. It was hard to get a sense of scale here; was that a large bird far away or a smaller bird much nearer? It was definitely a raptor and it was heading down the valley straight towards us, so I kept my scope focused on it as the distance closed. We called out directions – against the dark cloud, now past the lighter patch, now over the triangle rock on the skyline – and our group watched it take shape as it approached. It had a distinctive long-winged, long-tailed outline and through the scope I could see the diagnostic white wing patches: a juvenile Golden Eagle! To confirm the point, a Raven came into view, no small bird itself but, size-wise, a Golden Eagle could easily tuck a Raven under each wing. The Raven mobbed the eagle briefly, David tackling Goliath, but with one short flap of its wings, the Golden Eagle left the corvid way behind and continued its majestic cruise down the valley towards us, passing directly overhead. We could see every detail of this magnificent bird of prey, a privilege to have such a close encounter. I’m sure it was aware of us but probably disregarded us as completely insignificant. Then with another lazy wing-flap it disappeared over the ridge, and I was left with just the image burned into my memory. A heart-pounding, jump-up-and-down-andsqueal-with-excitement sighting of arguably Britain’s most charismatic raptor; so it was high-fives and whoops all round as we congratulated ourselves, excitedly, on this unforgettable encounter.
A rock that moved!
Next, we went up in altitude and let the train take the strain to the top of Cairngorm Mountain. We headed straight for the viewing platform outside the aptly-named Ptarmigan Restaurant and, now swathed in more warm layers, I set up my scope and started to scan the mountainside. It was still covered with snow and speckled with grey granite boulders. I was looking for a bird that would be white and grey, halfway between its winter and summer plumage; this wasn’t going to be easy. I decided to scan methodically from left to right along the top of the ridge, but nothing. Then I scanned the lower slopes from right to left. Wait a minute! Surely that rock just moved. I zoomed in the scope to maximum magnification and sure enough, one rock was now showing a head and legs and was slowly shuffling forwards. It was a Ptarmigan, a dumpy gamebird perfectly adapted to life on the mountain. As if it knew it had been spotted, the Ptarmigan froze to become a rock again, but that didn’t fool me. Taking turns to look through the scope, our group soaked up the views of this perfectly-camouflaged bird. What a thrill! With our target bird in the bag, it was now time for a celebratory Mountain Hot Chocolate inside the Ptarmigan Café. It was late afternoon but already the light levels were dropping while temperatures plummeted. Time to head back to our lovely hotel with its extensive whisky menu in the bar and it was with a well-earned dram of single malt in my hand that I totted up our list of exciting Scottish Highland birds. What a day!
Biggest Twitch: birdwatchingtrips.co.uk