Deer flowing across landscape – the most majestic of animals
BURSTING through the heather, tussocky grass and mosses is a fairly good description of how the red deer we saw last week moved across the wonderfully named Flow Country of Caithness and Sutherland.
The Flow refers to the water which predominates this ancient landscape of bogs, lakes and riverlets, but is also how the deer move once the initial burst into action has taken place. We saw three, 10 and then 15, including the sentinel, rutting stags, with their hinds in tow. First they stop what they are doing and look directly at you, and depending how close you are, the ‘burst’ - based on the distance of the perceived threat - takes place, before they stop again. As though being poured slowly from a bottle, they literally flow through the landscape, a timeless vision.
The Victorian painter Landseer named the red deer stag the Monarch of the Glen, and, as well as the golden eagle, we saw four. This is pretty majestic in its own right – and his non de plume is well deserved.
The two heavyweights of land and sky are joined by some of the rarest birds in this area, and the RSPB’s northernmost reserve, Forsinard, is the place to fill your boots.
The Dubh Lochan Trail gives a short but fascinating introduction to the Forsinard Flows National Nature Reserve. The trail crosses the blanket bog on flagstones, giving a chance to explore this remarkable wild landscape and habitat, rich with bird, flower and insect life depending on what time of year you visit.
There are also whooper swans from high in Iceland. We saw hundreds, as well as greenshank and occasionally the enigmatic and hyper-rare British breeding wader the red necked phalarope.
These small, delicate waders are adapted well to spending a lot of time on water. Unlike other waders, phalaropes have lobed toes which enable them to swim strongly when on pools or out at sea. They spend most of their time in the water but can equally run about on land. The duller-coloured male looks after the eggs and young after laying. As a rare UK breeding species it is a Red List bird.
Forsinard is also a nailed-on certainty for red deer. On the day, most of our sightings were from a distance, and you need good eyes to pick them out against the cryptic backdrop, as chameleonlike they vanish into their surroundings. Although we did spot them, the photographs I managed were nothing to write home about - in the bird world what’s known as ‘record shots.’
After one such attempt, with me using the car bonnet to steady the camera, we set off for Durness, on the left at the very top of Scotland when you look at a map. It’s a place of white strands, stormy seas, Smoo Cave and, if you’re lucky, a pod of killer whale regulars.
After a further five minutes, with the camera beneath my seat, my daughter Niamh shouted matter of factly, with a hint of smugness because she had seen them first, “Dad, there’s some deer”.
I looked to the right, expecting to see the animals in the distance, but to my delight they were that close to the side of the road I was able to fill the frame and grab this picture of a young stag and his hind before switching to multi exposures to record the ‘flow’ in action.
Chuffed? Yes I was, and I could have gone home then, job done, and all from the comfort of a warm car.
Believe me, this does not happen very often, and the event was rightly toasted with some mighty fine local malt, The Old Pulteney distilled in Wick, when we arrived back at the Keiss Harbour House.
I assumed the position near a seaward-window, binoculars, camera, whisky and cold haggis, and proceeded to raise a glass to a fine day – and the adult grey seal which popped up in the harbour with impeccable timing.