Monikie’s sound of sea the

Keith is entranced by cormorants in trees, and goldeneyes and wigeon bobbing out on the icy water in the Angus Country Park

Icould have been down by the sea, such was the calibre of this harsh “cronking” – the kind of call one might expect to hear by a coastal cliff or on a remote guano-covered marine island.

But this was neither, for instead I was at Monikie Country Park and the seabird-like tones were emanating from a small group of cormorants perched in a tree on an islet in one of the reservoirs.

Cormorants are such adaptable birds and this well-stocked former reservoir in Angus, with its safe little islands to rest and socialise, provided the perfect wintering place.

Indeed, the southern fringe of the reservoir is on an elevated position that enables a clear view down to the outer Firth of Tay, providing the cormorants with an easy flight-line to commute back and forth between freshwater and sea on a regular basis.

Cormorants are almost prehistoric in appearance, which doesn’t lend any favours when it comes to human perception. They have traditionally been associated with evil and greed since the earliest of times, with the name cormorant derived from the Latin for sea raven – another bird that has long been treated with suspicion.

They are also detested by many freshwater fishery managers and anglers. A shame really, and I suspect much of this is simply down to the way they appear, for numerous other types of birds eat fish yet don’t attract the same animosity.

I had never visited Monikie before and the variety of waterfowl out on the water was impressive, despite the shallow fringes being coated in clinking ice, which made foraging difficult. There were goldeneye ducks riding the water, roll-diving every so often, and wigeon were about too, the drakes so attractive with their pastel-hued plumage of pink flushed breast, silvery-grey body and rusty head.

In among the drakes were female wigeons, delicate in form with their benign faces. Female ducks often get overlooked because they are less colourful than drakes. But that dowdy appearance is all down to necessity, with the brown cryptic plumage a vital aid to survival when incubating eggs or looking after ducklings.

By the shore edge, I inadvertently startle a moorhen, which flicks its white tail feathers in nervous agitation before calming down once more to resume feeding. As it treads away, the impossibly long toes are almost comical in appearance.

And just as how the brown plumage of a female duck is a tool for survival, then so too is the moorhen’s expansive feet, essential for spreading the weight when walking upon floating water vegetation or across soft mud.

The cold had penetrated through to the core of my body and it was a relief to complete my circuit. But as I turned the car heater up to full, my mind was still buzzing with images of cackling cormorants in trees, and goldeneyes and wigeon bobbing out on the icy water. Although widely regarded as primarily seabirds, cormorants are also found on lochs and rivers, especially in winter. However, in Scotland, most cormorants nest on sea cliffs and coastal stacks.

Cormorants are almost prehistoric in appearance, which doesn’t lend any favours when it comes to human perception.