The Oban Times

Spring arrival: wild goats and wheatears

- IAIN THORNBER iain.thornber@btinternet.com

Dave Sexton, the highly popular RSPB officer for Mull, who deserves the Freedom of the Island for all the business he helps bring to it, and Morvern ornitholog­ist and photograph­er Alan Kennedy – whose wonderful and unique picture of an adult otter dragging a rabbit back to its young delighted so many followers on Facebook recently – record that the first wheatears of the year have arrived, albeit rather later than usual according to old records.

Wheatears belong to the genus Oenanthe. They are passerine birds, that is birds which have feet specialise­d for grasping branches and similar structures, with the first toe facing backwards. They were formerly considered to be members of the thrush family, but are now more commonly placed in the flycatcher group.

The name wheatear is not derived from wheat or any sense of ear, but is a 16th-century linguistic corruption of white and arse, referring to the prominent white rump found in most species.

Henry Davenport Graham, in his Birds of Iona and Mull (1890) tells us that in his youth wheatears were in great demand around Beachy Head in Essex for the table, where they were served up as ortolans [a small songbird considered by the French as a delicacy. Caught before they flew south for the winter, they were force fed then drowned in a cask of Armagnac brandy prior to being dished up on fried vine leaves]. It seems large numbers of them were captured in cleverly constructe­d turf traps and sold in the local markets for a shilling a dozen.

Oenanthe is also the name of a plant genus, the water dropworts, and is derived from the Greek oenos wine and anthos flower. In the case of the plant genus, it refers to the wine-like scent of the flowers. In the case of the wheatear, it signifies the Northern wheatear’s return to Greece in the spring just as the grapevines blossom. In Gaelic they were known as crithneach­an and in English, undergroun­d jobbler.

A good deal of superstiti­on used to surround wheatears. If they were seen for the first time perching on a stone, the weather would be stormy and calm if spotted on a sod. In some parts of the Highlands and islands they were called Fear na Feill Padruig, bird of the Feast of St Patrick because they usually appeared on 17th

March – the traditiona­l death date of the saint. According to Alexander Carmichael (1832-1912), the renowned Gaelic folklorist and collector from Lismore, wheatears were known as siant or sained and were thought to hibernate during winter.

In support of this extraordin­ary theory, he recorded that a Donald MacMurdoch from Bailemeadh­onach in Islay told him that he and his sons were clearing away an old turf-wall one winter when they came across great numbers of them inside it. The birds were stiff and cold and appeared to be dead. The boys took some home and laid them on the floor beside a fire and before long they began to show signs of life, flap their wings and fly about.

Carmichael recorded a similar story in Glencreran in Appin from Donald MacColl the local foxhunter. It appears that in the early 1800s a long stretch of undermined bank fell down on a nearby road. Among the debris of roots, moss and gravel there were masses of wheatears, ap

parently dead. There had been a long spell of frost, followed by a sudden thaw and above average heat. The birds exposed to this rise in temperatur­e showed signs of life. Some children took a number of the dormant birds home and brought them to life in front of fires. This was such an unusual phenomenon that people came from near and far to see it. Carmichael recorded that these informants were highly intelligen­t and very observant naturalist­s.

So, who knows? Other, earlier than usual, spring arrivals include several immature great northern divers feeding off the rocky shores between Kingairloc­h and Kilmalieu.

Nearby, wild goat kids have been foraging among the seaweed with their siblings since at least late January. Their numbers this year appear to be slightly down both here and on the west coast of Jura. Perhaps the continuous rain is responsibl­e. Doubtless there will be further mortalitie­s among them and the already sadly depleted red deer numbers by over-shooting, as the new grass appears.

In the plant world primroses are well ahead particular­ly noticeable among the damp moss-covered cliffs along Loch Sunart-side between Achleac and Kinlochsun­art and on the shores of Loch Aline. For weeks ditches and pools as high as 1,100ft above sea level among the Morvern hills have been overflowin­g with frogspawn which, in time, will provide tasty morsels for travelling otters and wandering herons.

 ?? ?? Above, a wild goat on the Isle of Jura, and below, a pair of mature Kingairloc­h goats above Loch Linnhe. Their numbers this year appear to be slightly down both on the Morvern peninsula and on the west coast of Jura; top right, the rugged shore line between Kingairloc­h and Ardgour is favoured by wild goats, wheatears (pictured inset) and other birds.
Above, a wild goat on the Isle of Jura, and below, a pair of mature Kingairloc­h goats above Loch Linnhe. Their numbers this year appear to be slightly down both on the Morvern peninsula and on the west coast of Jura; top right, the rugged shore line between Kingairloc­h and Ardgour is favoured by wild goats, wheatears (pictured inset) and other birds.
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 ?? All photograph­s: The Iain Thornber Collection, apart from the wheatear, which is published courtesy of Alan Kennedy. ??
All photograph­s: The Iain Thornber Collection, apart from the wheatear, which is published courtesy of Alan Kennedy.
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