‘Many of our seabirds are full of plastic’: One man’s mission to save the precious wildlife around Scotland’s shores
The vagaries of the weather, in its many moods, dominate the Orkney islands. As summer draws to a close, and most seabirds have left their vertiginous breeding grounds, a strong, distinctive scent mingles with the salt-sea tang – fulmars, the last pelagic wanderers to leave the cliffs.
The wind is rising. The sky grows dark. Fulmars fly round and round, mesmerising with their speed and skill, cruising the air stiff-winged. It’s precision flight, each bird coming tantalisingly close, then dipping away, wings seemingly motionless. Nests on ledges below house their single, fat chicks – preparing for maiden flights and almost ready to start a long life at sea. Salt-bitten vestiges of summer cling to the headland – stunted grass-of-parnassus and purple scabious.
Boisterous gusts boil kelp and sea water, whipping it into a frenzy – sending spume frothily skywards from geos and hidden caves. Fulmars fly low over the swell, high waves massaging long wings, as light paints rainbows against threatening bruised clouds. Fulmars and gales are a marriage made in heaven. I have loved watching them since my childhood.
Such perfect white and soft grey plumage, dark eyes that seem kind but belie the complexities of this member of the tubenose family that, with their unique nasal passages, scent food across the ocean. Fulmars have adapted to numerous man-made oceanic changes and have taken advantage of our disgraceful wastefulness. The past horrors of whaling and commercial fishing – with flensing and discards – meant rich pickings for fulmars, and the population increased.
However, they are seriously under threat from plastic as they unwittingly ingest large amounts picked off the sea along with their prey. Most seabirds are full of plastics. Sadly, fulmars are no exception.
Orcadian wildlife cameraman and photographer Raymond Besant has always been passionate about fulmars. His debut film, which he describes as a labour of love, documents the tragic story of how the fulmar is being affected by plastic pollution.
With his sensitive and poignant narration and extraordinary photography, Flying Dustbins is powerful, beautiful, yet sad – leaving the viewer in no doubt of the damage humans are doing.
It won two awards at the International Film Festival in Montana and was a finalist in Wild Talk Africa in 2009.
Not only did the film raise awareness of the horrific issue of plastic pollution, it also helped to highlight the importance of Raymond’s work.
I wait for him on the shore close to Stromness – a beach overlooking the island of Hoy, where he walks his dog Lyra. Raymond is easy to
talk to and unassuming, despite his wide wildlife knowledge and skills. He has a degree in bioscience, and has always been interested in photography and nature. He began his career as a photographer with The Press And Journal but soon became more interested in photojournalism, leading to global travel.
He has since been closely involved with the BBC’s Natural History Unit and numerous other filmmakers, and has captured an incredible range of species – from elephants to orcas, hyenas, grey seals, fruit bats, wolves and Tibetan foxes. His work is regularly featured on the broadcaster’s popular shows and he has recently been filming for the ground-breaking series Frozen Planet II.
“Going to Greenland for Frozen Planet was incredible, but it revealed the true story of climate change. Part of the remit was to try to film massive ice blocks breaking off the vast Store Glacier – a process called calving.
“On the one hand, you want to see it, but on the other, you don’t – as this is undeniable proof that Greenland’s vast ice sheet is melting due to the warming temperatures in polar regions,” says Raymond.
“Climate change is already seriously affecting our Scottish Arctic specialists – mountain hare, dotterel and ptarmigan, all species I have spent long periods filming. I wonder what will happen to them even in my lifetime.
“It has taken me a long time to become established, but now I’m asked to do more and more. I have recently been to Africa, Northern Europe, China and Sri Lanka, as well as polar regions. I love studying new animals.”
Raymond was one of two principal cameramen for the making of Highlands – Scotland’s Wild Heart. Over two years this entailed hard graft – trudging across frozen mountains and bogs, travelling to remote islands and lugging exceptionally heavy gear amid biting insects and inclement weather. But the results were breathtaking.
Indeed, most of Raymond’s work involves challenges, but his passion for this work – and love of the wildness of both the landscapes and the animals and birds – are key to such success.
Meanwhile, we watch extraordinary intimate wildlife scenes on our screens, often overlooking the enormity of the task – the time, effort and technical complexities.
For some time, I have followed Raymond on social media. His dramatic photographs of Orcadian storms fill me with a yearning to return to our rugged coasts.
However, his images of dead birds killed by the avian flu epidemic brought a sharp reminder of this latest challenge to hit beleaguered seabirds. What is happening here in Scotland, where we have 56% of the world’s of great skuas – also known as bonxies – is of global significance.
The bonxie colonies on St Kilda, where Raymond has spent time filming, were severely hit. “There is a real fear that we might lose the bonxies altogether,” Raymond says.
Though he’s renowned for his long-lens wildlife camera work, his brilliant drone work and underwater filming, Raymond retains a love for still photography.
He has had two books published, Naturally Orkney and Naturally Orkney – Coastline. Each is a treasure trove depicting the wildlife, the wild storms and life of these islands, and the patient ethos and heart of one of Scotland’s great naturalists. Though so widely travelled, it is on Orkney that Raymond is at his happiest.“People don’t believe me when I say how much I love filming storms and the wonderful wildlife – otters, seals, orca and fulmars on Orkney. However, I cannot help worrying that wildlife is under pressure, with more people coming to the islands and more people out taking photographs,” he says.
“I became worried one year when we had an unusually hard frost, and a female otter with cubs was seen daily at a frozen loch. She struggled to find enough food, and people became aware she was there. I put out a polite message on social media. Luckily, people were respectful.
Shafts of brilliance pierce cloud over Hoy, sending a gold pathway on to the sea. A curlew calls. I recall one of Raymond’s mindful moments, shown on the BBC’s Springwatch – filmed at dawn at a lochside on Orkney. Precious elements of nature, often unseen, filmed perfectly by a man who understands exactly why love and respect for nature should be at the heart of all we do.