scotland

The Rut

| Rebecca Gibson

For years it’s been a dream of mine to watch Scottish red deer in the autumn so last week my boyfriend Steve and I journeyed to the west coast to find some. We saw deer every day but they were often on the peaks of the hills and too far away for photos. Even if the sights weren’t great, the sounds were fantastic. At night in the chalet I’d pause during dinner after hearing a faint mooing sound from outside. It wasn’t cows but the bellowing of breeding stags on the hill across the loch, working hard to protect their own harems of hinds or attempting to steal someone else’s. They bellowed long into the early hours and several times I woke up disorientated, wondering if I had dreamt it.

A distant hind on the crest of the hill.

On the last full day of the trip after yet more distant silhouettes on the horizon we turned around and started driving back to the house, just about ready to accept defeat. In an almost cliched “nick of time” moment Steve suddenly spotted a stag with his harem in a field not far from the road. Naturally there was nowhere to pull over so we ditched the car in a layby, walked back up the road and crawled the last few metres on our bellies to avoid scaring the deer.

A stag bellows in front of his harem of hinds

After several minutes of crawling I discovered that my hands were covered in roughly a dozen ticks, all tiny and luckily unattached. However, the ticks, mud and poo were all worth it for the views. The stag in the field below was in full rut mode, bellowing every minute or so and chasing the hinds around. None succumbed to his advances but he persevered, even jumping the hilariously named “deer proof fence” with ease. As well as the larger stag, there were also several younger stags feeding on the hill at eye level with us. They stared us down every time we shifted position but seemed content to carry on as normal and let us watch.

After several days of hearing deer without seeing many, getting to spend a couple of hours being completely surrounded by them was the perfect way to end our trip. Deer are one of those Marmite animals for some people, but I think they’re exceptionally special and I relish every encounter I have with them.

October Wildlife

| Rebecca Gibson

Birds

From this month until November, look out for flocks of winter thrushes as they move south. Fieldfares are similar to the more common song thrush but have slate grey and chestnut colouring rather than warm brown. Redwings are easy to identify because they have a patch of red beneath each of their wings. These birds have bred in Iceland and Scandinavia and are now feasting on berries in large groups.  

Mammals

With winter looming, many mammals are busy caching food and building up fat reserves to see them through the cold season. Hazelnuts are now ripening so look out for squirrels as they forage and horde away their finds for when food is less abundant. As well as hazelnuts, red squirrels feed on seeds from many different trees including pine, larch and spruce. Their diet also consists of fungi, fruits and even birds’ eggs if they get the opportunity.

As wildlife spectacles go, the red deer rut has got to be one of the most dramatic. Every October, stags battle it out with each other for the right to breed with a harem of females, or hinds. During August and September, stags have been developing thicker necks and shaggy manes in preparation for the rut. While clashing antlers is common, on many occasions rival males will walk alongside each other to gauge their opponent’s strength. It is best to watch the red deer rut during early morning or evening, but be careful not to get too close. Watch safely from a respectful distance and enjoy the sights and sounds of Britain’s largest land mammals as they breed.

If you’d like to see the red deer rut this autumn, check out this Countryfile article for some ideas of places to visit.

Red Deer

Fungi and Flora

Head to the woods this month to see lots more fungi. With more wet weather, fungal fruiting bodies of all shapes and sizes will be emerging. Interestingly, the visible body above ground is only a tiny fraction of the whole fungus – many metres of filaments known as hyphae spread out below the soil and are extremely beneficial for breaking down leaf litter and dead animals. Look for fungi on rotting wood, in particular fallen trees and sodden stumps. You may need to get lower down to see some of the daintier varieties, but in many areas they’re very obvious. Some fungus families grow in circles, which are known as ‘fairy rings’ and increase in diameter as the fungus ages.

This piece was originally published on Bloom in Doom as part of my role as Nature Editor.

Newsletter July to September

| Rebecca Gibson

As this strange year continues, I’ve been busy taking photos, writing articles and getting stuck into new projects. I’ve ticked off 36 new species this quarter including my first otter, basking shark and northern bottlenose whales. Now the temperature has started to drop and I’m really looking forward to autumn and all its exciting wildlife spectacles!

Red Squirrel Week

| Rebecca Gibson

It’s National Red Squirrel Week!

I didn’t see my first red squirrel until I was eighteen, but since then I’ve been extremely lucky with sightings of these gorgeous mammals and they’ve been a firm favourite of mine ever since. I often see them while walking my dog through the forest and the first giveaway signs that I’ve found one are the sounds of rapid scrabbling overhead and the occasional thud of a pinecone as it hits the floor. At this time of year, red squirrels are hard at work finding food to see them through the winter. Instead of large caches, squirrels are scatter-hoarders, which means they store each item separately. Unlike grey squirrels, red squirrels can’t easily digest acorns and instead feed on hazelnuts and seeds from many different trees including pine, larch and spruce. Their diet also consists of fungi, fruits and even birds’ eggs if they get the opportunity.   

This week, I was very pleased to see two of my red squirrel images featured in BBC Wildlife magazine’s new Red Squirrel Guide, written by ‘Saving Scotland’s Red Squirrels’. Both photos were taken in Lockerbie, Dumfries and Galloway, where I’ve had some very close encounters with these animals! While I’ve seen plenty of adults, my next challenge is to spot some red squirrel babies, which are called kits.

Before the introduction of grey squirrels into Britain, there were millions of red squirrels. Nowadays there are thought to be around 120,000 left in Scotland, which is 75% of the UK population. As part of National Red Squirrel Week, ‘Saving Scotland’s Red Squirrels’ are encouraging people all over Scotland to take part in the Great Scottish Squirrel Survey from the 21st to 27th September. All you have to do is go for a walk in the woods and if you see either a red or grey squirrel then submit your sighting on the website. Even after the Squirrel Survey has finished, you can still submit sightings throughout the year.

It won’t be long before the red squirrels near me start growing their ear tufts, which I can’t wait to see!

Red Squirrels and Cresties

| Rebecca Gibson

It has become a running joke that I’m pretty unlucky when it comes to seeing certain species. Examples include otters, badgers and deer, despite the fact that I now live in Scotland, which is essentially the deer capital of the UK! But, if there’s one animal that I have an affinity for, it’s the red squirrel. There’s something irresistible about their fluffy tails, tiny hands and beady eyes. And of course they all have completely different personalities. I will never not be excited by red squirrels, no matter how many times I see one. I must have thousands of photos of them by now but I always take more, and this weekend was no exception.

My friend Steve and I visited Lossiemouth for some wildlife watching in a beautiful patch of coniferous woodland by the estuary. Within ten minutes of arriving I was gazing down my telephoto lens at a red squirrel as it clutched a monkey nut in its paws. Despite the flurry of coal, great and blue tits, I would happily have just watched the squirrels until a particularly special bird caught my eye: the crested tit. In Britain, these birds are mostly confined to the Caledonian forests and Scots pine plantations of Scotland. The punky hairdo is perhaps the most striking feature of the crested tit but their bright red eyes are pretty amazing too! I couldn’t believe I was so close to such an uncommon and beautiful British bird.

Coal tit

As well as squirrels and cresties, we were surrounded by dozens of other birds including another favourite of mine: the long tailed tit. The proportions of this bird are what I love most about them. They have a body like a golf ball with a spoon handle sticking out one end and the sharp nib of a bill out the other. What a bird! And where there’s one, there are nearly always more and I often hear them before I see them. Their alarm call sounds frog-like and the trees erupt with soft ribbits whenever I pass by.  

I am in my element in the forest. It’s my favourite wild place to visit and I absolutely loved getting such close-up views of some fantastic species. After a couple of hours the afternoon sun began to fade and a chilly breeze had us packing up and heading home, though I’d definitely be back soon.

Amongst the Heather

| Rebecca Gibson

Recently I’ve begun helping my new friends Joan and her husband John with their exciting woodland restoration project. Once dominated by non-native Sitka spruce, the site now has a diverse range of trees including rowans, larches, oaks and wild cherries. As a result, it’s attracted plenty of wildlife from bumblebees to pine martens! So far I’ve been getting stuck in with rescuing trees, which involves cutting the plastic tubes off of saplings that have outgrown them. I was rewarded with a feast of wild raspberries and plenty of opportunities to photograph invertebrates and an outrageous fungus!

Joan pointed out the two types of heather, which on closer inspection couldn’t be more different. Bell heather (above left) is a rich pink colour and each flower is a fat, tubular bell. Ling heather is a much paler violet and its flowers have wider, skirt-like heads. The heather attracted plenty of insects – I spotted ladybirds, flies, bees and butterflies wafting around the purple sprays.

As I searched for any trees that may look a little large for their tubes, I happened to glance down at a sodden tree stump and noticed a huge stack of caterpillars! There were perhaps a dozen of them all wrapped around each other, sat out in the open for anyone to find. I quickly texted my friend Lucy, whose insect knowledge was far superior to mine, and she told me they were buff tip moth caterpillars. I’d never seen so many caterpillars together before and it was such a treat getting to photograph them.

Unfortunately after a couple of hours tree rescuing the midges made their presence a little too intense, so I headed back to the clearing where we’d left our bags. I could see a winding tendril of smoke from the fire John had started to make tea, but the sprawling mass of heather, bracken and saplings made it tricky to find a route there. Several times I was blocked off and it took me a comical amount of time to find the pressed footpath that I took on the way out. Just before I sat down to tea and posh biscuits, Joan pointed out an excellent nerd find: a stinkhorn fungus. I’d only seen one of these before and it hadn’t looked its best, but this one was looking fabulous. An excellent end to an afternoon’s rescuing!

Back to the Sea

| Rebecca Gibson

I go through phases when it comes to wildlife watching. For the past couple of months, I’ve been deep in a forest phase and all I’ve wanted to do is wander through trees and look for birds and red squirrels. My Instagram was full of greens and the first hints of autumn oranges.

But then the ocean started pulling me back. After a few weeks with no sightings, bottlenose dolphins started to make appearances along the Moray Firth again. It was looking unlikely that I’d see my first orcas this summer, but I was still looking forward to getting dolphin photos that showed slightly more than the departing splash. I was back in an ocean phase.

Earlier this month, on a particularly choppy morning, I found myself running full pelt along Burghead harbour to reach the end of the sea wall that juts out conveniently into the sea. From there, I could watch three different pods of bottlenoses as they caught fish. With so many breaking waves and white peaks, I didn’t know what I’d managed to capture until I returned home and uploaded the photos. I was thrilled to discover I’d caught a little face just as it breached the surface.

A few weeks later, I received a text alert from the local shore watchers saying there were bottlenoses heading west around the headland. Snatching up my camera, I made a beeline for my favourite vantage point at the end of the harbour. Unlike last time, the water was completely flat and every flash of fin caught my eye. Unfortunately all the feeding action happened far out, way past the range of my lens, but I did have an unexpected visitor pass close by.

The action continued the next week. Another text alert had me hiking up to the Burghead Visitor Centre at sunset and before long I had my lens pointed at a small pod who were following a jet ski and giving the driver some sensational views! As well as belly flops and tail waves, there were plenty of breaches. It was amazing to see the dolphins so active.

In the last of a flurry of excellent dolphin sightings, I paid Chanonry Point on the Black Isle another visit: one of the prime dolphin watching spots. Within moments of arriving – being sure to time my visit with the rising tide – a pod cruised straight past. Although there were no breaches this time, one particular dolphin dived three times directly in front of the crowd, revealing a distinctive notch in its tail fluke. I was also delighted to see a newborn calf among the adults, sticking closely to Mum as they passed by.    

As summer blends into autumn, the dramatic display of emerging fungi will undoubtedly draw me into another forest phase, but I’ve loved having so many marine wildlife encounters this month. I’ve now got plenty more dolphin photos to add to my portfolio too!

Troup Head

| Rebecca Gibson

I had seen gannets a few times before; on a trip to the Isles of Scilly they had flown over the boat, and more recently I’d enjoyed watching them dive for fish near where I live in Moray. However, nothing could have prepared me for Troup Head. This RSPB site in Banff, about an hour’s drive from Aberdeen, provides nesting grounds for two thousand pairs of gannets, as well as thousands of other seabirds. During the short walk from the car park to the cliffs, both sounds and smells intensified until they reached a crescendo of squawks and guano pongs.

There were gannets everywhere. Without wanting to make them sound like flies, they swarmed around the cliff, gliding in deep circles as they came into land on the rocks. Many of them had chicks – currently clouds of white down with black reptilian heads. Dotted among them were the auks: guillemots, razorbills and the occasional puffin all grappling for a bit of wing room in the tight squeeze. Peering carefully down, I noticed just how high up we were. The swan-sized gannets – Britain’s largest seabird – looked like sparrows at sea level. Even the coastguard helicopter that passed by was below us. Troup Head really was a bird’s eye view.

The site became a significant birdwatching spot when gannets began to colonise it in 1988. Troup Head is now Scotland’s largest mainland gannet colony. We spent seven hours wandering along the track, shuffling across the tussocks to get the right vantage point for photos. Gannets came sweeping in to land in an endless queue, many suspended in mid-air and bobbing in the wind. There was something very duck-like about the way their webbed feet stuck out to the sides, and more than once a bird would crash-land quite unceremoniously with a ruffle of the feathers.

It was interesting to see lots of gannet behaviours up close. The birds pair for life and return to the same nest site each year with the same partner. To cement their pair bond, males and females will ‘fence’ together, clicking their bills from side to side and mutually grooming one another.

‘Fencing’

To ensure that one parent remains on the nest at all times, a gannet will stretch its neck and stare straight upwards in a pose called ‘sky pointing’, which signals to its mate that it is about to take off.

‘Sky Pointing’

With so many birds on one cliff, it’s inevitable that there will be disputes over space. If a gannet gets too close to a neighbour’s nest, there is a display called ‘menacing’, where the birds will open their bills and lock them together in an attempt to jostle each other off the cliff.

‘Menacing’

While some quarrels are short-lived, others develop into full-blown fights, and with such formidable bills these can be aggressive.  

Gannets have been a favourite of mine for many years, so to see such a vast colony so full of activity was a real treat. I was even more impressed that I didn’t get pooed on once!

Wren Family

| Rebecca Gibson

Earlier this week I went looking for badgers. Unfortunately I didn’t see any but I wasn’t discouraged. Any foray into the natural world is dependent on good timing and a healthy dose of luck. Besides, even if you don’t manage to see what you set out to find, there’s nearly always a surprise and this evening was no exception. As well as a brown hare, a very well camouflaged roe deer and pairs of siskins and greenfinches, I met a bubbly family of wrens living beneath the eaves of a tiny shed.

There were two slender adults and five golfball chicks all hopping from the shed to nearby trees and back, the latter being particularly vocal and standing with their beaks wide open demanding a snack. Wrens are notoriously bold and easily one of the noisiest British birds in relation to their size so they weren’t at all afraid of me; in fact they continued their foraging quite happily while I sat below with my camera. Of course it would have been lovely to see some badgers, but it’s just an excuse to go back and see what surprises I find next time.

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