Beavering Away

August 3, 2022March 7, 2023 | Rebecca Gibson

This summer is zooming by! I’ve been spending the past few months travelling and writing my book, which is now due in three months. That’s quite a terrifying thought actually…

My research trips have involved stomping through Caledonian pinewood, sampling local whiskies and searching for hidden stone circles. I’m absolutely loving this challenging yet rewarding project and can’t wait to see the finished product on the shelves. Here’s a sneak preview of the front cover.

As well as book writing, I’ve been putting together my 2023 calendar. Like last time, it features a range of Scottish birds and mammals that I’ve photographed this year including snow buntings, badgers and even a goshawk!

And finally, I took some time away from the north east recently and headed down to Perthshire to photograph beavers. These incredible animals completely transform their surroundings and it was a privilege to spend so much time with them.

Beaver Expedition: Day 4

June 26, 2017November 3, 2017 | Rebecca Gibson

Another sunrise start for our final chance of watching the beavers. This morning the sun was visible, and when we set out it was a pale orange splotch hovering over the river, sending orange lines criss-crossing over the water as the wind stirred it. We made a beeline for our usual spot, slowing down as we approached the patch of rhododendrons in case the beavers had already emerged. Settling down and standing up tripods, the waiting game began. Infuriatingly, my hay fever chose this moment to launch its morning attack, and as my eyes streamed I fought the overwhelming impulse to sneeze and startle everything within a twelve-mile radius half to death. Not today hay fever.

The morning continued on with no visitors. Slowly but surely the sun climbed higher, bleaching the blue water with white highlights. The usual breeze whistled under the overhang of the trees and made them wave and rustle; the only movement in sight. A pied wagtail landed on the dead wood, tail bobbing as it turned on the spot. Deep in the woodland thicket a thrush sang, while the jackdaws chattered noisily in the distance.

Suddenly a beaver appeared, cruising silently from under the bushes and into the light. It made its way upstream, to where the river weaved between clumps of reeds and grasses. There it disappeared, but soon we heard quiet chomping noises and knew it was breakfast time.

In contrast to yesterday morning, the lone beaver wasn’t joined by any companions. It was possible that they had fed well late last night and did not need to venture out. Before long Heather and Cain headed off to get started on assembling the expedition vlog. As they made their slow way back over the water, Cain stopped and gestured into the reeds. I suddenly realised we hadn’t seen the beaver swim back, and while he could have easily dived under and passed by unnoticed, he could also still be feeding. Sure enough, Heather set the scope up to film again. Not wanting to miss the action, I treaded up the grass path nearly doubled over, until I saw what they’d spotted.

Just at the water’s edge, behind a layer of long grass like a bead curtain, was our beaver. Hunched up, the grass trembled as he chewed, shifted his body and chewed again. Squatting down, I got as close as I dared and peeked between the blades of grass to try and get a clear shot. The beaver paused, looked right at me – so much for my attempts at stealth – and carried on chewing. He stayed for a while longer until eventually stepping forward out of the grass and slipping back into the water, gliding down and out of sight.

Once I’d got a few more hours’ sleep and eaten a hearty breakfast, it was time to check the camera traps. After the efforts of finding the right spot, setting them up and waiting for any visitors, retrieving the trap was the best bit. I retrieved my laptop and we all huddled around the table, eager to see if we’d got any beaver footage. After the first trap only showed clips of grass blowing in the wind, we were a little disappointed. However, on the trap that we’d set on a post in the river, pointing towards a mud slope, there were multiple clips of beavers waddling in and out of the water! First a male coming and going, dragging his paddle of a tail behind him. Then another clip showed a much wider animal – the female – following the same route. It was so great to see, especially since we’d only seen the tops of the beavers’ heads as they swam on our morning stakeouts. To see their whole body and capture moving footage was a fantastic end to the expedition.

All too soon it was time to leave the site, and as we drove back down the gravel track the sun continued to shine. We decided to go back down south via the Loch of the Lowes, a Scottish Wildlife Trust site, to try and see some ospreys that were nesting there.

The loch was the largest I’d ever seen, looking more like an alcove that led into the ocean. The water was sparkling blue under the still beaming sun, surrounded by trees of every shade of green. We set up in the hide and the reserve guide pointed the nest out to us. On the far side of the loch, high up in one of the trees, was a clustered pile of branches and twigs, inside of which perched an adult osprey and two scruffy chicks. I’d never seen an osprey before so was thrilled to see such a fabulous raptor on the nest. As I watched them down the scope, the adult tended to her chicks, which were peering over the edge of the nest at the world around them.

Before long it was time to hit the road again, and after such a packed weekend I couldn’t stop myself dozing off in the car. I arrived home with my pockets filled with beaver chippings, woodpecker feathers and endless pages of notes – sure signs of a good expedition.

Species seen: Buzzard (Buteo buteo) European beaver (Castor fiber) Great tit (Parus major) House martin (Delichon urbicum) Jackdaw (Corvus monedula) Osprey (Pandion haliaetus) Pied wagtail (Motacilla alba) Song thrush (Turdus philomelos) Swallow (Hirundo rustica)

Beaver Expedition: Day 3

June 24, 2017November 3, 2017 | Rebecca Gibson

This morning we were up before the sun at a bleary-eyed 3:30am. Once again we headed towards the river, confident that this time we’d get more than a fleeting glimpse of a face in the shadows. The sky was cloudy, so the morning grew slowly brighter without direct sunlight. The water beneath the rhododendrons was shrouded in darkness, so we needed sharp eyes to spot any faces emerging from the lodge.

(Above) A beaver dam on the river, showing the significant difference between the water levels.

Sharp sheep bleats and whistling thrush song burst through the empty air, as well as the splashes of fish leaping from the water. A chilly breeze swept the reeds from side to side, making it a real challenge telling apart the normal water ripples and those made by the beavers. We waited a little while longer, then a slim flat shape made its way out from under the dead wood. Our beaver soon dived under again, but slowly and surely other individuals emerged. One of the rustles was tiny, and as two leaves parted a different face appeared: a kit. Far smaller than the adults, the kit swam in a small circle then dived down, showing a tail that would be more at home on an otter’s rump than a beaver’s; skinny and ending in a point.

At this time of year, the kit may only be weeks old, having only just begun to venture out of the safety of the lodge. Similar to the precocious development of many other species of rodents, beaver kits are born at a very advanced stage of growth. Their eyes are fully open within a few days of birth and begin to eat solid food at just a week old.

The kit didn’t stay out for long, but the adults kept reappearing over the next two hours. At one point the male and a larger female met in a nose nuzzle, which was a great moment to capture brief footage of. At nearly 6am, the river grew quiet and still again, and after a while of inactivity we made our way back to the cottage.

The next job of the day was checking the moth trap, and we got a much more successful haul than yesterday; Peach Blossom, Latticed Heath and Pale-Shouldered Brocade, as well as some we had yesterday like the Beautiful Golden Y, White Ermine and the formidable, spaceship-esque Poplar Hawkmoth. I really have fallen in love with moths this weekend; after only previously having seen them flapping around my face in the bath, it was great being able to see them properly and appreciate just how beautiful they can be.

Identifying a Silver Ground Carpet moth

Ghost moth

Beautiful Golden Y

After releasing the moths, it was time for lunch, then we went back out for a potter down the river. The clouds had long gone and now the sun was beating down, turning the grass and tree neon-green. Blue damselflies zipped about and bees buzzed, weaving in and out of the foxgloves. I took cover from the direct sun and sat by the water’s edge, where I was joined by a tiny, copper-coloured froglet, and then two aphids. It’s only at a time like this, when all my senses are tuned to nature, do I truly stop to study invertebrates. The aphids had pale spots on their backs and tiny black tips on their feet. I ended up walking them from hand to hand for ages.

Before long the heat made the day just a little too sticky, so I took refuge in the shade of the cottage, where I spent the rest of the afternoon transferring my notes and backing up the photos from the day.

Species seen: Blackbird (Turdus merula) Chaffinch (Fringilla coelebs) European beaver (Castor fiber) European rabbit (Oryctolagus cuniculus) Great tit (Parus major) Grey wagtail (Motacilla cinerea) House martin (Delichon urbicum) Jackdaw (Corvus monedula) Peregrine falcon (Falco peregrinus) Pied wagtail (Motacilla alba) Roe deer (Capreolus capreolus) Song thrush (Turdus philomelos)

Beaver Expedition: Day 2

June 22, 2017November 3, 2017 | Rebecca Gibson

The day began with waking up from a heavenly night’s sleep – my bed was like a marshmallow. After breakfast and a dip into what Heather calls THE Beaver book, by Andrew Kitchener, we headed back along the river to find some spots to set up camera traps.

The sun came and went, bringing its heat with it so I couldn’t make up my mind whether I wanted my coat or not. Every so often we’d see a different coloured spot in the sea of green grass, and I spent a lot of the afternoon squatting in the grass training my macro lens on day moths, flies and beetles. Before long we reached a clearly trodden corridor in the grass that snaked down to the river. We followed it down and saw a defined mud slope leading into the water; this was a sure route for beavers. One camera trap set and ready.

We set the other two on the other side of the river, to hopefully catch any beavers coming down from the adjacent field like the one we spotted last night. Beaver footage would be incredibly exciting, especially during the day.

Back at the cottage, we retrieved the moths that Heather and Cain had caught in the traps during the night. Taking them outside, we had a little macro photo shoot. White Ermine, Poplar Hawkmoth, Large Yellow Underwing, all beautiful, delicate creatures with easily the same beauty as butterflies. Seeing them up close instead of zooming around my head in the shower made a world of difference; stood still they were stunning, covered in shimmering dust of every colour imaginable.

After some lunch at the cottage we headed back out, this time with nets and white trays ready for some pond dipping. I hadn’t pond dipped since I was tiny, so it brought back a lot of memories for me.

Finding the perfect dipping spot was difficult. The first place we tried was too steep, and knowing my balance I’d have fallen straight in. The next spot we found was good for dipping but we only managed to find a few blood worms, miniscule grains of wiggly sand that catapulted themselves around the tray with curled convulsions of their tiny bodies. Finally we headed away from the cottage towards the lake – made entirely by the beavers I hasten to add – where we had much better luck. In a single tray I got a good look at caddis fly larvae, damselfly nymphs, backswimmers (which performed their rather comedic backstroke around the tray), water beetles and lots of microscopic creatures. Using my macro lens I could capture the beautiful detail that make these pond aliens so extraordinary. They honestly looked like visitors from another planet.

There were even more treats on the journey back. Just as I was ducking under a low fern I saw a flash of chestnut red and my arm rose of its own accord in a rapid point. “Squirrel!” I whispered as urgently but quietly as I could. The squirrel darted along a felled tree then up a living one, skirting up the bark just as easy horizontally as vertically. A group of chaffinches began to mob it, clearly too close to a nest. Bounding from one tree to the next, the squirrel speedily made its way away from the ruffled birds, and paused to peer down at us as we gawped. A tail twitch later and he was down on the forest floor again, disappearing into the forest.

We continued on, making our way back to the cottage. Dinner was stir-fry, and after finishing up we headed to the river, in the hope of seeing our beavers again. We took cover under the overhang of a tree, nestling in amongst the roots that divided us like the arms of cinema seats. Then we lay in wait. And once again, after only a short wait there was a rustling beneath the rhododendrons and a dark shape emerged. It was too dark for photos, but just to see the beavers only a short distance away was yet another treat. Now all we had to do was return at sunrise.

Species seen: Blue tit (Cyanistes caeruleus) Chaffinch (Fringilla coelebs) European beaver (Castor fiber) European rabbit (Oryctolagus cuniculus) Great tit (Parus major) Heron (Ardea cinerea) House martin (Delichon urbicum) Jackdaw (Corvus monedula) Moorhen (Gallinula chloropus) Pied wagtail (Motacilla alba) Red squirrel (Sciurus vulgaris) Song Thrush (Turdus philomelos) Starling (Sturnus vulgaris) Swallow (Hirundo rustica) Woodpigeon (Columba palumbus)

Beaver Expedition: Day 1

June 20, 2017November 3, 2017 | Rebecca Gibson

The drive to the cottage was as picturesque as I imagined it would be. As we bumped down a winding gravel path I peered out the window into the dense woodland on either side. As trees whipped past I squinted to see between them, in the hope of spotting a squirrel or perhaps a deer, or maybe even the star of our expedition, the European beaver.

Woodland gave way to open fields, and amongst the sheep was a river that cut across the road. What was once a trickling stream was now several metres wide, all thanks to the handiwork of the beavers. Every once in a while a tree stump chiselled to a sharp point came into view, with a bed of wood clippings littered all around; countryside statues designed by the very large incisors of our beavers. Like all rodents, their incisors grow continuously, and have both a hard enamel outer layer and a softer dentine layer. Over time, wear of these two layers creates a very sharp edge, allowing the beavers to make short work of hard bark.

After settling into our quaint accommodation, it was back into the wild for a wander while we still had the sunlight. We headed back down the path and began to follow the river away from the cottages. It was clear this was prime beaver habitat. Branches of all different sizes lay strewn across the river, and every so often we’d come across a dam. Beaver dams are extremely important for preventing floods, stemming the flow of the river with packed mud and wood to force the water to flow at a much slower pace. Fascinatingly, the beavers here used to be captive, but after felling trees in their enclosure during the time of a flood, they managed to make their escape, and have since made this beautiful part of Perthshire their home. Now the fact remains whether they are feral, having escaped captivity, or wild, as they have had kits.

A sudden ripple on the water and we all crouched down, scanning the reeds and waiting silently. Perhaps a fish, perhaps something furrier. The tricky thing with beavers is, they can move through water almost without disturbing it, so while we were watching where the ripple was, the animal could now be metres downstream. We walked on, keeping an eye out for beaver prints in the mud. More gnawed trees, and I was astonished to see a smooth chunk out of the bark several feet off the ground, meaning beavers were perfectly capable of climbing.

The forest was one of the greenest and richest I’d been in. It felt like the setting of Jurassic Park, with moist, bouncy grass and dense thicket. Beavers really are skilled decorators, adapting their habitat and changing the land and water use. Right now in late evening, the only sound I could hear were the bleats of sheep from the farms, but I knew hidden in these trees were hundreds of birds, mammals and invertebrates all taking advantage of the idyllic conditions here.

We made our way off the beaten track and wound through the long grass. Suddenly, a sharp “WO” sound echoed through the air, signalling the presence of roe deer. A short time later and a female appeared, eying us cautiously with ears pricked up. She barked again, and in the distance the lower sound of the male echoed back. She foraged for a while before turning away, white tail flashing as she hopped athletically over the tussocks of grass.

She was doing a more graceful job than I was. Not blessed with great balance, I was staggering over logs and wading inelegantly through the grass that the deer negotiated so easily. As I stopped to find my next step, there was a speeding black bullet overheard and I looked up to see a bat zooming around in rapid circles. Heather turned on her bat detector and the alien-like clicks of the bats’ echolocation broke the silence. The calls were clearest at around 40-45Hz, suggesting that the bats were common pipistrelles, though the range of soprano pipistrelles also reaches 45Hz, so we couldn’t be entirely sure. Whichever species it was, they were abundant here; wherever I looked there were bats.

After a quick glance at the time, we realised it was nearly 11pm, despite there still being enough light to see clearly. We made our way back through the grass and towards the river, glancing at the water to see if there was any activity. A flash of white caught my eye and I felt a buzz of excitement as a barn owl swooped by in complete silence, looping ahead of us and disappearing into the trees.

Suddenly Cain froze and we ducked again. There in the field over the river was a brown blob that looked suspiciously beaver-shaped. Sure enough, the blob moved, and our first beaver made its way back towards the water, sliding down a trail and diving below the surface. The excitement was palpable, and we crept as quietly as possible along the path in an attempt to catch a second look.

The beaver didn’t seem to resurface, but then a line of ripples leading back the way we’d come made us freeze again, and a beaver raised its head above the water. As we hadn’t seen ripples coming the other way, we assumed it must be a second individual, which was even more exciting.

Sitting in complete silence, our eyes and ears were trained for any sign. Then we heard a chewing noise, and I realised I was listening to a beaver feed, which was a fantastic thing to hear.

We saw another, slightly smaller beaver floating at the edge of the river, and watched until it swam out of sight, then decided we must get back to the cottage and have some dinner. After such a successful first night, I couldn’t wait to see what we could find over the rest of this weekend.

Species seen: Barn owl (Tyto alba) Common Pipistrelle (Pipistrellus pipistrellus) Cuckoo (Cuculus canorus) European beaver (Castor fiber) Moorhen (Gallinula chloropus) Roe deer (Capreolus capreolus) Swallow (Hirundo rustica) Tawny owl (Strix aluco) Wren (Troglodytes troglodytes)