british birds

Mindful Creative Retreat – Day 3

| Rebecca Gibson

For the last day of the mindful creative retreat, we began in Burgie Arboretum. The grass was soaked with dew and I soon regretted not bringing my wellies!

Still, fungi loves damp ground and we soon spotted one of my favourites: amethyst deceivers. These lovely mushrooms are bright purple, and in contrast to the usual rule of colourful mushrooms being inedible or even poisonous, amethyst deceivers are often foraged. Apparently they have a mildly nutty flavour and keep their bright colour when cooked.

Later in the day we explored a small loch just outside Forres. This session was my favourite of the whole retreat. I sat for hours among the Scots pines, admiring the carpet of heather and bracken.

I was treated to several wildlife encounters. A brave wren appeared only a few feet away, flashing its stubby tail. It did what wrens do best: scream and shout and stick its bum in the air! This one was great fun to photograph.

Shortly after, a brown shape caught my eye and I glanced up to see a buzzard sweeping through the trees. It perched in a very convenient gap for photos. Knowing how skittish these birds can be around people, I felt privileged to see it resting.

Finally a flash of movement on the ground caught my eye and when I eventually found it I realised it was a teeny tiny frog. The afternoon was full of surprises – while walking is a great way to encounter wildlife over distance, certain wonders just won’t happen unless you slow down to a complete stop.

Just before dinner, we gathered by the loch and did some more breath work, led by Jen. I wasn’t sure if I’d notice any changes from Monday but I could actually breathe a lot deeper than I did in the first session. I liked to think it was the calming effects of the retreat, which had turned out to be a huge success.

Have a read of what happened on day one and day two here.   

Embracing Spring

| Rebecca Gibson

I was sorry to see winter go – for over a week I trudged through ankle deep snow and captured some really magical wildlife. But now the snow has gone and all the lovely fieldfares, redwings and bramblings have gone with it. While everyone was looking forward to spring, I was looking back to the winter I loved most.

At the weekend I went for my usual walk and instead of the serene silence that I usually hear in coniferous woodland, I heard birdsong. I picked out robins, coal tits, blue tits and a distant yellowhammer in the gorse fringing the forest. Perhaps most special of all though was the trill of one of my absolute favourite birds: the crested tit. I think I’ll always feel that little jolt of joy when I spot a crestie – they’re just so rare and special and I feel privileged to be able to see them quite easily where I live. The sun was shining so brightly I wished I’d dusted off my sunglasses, and although there was still a chill in the air, I began to embrace spring a little more.

Today my phone made an exciting sound – it was the jingle I’d set especially for local bottlenose dolphin sightings. If the dolphins had returned then spring was really kicking off. It was another glorious day so during a work break I walked up to a particularly good sea vantage point near my house and scanned the perfectly still water. No fins this time, but I watched dozens of birds criss-crossing the horizon from zippy turnstones to bulky cormorants. There was a group of twelve long tailed ducks too, which was a familiar winter sight among the spring buzz. I’ve felt a significant shift in my natural surroundings this week and although I still miss the snow, I’m really looking forward to those gorgeous dolphins coming back.   

Taking Off

| Rebecca Gibson

It was definitely a wellie day. After almost a week of rain, the ground squelched and sloshed with each step. The thickest tussocks of grass were dry, but most of the ground was speckled with puddles. That wasn’t a problem though, and by the looks of the oranges and yellows appearing to the east, the sunrise was going to make some welly wading more than worth it.

Slinging my camera across my back and clutching tripod and camping chair in each hand, I threaded my way around the deepest puddles, leaving indentations in the grass behind me. The chattering babble of thousands of geese easily crossed the still bay, and in the gloom I could just about see them packed tightly together on a skinny sandbar. The tide was coming in so they didn’t have long. Neither did I, so I hastily set up the tripod and waited.

In minutes the sunrise had transformed from a haze of yellow to a blaze of scarlet and bruised purple. That was where the geese would soon be heading – taking off in swathes and moving inland to browse in the nearby fields. As if someone had turned up the volume, the honking increased drastically and a number of them took to the air, triggering others around them to follow. Most stayed behind though, leaving the ambitious few to form a loose skein that blew across the sky like a stray ribbon. They crossed from the pale navy light into the fiery sunrise and shrank to dots. A little while later another group took off, then another, and for the next hour and a half the crowd on the sandbar slowly diminished. It was lucky for me that they left in shifts because I had plenty of opportunities for photos.

Although I’d come especially for the geese, there was an unexpected bonus display from a large group of knot that was murmuring like starlings over the water. The tiny waders climbed high into the sky, and each time they twisted back on themselves the sunlight caught their white bellies and the whole murmuration flashed like a torch. As the tide continued to sweep in, the knot were pulled further and further towards us until they settled on the receding sand and began to forage among the oystercatchers.

Eventually, all the geese had departed for the day, and an unseen distraction had frightened the knot back into the air, where they circled several times before settling far across the bay and out of sight. In a fairly short time, the thousands of birds and their incessant chatter had gone, leaving the bay smoothed over by silence.