One good thing - 31st March 2020

Just across from our house a group of Rooks (Corvus frugilegus) have built nests in the upperworks of a Scots Pine tree.  We've watched these fascinating and characterful birds in flocks through the winter, then as they re-established their pair bonds - one particular pair use a tree in our garden to display to each other; they are an obvious pair and it's possible to distinguish male and female by appearance as well as behaviour.

The birds usually nest in early February but were held back by the series of violent storms which crossed the UK.  Things are well underway now though, and today we thought that we heard the first higher pitched "caah" of a tiny young Rook...new life emerging.

One good thing - 29th and 30th March 2020

With the change to British Summer time early on Sunday 29th March, the evenings seem so much brighter and lighter.  Whilst we have to spend evenings at home, longer evenings are a boost.

One good thing - 28th March 2020

Today, many good things combined in one good thing on a longer walk (though still directly to and from my back door) on the Correen Hills.

A searing northerly wind with temperatures most definitely in winter values.  Being able to stride out on the broad ridge, constantly changing light.

Being alternately in bright sunshine which belied the knife-like wind, then cringing through stinging batterings of hail and snow.  Having to crouch with my back to the worst of the squalls. Being intensely grateful for every single minute of it.

One good thing - 27th March 2020

There was really no doubt about the highlight of this day......

As the evening drew in, we sat out in the garden to watch the light fade.  A Blackbird tried out his song phrases, clear toned and carrying in the clear, cold air.  After a run of overcast days the sky cleared to give the most marvelous view of a bright new moon with the brilliance of Venus directly above.

As the local dialect has it, this was "the aald moon in the arms of the new 'een"....absolutely beautiful.

One good thing - 26th March 2020

In the field opposite our house, a neighbour makes an investment of hope for the future, as he's done year after year, by sowing barley for the late summer harvest.

One Good Thing - 25th March 2020

While it's still OK to take one form of exercise outside the home each day I've been walking for an hour or so after working at home.  On an overcast and cool day thee wasn't too much colour about, but I was just thankful to be healthy and to be out in the fresh air for a short while.

Today's good thing was another plant; along the banks of Aberdeenshire's River Don the last of the clumps of Snowdrops (Galanthus nivalis) are still in flower, a delicate seeming yet tough splash of late winter brightness.

One good thing - 24th March 2020

The world has become a very uncertain and insecure place.  The COVID-19 Coronavirus affects all of us as it begins to spread among the population.  In an effort to slow the rate of transmission, restrictions on movement and normal patterns of life have introduced which would have been simply unthinkable a few short weeks ago.  We all have to adhere to these restrictions and to hope that our National Health Service has the capacity, resilience and support to minimise loss of life.

It would be very easy to slip into a state of negativity and of fear; I'm determined to try and avoid that if at all possible.  So, to help in maintaining some personal balance, I'm going to try to do one positive thing each day and to find one good thing about each day wherever I can.  This small blog normally features some of the more remote and spectacular part of Scotland but that's not going to be the case for some time.

Today's "one good thing" was the bright clump of miniature Daffodils (Narcissus sp) which have flowered at the base of a wall in our garden.  Just a few inches tall, they were originally in a pot - but have done really well.  Much earlier than the larger Daffodils, they're a cheeful sight - which is welcome.

Treecreeper on a tree

I've been lucky enough to have enjoyed some really great wildlife encounters in Scotland, some of which have featured here on the blog.  Multiple White Tailed Eagles, incredible dolphin encounters and huge numbers of Grey Seals  all fall into the "spectacular" category.  But, fascinating wildlife encounters are also to be had on a much smaller scale.

On a regular walk near the village of Monymusk we'd noticed that a number of small depressions in the bark of several Sequoia or Wellingtonia trees Sequoiadendron giganteum) at about two to three metres height.  Having recently read Sir John Lister Kaye's "Gods of the Morning" I suspected that I knew what had made these depressions, but to be sure we had to return after dark.

Sure enough, tucked tight in against the bark of one of the trees was a tiny ball of fluff and feathers - a roosting Treecreeper (Certhia familiaris).  Not just one either; there were two birds roosting on the first tree we came to and two more on a tree just ten metres away.  These tiny, unobtrusive birds gave us a really intimate glance into their lives; to avoid startling them we used a head torch on low power rather than the camera flash to illuminate them, none of them seemed to notice us at all.

Wellingtonia bark is very soft and fibrous and Treecreepers have discovered that they can easily excavate roosting sites which are roughly egg shape and size into the trees.  The choice of height appears to be fairly consistent, and also convenient for observing them.  Thermal images of the trunks of these trees shows them to be significantly warmer than the surrounding air and woodlands after dark and the birds take advantage.

Wellingtonia trees were first planted in Britain in 1853, so they're a fairly new opportunity in evolutionary terms.  What fascinates me is - how did Treecreepers first discover they could excavate roost sites in the trees - they don't seem to use other species of tree in the same way, opting for natural fissures and loose bark.  Even more fascinating is how this knowledge propagated through generations of Treecreepers - the birds live for approximately two years, so if Wellingtonia are roughly 150 years old then that's roughly 75 Treecreeper generations.  Given that these endearing little birds seldom move more than 500 metres from where they hatched, and the distance between individual Wellingtonia trees, it's unlikely that the knowledge of how to use them spread so rapidly from individual to individual and yet use of Wellingtonia for roosting is widespread in the UK.  Maybe it's an inbuilt trait in Treecreepers, or learned in some way - I'd love to know more!