I have visited Shetland on a number of occasions, but only in autumn or winter to twitch rare birds. My family always asked me what Shetland was like so we decided to have a family holiday there in the first week of July so they could find out for themselves. I too would be curious as I have never visited Shetland in the summer.
Here is the first tale of some memorable encounters, with my family, of Shetland's fabulous wildlife.
We decided to spend Tuesday travelling from our hotel on Mainland, the largest island in Shetland to the northernmost point in the British Isles which is Muckle Flugga, a small rocky island lying just off the northern coast of Unst, itself the northernmost inhabited island in Shetland. Muckle Flugga and its lighthouse are viewable from the imposing cliffs on the west side of Burra Voe and that form part of Hermaness National Nature Reserve.
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| Muckle Flugga and its Lighthouse viewed from Hermaness |
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| The former shore station now a Visitor Centre. Burra Voe is in the background |
Around its almost legendary name is interwoven a remarkable success story concerning one particular bird, the Great Skua or Bonxie to give the bird its Shetland name. In the eighteenth century it was a very rare bird and suffered so much from egg collectors that it was reduced to just three pairs in 1831 but the then owner of Hermaness, Dr Lawrence Edmondston, started a strict regime of protection and by 1891 at least twenty pairs were nesting, fully protected from the depredations of egg collectors by the employment of a 'watcher' to guard the skuas night and day.
The RSPB took over responsibility for the protection of the Bonxie in 1906 and now there are over 1000 pairs nesting on the moors of Hermaness, comprising 4.5% of the world population and forming the world's third largest Great Skua colony .
We went through the gated entrance to the huge reserve and found ourselves on a long and steeply winding track running through, in the lower stages, boggy stretches of peat, covered with rough grass and heather and seared with wide sprawling hags, where white tufts of bog cotton proliferated.The track merged into a boardwalk which we followed for almost two miles as it wound its way ever upwards towards the cliffs of Hermaness.
Here the drier ground was covered in mainly grass and heather with flashes of colour from the myriad heads of yellow buttercups. The only birdlife to be found were some singing Skylarks and, much more interesting as we reached the higher ground, a fair number of Bonxies flying around or stood in the coarse grass.
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| Hermaness NNR |
Seen close to they are impressively large, bulky, heavyset birds with a head that seems to me just a bit too small for its large slightly pot bellied body. They are a mottled brown colour all over with prominent white flashes on the outer extremities of the wings and with black feet and bill. The tail is also relatively short which somehow adds emphasis to its bulk. Both sexes look identical in plumage and really the only way to tell them apart is by their behaviour and in some cases the larger size of the male.
They flew around and above us, not in anyway concerned about our presence but later in the month they will be far less amenable, becoming much more aggressive as they will have eggs and young to protect. This will be the time when they will launch formidable attacks at anyone or anything they consider a threat. These attacks can be really fearsome and scary, the skua coming at speed straight at you from either low level or from behind and the bird only pulls out at the very last moment and often not before administering a severe clout around the head with its wings or feet.
They flew around and above us, not in anyway concerned about our presence but later in the month they will be far less amenable, becoming much more aggressive as they will have eggs and young to protect. This will be the time when they will launch formidable attacks at anyone or anything they consider a threat. These attacks can be really fearsome and scary, the skua coming at speed straight at you from either low level or from behind and the bird only pulls out at the very last moment and often not before administering a severe clout around the head with its wings or feet.
Today that was a worry for the future and as we ascended and got near the cliff edge the number of Bonxies increased dramatically and pairs were scattered as far as you could see over the extensive grass and heather moorland. Despite the sun there was a strong northwesterly wind blowing and some of the skuas plonked themselves down in the grass to be sheltered from the worst whilst others flew in pairs in the sky above.
Passing birds often elicited a display from a bird on the ground, where it stood and raised its wings to their fullest extent, arched its neck and pointed its head downwards whilst emitting loud barking cries. Presumably this was a threat display to tell the passing birds to keep away. It went on at regular intervals all over the moor, the raised wings betraying the skuas as they flashed their distinctive white patches in the sunlight.
Passing birds often elicited a display from a bird on the ground, where it stood and raised its wings to their fullest extent, arched its neck and pointed its head downwards whilst emitting loud barking cries. Presumably this was a threat display to tell the passing birds to keep away. It went on at regular intervals all over the moor, the raised wings betraying the skuas as they flashed their distinctive white patches in the sunlight.
One Bonxie landed right by me on the boardwalk, totally fearless and wandered across in front of me to its mate sat in the grass on the other side.They greeted each other with a display involving stretching their neck and head high, with breast puffed out and standing as tall as possible whilst circling close in a brief dance before separating.
Another male, judging by its size, landed next to its mate and promptly regurgitated a vile looking mixture of possibly dead fish and/or bits of seabird which she guzzled up with gusto. Ugh! They then sat content and in apparent complete harmony. The regurgitating of food is presumably a way of strengthening the pair bond as well as feeding up the female prior to her laying eggs.
Bonxies spend a lot of time on feather maintenance, seeking out fresh water in which to douse their feathers. Even the smallest of pools on the moor sufficed for this purpose whilst many others, up to forty or fifty, flew inland along Burra Voe to cross the narrow causeway we had driven along, to wash, bathe and preen in the Loch of Cliff on the other side of the causeway.
It truly was a spectacular experience to be so close to so many Bonxies and one that we all enjoyed.
But now it was time to move onwards and to make a short ascent up a gentle incline right to the very edge of the cliffs of Hermaness. I had heard how impressive they are but nothing can really describe the reality that met us on such a beautiful day of sunshine. From the top we looked down to a sea far below and stretching to the horizon. A sea of infinite shades of blue, so deep and intense it is impossible to adequately put into words. Ultramarine, cobalt, aquamarine, it was there in all its ever changing variety and hues.
This was the backdrop to a hundred thousand seabirds, twenty six thousand pairs of which were Gannets, flying on the wind in peerless grace, scattered across the ocean or perched on the large rocky islets far below. The numbers of seabirds presently here are truly staggering with the Gannets being the sixth largest colony in Britain and comprising 6% of the British population. Seven thousand pairs of Fulmars comprise 1% of the British total and are nationally important whilst almost four thousand pairs of Guillemots breed here and between twenty and thirty thousand pairs of Puffins form 5% of Britain's population.
It was also pleasant to not be part of a crowd and free of time constraints such as we experienced on The Farne Islands last month. Here we were free of any restrictions and saw precious few people so you could feel and enjoy the fact you were in a really wild place.
The height we were at was dizzying and that strange slight trembling feeling when looking down from a great height affected the back of my knees as, from close to the cliff edge I regarded the sea and rocks, all of 170 metres below.
My daughter loves Gannets but not even I had imagined what a magical encounter with them this would prove to be. They were everywhere, shining brilliant and white in the strong sunlight, cruising into the wind, passing us at head height and no distance from our spot on the cliffs, riding the updraughts of wind with consummate grace. We were so high up and so close it was almost as if we were flying with them.
Gannets are Britain's largest seabird and they passed us in an endless procession, hundreds and hundreds, like swirling scattered sheets of white paper strewn across the wide open airy spaces above the cliffs and sea. Some came so close it was as if they were looking at us, stalling and hanging in the wild wind shooting up the cliff face. Their tails were held at an angle with their large webbed and black feet dangling, acting as air brakes as they demonstrated a supreme mastery of their natural environment of sea and sky.
Fulmars too seemed to revel in the wind, but being smaller and lighter their flight was a roller coaster of heart stopping constant adjustments in the ever changing air currents. They were crazed joyriders on the wind, the birds barely managing to keep it together as they were hurled on the updraughts and currents of air, hither and thither, never once flapping their narrow outstretched wings but angling, flexing and constantly tilting them to keep from being dashed to their death. A closing of the wings by a fraction reduces the uplift and they descend at a dizzying speed towards the sea then extending their wings back to their maximum, held horizontal and stiff, they gain uplift and rocket skywards again, sheering up the cliff face to come level with the cliff top, then a slight closing of the wings once more, the primaries angled backwards to hold them steady for a suspended moment, dark eyes in smudged eyeliner surrounds regard me dispassionately, before they sheer off, down and away into the mass of birds below. Like anything that is supreme in mastery of the elements that are its home you wanted to shout out in exhileration and appreciation of such an exhibition of consummate flying.
Some Gannets passed by with clumps of grass in their hefty bills making for the colonies of their fellow Gannets on the rocky cliffs. The occasional sinister dark shape of a flying Bonxie stood out in this maelstrom of milling whiteness. They prey on the Gannets, fearlessly mugging the larger bird to make it regurgitate food from its last meal. Accompanying all this was a constant sound of cawing and growling coming up from the birds, mainly Guillemots, in their colonies far below us on the rocky outcrops.
We sat for a long time, right on the cliff edge, on the bright green grass cropped short by rabbits and sheep feeling the strong wind in our faces as it roared up and over the cliff face. It was too soon to leave as an infinite variety and procession of gannets passed like an endless newsreel before us. This was truly an extraordinary spectacle, one of utter heroic magnificence in its combination of topography and living birds and it made your heart sing with the joy of being alive at this special moment and sharing it with your loved ones.I wanted it to go on forever. A truly unforgettable experience.
Reluctantly we eventually moved on, there was more to see and we came to the main area of the cliffs where the Gannets were breeding in vast numbers.
Twenty six thousand pairs are estimated to breed here and we were looking at just a fraction of them. I sat myself in a small depression in the grass looking down and along the cliff edge where some Gannets were digging into the turf and grass, tearing lumps of it out of the soil for their nests. They balanced precariously on the tiny precipitous ledges and then, losing balance would just lift their wings to the air and allow the updraught to carry them like hang gliders away and along the face of the cliff, maybe to circle out to sea and then back, and with infinite grace to land once more on the ledges on huge webbed feet, the toes outlined a delicate shade of turquoise.
Seen close to, Gannets are very beautiful.The predominant white of their body and long wings is complemented by the shock of large black tips to the wings as if dipped in ink and their white head is imbued with a golden honey coloured suffusion. Their eye is not pale blue but almost grey, the impression of blue coming from a narrow circle of pale blue skin around the eye and the formidable weapon that is their large pale grey bill is defined by the thinnest of black lines running down its length. Most of the birds were adults but a few third and fourth year birds, that will not breed until they are five years old, were also present.
Who could not be moved by such a spectacle as this?
It truly was a spectacular experience to be so close to so many Bonxies and one that we all enjoyed.
.....................................................................................
But now it was time to move onwards and to make a short ascent up a gentle incline right to the very edge of the cliffs of Hermaness. I had heard how impressive they are but nothing can really describe the reality that met us on such a beautiful day of sunshine. From the top we looked down to a sea far below and stretching to the horizon. A sea of infinite shades of blue, so deep and intense it is impossible to adequately put into words. Ultramarine, cobalt, aquamarine, it was there in all its ever changing variety and hues.
This was the backdrop to a hundred thousand seabirds, twenty six thousand pairs of which were Gannets, flying on the wind in peerless grace, scattered across the ocean or perched on the large rocky islets far below. The numbers of seabirds presently here are truly staggering with the Gannets being the sixth largest colony in Britain and comprising 6% of the British population. Seven thousand pairs of Fulmars comprise 1% of the British total and are nationally important whilst almost four thousand pairs of Guillemots breed here and between twenty and thirty thousand pairs of Puffins form 5% of Britain's population.
It was also pleasant to not be part of a crowd and free of time constraints such as we experienced on The Farne Islands last month. Here we were free of any restrictions and saw precious few people so you could feel and enjoy the fact you were in a really wild place.
The height we were at was dizzying and that strange slight trembling feeling when looking down from a great height affected the back of my knees as, from close to the cliff edge I regarded the sea and rocks, all of 170 metres below.
My daughter loves Gannets but not even I had imagined what a magical encounter with them this would prove to be. They were everywhere, shining brilliant and white in the strong sunlight, cruising into the wind, passing us at head height and no distance from our spot on the cliffs, riding the updraughts of wind with consummate grace. We were so high up and so close it was almost as if we were flying with them.
Gannets are Britain's largest seabird and they passed us in an endless procession, hundreds and hundreds, like swirling scattered sheets of white paper strewn across the wide open airy spaces above the cliffs and sea. Some came so close it was as if they were looking at us, stalling and hanging in the wild wind shooting up the cliff face. Their tails were held at an angle with their large webbed and black feet dangling, acting as air brakes as they demonstrated a supreme mastery of their natural environment of sea and sky.
Fulmars too seemed to revel in the wind, but being smaller and lighter their flight was a roller coaster of heart stopping constant adjustments in the ever changing air currents. They were crazed joyriders on the wind, the birds barely managing to keep it together as they were hurled on the updraughts and currents of air, hither and thither, never once flapping their narrow outstretched wings but angling, flexing and constantly tilting them to keep from being dashed to their death. A closing of the wings by a fraction reduces the uplift and they descend at a dizzying speed towards the sea then extending their wings back to their maximum, held horizontal and stiff, they gain uplift and rocket skywards again, sheering up the cliff face to come level with the cliff top, then a slight closing of the wings once more, the primaries angled backwards to hold them steady for a suspended moment, dark eyes in smudged eyeliner surrounds regard me dispassionately, before they sheer off, down and away into the mass of birds below. Like anything that is supreme in mastery of the elements that are its home you wanted to shout out in exhileration and appreciation of such an exhibition of consummate flying.
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| Fulmar Petrels |
We sat for a long time, right on the cliff edge, on the bright green grass cropped short by rabbits and sheep feeling the strong wind in our faces as it roared up and over the cliff face. It was too soon to leave as an infinite variety and procession of gannets passed like an endless newsreel before us. This was truly an extraordinary spectacle, one of utter heroic magnificence in its combination of topography and living birds and it made your heart sing with the joy of being alive at this special moment and sharing it with your loved ones.I wanted it to go on forever. A truly unforgettable experience.
Reluctantly we eventually moved on, there was more to see and we came to the main area of the cliffs where the Gannets were breeding in vast numbers.
Twenty six thousand pairs are estimated to breed here and we were looking at just a fraction of them. I sat myself in a small depression in the grass looking down and along the cliff edge where some Gannets were digging into the turf and grass, tearing lumps of it out of the soil for their nests. They balanced precariously on the tiny precipitous ledges and then, losing balance would just lift their wings to the air and allow the updraught to carry them like hang gliders away and along the face of the cliff, maybe to circle out to sea and then back, and with infinite grace to land once more on the ledges on huge webbed feet, the toes outlined a delicate shade of turquoise.
Seen close to, Gannets are very beautiful.The predominant white of their body and long wings is complemented by the shock of large black tips to the wings as if dipped in ink and their white head is imbued with a golden honey coloured suffusion. Their eye is not pale blue but almost grey, the impression of blue coming from a narrow circle of pale blue skin around the eye and the formidable weapon that is their large pale grey bill is defined by the thinnest of black lines running down its length. Most of the birds were adults but a few third and fourth year birds, that will not breed until they are five years old, were also present.
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| Probable third year Gannet. Still with black in its plumage |
Who could not be moved by such a spectacle as this?
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