Retrospective on Shetland - On the way North - 22nd September 2025

 

This year on my way north to Shetland I broke my journey at Mark's house in North Yorkshire. Mark, my long time twitching pal was going to join me on Shetland later, in early October   so the plan was for me to drive north with all his photographic gear in my car which I was taking on the ferry to Lerwick.Mark would follow by train to Aberdeen and come over on the ferry on October 4th.

As I was stopping overnight at Mark's house we thought a day's birding before I headed north would be in order so we made our way to nearby South Gare. Frankly it was not the most birdy of days but I wandered off onto the beach on an incoming tide to check out a growing roost of seabirds 

South Gare is a combination of former industrial infrastructure and still good habitat for birds with dunes and a huge sweep of sand stretching south to Redcar in the distance. It is an unlikely recreation spot but the sheer expanse of sand and sea still manages to impart that unique feeling of openness and isolation where one can forget the industrial landscape of Teeside that still dominates the skyline.

In mid afternoon I stood on the sands noting the gradual build up of shorebirds on the sand that was thankfully devoid of dog walkers or any sign of humanity.

The roosting birds were mainly Sandwich Terns and Oystercatchers, the latter's black and white bodies on bright pink legs forming a large dark shadow of loafing birds amongst which were scattered pristine white Sandwich Terns, robust hyperactive birds that will make their way to West Africa any day now

Checking the terns I found a much smaller tern stood incongruously amongst the Oystercatchers and for a moment was at a loss to identify it. Then the realisation came to me that it was a juvenile Black Tern. Not rare but an unusual find for here and one that gave me a pleasant feeling of personal achievement.

Beyond the roosting birds, where the sea met the sand, a line of surf white birds scuttled back and fore like motorised mice. Forever in motion they scuttled down the wet sand chasing the receding sea and then raced back up as the next wave headed shorewards. They were Sanderlings. Sociable birds that never like to be alone but always with others of their kind. They shuttled back and fore coming closer and closer as the tide advanced up the beach.

Eventually at a signal not known or obvious to me they ceased their hyperactivity, closed ranks and tucking short black bills into grey back feathers slept, but all the time  twisting on their own axis, forever keeping one eye open, on the alert for danger. 

I stood for an hour close but not too close to the resting birds and a sense of peace descended as we all stood waiting for the tide to reach its zenith and the rhythm of our markedly different existences to resume.