A Netherlands Spectacular 21st January 2025

c Richard Tyler

Monday the 13th of January and I was mulling over whether to join some of my twitching colleagues and go with them to Cornwall the following Friday in an effort to see a Booted Eagle that was showing well near Marazion. In all honesty, having  already seen one this year on the Berkshire/Oxfordshire border much closer to home, I was far from enthused about making a taxing, middle of the night drive to the far end of Cornwall. 

However the birding fates took a hand and any thoughts of eagles rapidly diminished when, later on that Monday much more sensational birding news arrived with my Birdguides app reporting a third winter, drake Spectacled Eider, in virtually full breeding plumage, being discovered at Oosterend on the island of Texel, which lies in the province of North Holland in The Netherlands.

It did not matter a jot that the bird was not in Britain. This was a must see. No question. An enigmatic and fabled duck that lives amongst the ice floes of the Arctic Circle and is rarely encountered south of there with even their wintering area remaining unknown until the mid 1990's. There was no denying that this was a bird that fired the imagination, one of romance that chooses to inhabit the vast. desolate northern extremes of our planet and to all extents and purposes remains an unobtainable dream for most birders.Now, sensationally here was a one and only chance of a lifetime to see a species that is normally only accessible with great difficulty, in Alaska and north east Russia.

I called my regular twitching mates who were planning to go and see the eagle on the weekend suggesting a change of plan but failed to raise much if any enthusiasm so.I called other colleagues but drew a blank there too as they had either already made other arrangements or had no space in their cars.

I was determined to go to Texel.and finally contacted Les, a world lister, who was ultra keen to go as he had never seen a Spectacled Eider and, getting on in years, was unlikely to unless he managed to see this bird. 

So it was that the two of us teamed up and I set about working out the logistics of getting to Texel and back in the shortest time possible. Neither of us fancied flying so the trip would be by car and ferry.Due to work and social commitments I could not get away until Monday the 20th. A long time to try the patience of the twitching gods but I had a feeling the duck would remain at Texel although the delay would inevitably bring the unwelcome prospect of enduring an anxious few days. There was however no alternative.

After some deliberation we opted to take a Stena ferry from Harwich as Les lives in Epping in Essex only some ninety minutes from Harwich. There was an overnight ferry on the 20th at 2230 that would get us to The Hook of Holland at 0800 the next morning. A two hour drive north to Den Helder would enable us to get another ferry that sailed every hour to Texel. The eider was at Oosterend, which is at the southern end of Texel and only a ten minute drive from the ferry terminal.We could have four or five hours with the eider before having to retrace our route in order to catch a ferry back to England that night.

However Stena insisted that once the bookings were paid for the money was not refundable so I opted to wait until Sunday the 19th before fully committing ourselves in case the duck disappeared.It has happened before!

So a tense wait ensued as each day we checked the Birdguides app and each day the eider was reported as present. My hunch was proving correct and our hopes rose as each day passed.

Looking at the images of the eider appearing on various social media outlets certainly did not help my equanimity. It was a stunner and equally fascinating were the images of the unprecedented numbers of people lined up on the seawall each day at Oosterend, coming to see the eider which had so caught the imagination of birders and non birders in such a big way. On Sunday the 19th of January it was estimated there were over a thousand people looking at the eider from the top of the seawall at Oosterend and it has arguably become the biggest twitch ever recorded in Europe with an estimated 6000 people having already come to view the eider from all over Europe and Scandinavia.

Monday the 20th arrived and the Spectacled Eider was still at Texel, so via the wonders of the internet I confirmed our bookings on the various ferries out and back, including overnight cabins and car, paid for our tickets and in the early evening collected Les and we made our way to Harwich. After navigating our way through the confusing and ill lit series of roads in the port we eventually found ourselves in a queue  of cars waiting to board the very large Stena Brittanica.

Once on board and having found our cabin in a maze of very long corridors we retired slighty dazed to the extensive and predominantly deserted restaurant area to gather ourselves for what was to come. Presumably, being off season the vessel was hardly full and after a nightcap we retired to a comfortable but basic cabin to sleep away the night.I could see no point in paying for anything more sophisticated  as for the most part we would be asleep.

Checking my phone  I  saw a text  indicating two good friends of mine, Duncan and Richard from the neighbouring county of Gloucestershire, were on the same vessel and also on their way to see the Spectacled Eider. I sent a message back and we arranged to meet the next morning in the ship's restaurant for breakfast.

Once off the ship, passing through Dutch immigration was quick and easy and with some trepidation I drove into the dark and very misty surrounds of the Hook of Holland. It's been a while since I drove in Europe so driving on the other side of the road, in less than good visibility and in the rush hour was not my idea of a stress free re-introduction to driving on the Continent but I was soon into the swing of things and we made good time heading  north as the dark of night receded. However as daylight increased I could see that the mist had failed to disperse and the flat Dutch countryside we drove through remained shrouded under a depressing pall of grey that reduced visibility considerably.

Already on edge coping with the driving conditions the added worry of the duck not being visible due to fog was to put it mildly, unwelcome. There was, however, nothing we could do but hope it would work out for the best. 

On arriving at Den Helder we just about made the 1030am ferry to Texel which was a bonus as we thought we would probably miss it and have to wait for another hour. Although the crossing is only around twenty minutes, the ferry vessel, owned by the islanders, is large and can take up to 300 vehicles and 1750 foot passengers at a time, although at this time of year it was only a third full if that.Boarding is also unique, as to save time two lanes of cars are boarded at the same time.Not something I have encountered before but it all went smoothly.

On driving off the ferry at Texel we made a ten minute drive to get to Lancasterdijk the road that runs  below and parallel with the bund that protects the inland low lying fields from the North Sea. We joined a line of cars parked along the road and getting our gear together walked up a series of steps onto the top of the bund and looked out to a cold, grey and choppy North Sea and a decidedly bleak and misty horizon.

Visibility was as they say in the Shipping Forecast - Poor.

It was cold too, a brisk wind blowing in our faces but primed with thermals we were well insulated.

Now for the main event.

Where was the  Spectacled Eider?

There were surprisingly few birders present where we stood at a point on the seawall called IJzeren Kaap (Iron Cape) and a couple of approaching Dutch birders indicated there was currently no sign of the eider but mentioned they had seen it fly in our direction. My spirits sunk but we got our scopes set up and looked out to sea as if we knew what we were doing.There appeared little out there but what else can you do but scan in hope of a miracle. 

We were joined by two other birders from England and after a few minutes one spoke two immortal words 

Got it!!!

A surge of adrenalin and mild anxiety consumed me

Where? I enquired

It's right in front of us but a fair way out.

I looked through my scope and at first saw nothing but sea, waves, mist and grey cloud.With no points of reference such as buoys it was impossible to get more precise directions.

Through my scope a bird came into view on the sea - Yes?

No - it was a Black necked Grebe which I told my new acquaintance about but where was the eider?

Here, look though my scope, that will give you some idea where it is

I looked and saw the eider riding up on the crest of a wave. It was closer than I had thought although still a good way offshore but at least I had seen it.

Then by utilising as markers a previously un-noticed series of poles sticking out of the sea  we narrowed down the area the eider was in and remained focused on it. Fairly far out I could still make out the salient features that identified it as a Spectacled Eider as it bobbed up and down in the waves.

Photography for now was out of the question as the eider was too far out and the conditions too dull.Instead I concentrated on just watching as it constantly dived, using its wings to propel itself under the water.

Over an extended and disjointed period as the bird came and went in the waves I saw its black wings, breast and underbody and white upperparts but it was the pale green head I concentrated on, noting the large white patches around its eyes, described as creating the impression of spectacles or goggles and giving the duck its name and unique appearance.Its  orange yellow bill was pretty natty too

It was no easy task keeping on it as it bounced up and down in the waves or disappeared underwater but helpfully it restricted itself to an area of a few hundred metres in length, offshore from IJzeren Kaap,and rarely moved far from there.

When it moved from one end to the other it precipitated a migration of twitchers, toggers and mildly interested public along the top of the bund to put themselves opposite it and we found that by anticipating in which direction it was headed we could position ourselves to intercept it as it arrived in front of us.

Duncan on the right with some of our Dutch friends

I estimate that there were probably no more than a hundred people present at any one time although there was a continual coming and going of folk

Gradually as the time passed the eider came slightly closer and I could admire the green on its head and those striking white circular patches around its eyes  It rarely associated with the two large rafts of Common Eider that were present but when it did get close to them I could see it was smaller and swam lower in the water.

We had arrived at around noon and had plenty of time to enjoy the bird before needing to head back to the Hook of Holland at 4pm. After an hour of feeding the eider settled to preen and idle on the sea but annoyingly was beyond my camera and lens' capabilities to do it justice, especially in the weather conditions and that is how it remained for the time we had available to spend with it.

Duncan and Richard joined us for the last hour or so and we togged away happily, chatting to the many Dutch birders who are invariably friendly, helpful and usually speak good English. Together we did our best to watch and take pictures of this ultra rare bird.

My photographic efforts can only be described as record shots but Richard with his more sophisticated equipment, returned the next day and his luck was in as the Spectacled Eider came close for a brief spell which allowed him to achieve some superb images before it flew back out to sea - see below.

My thanks to Richard Tyler for allowing me to incorporate his superb images (above) in my blog

Everyone was in no doubt about the uniqueness of this bird's presence and  I am certain this is what has precipitated such huge interest.It has featured on Dutch TV and various radio stations and people have travelled from many countries in Europe to savour this once in a lifetime event.

There are but five other records of this duck occurring in the Western Palearctic and all have originated from much further north. Three of these records are from Finnmark in  northern Norway and the remaining two are from Svalbard, including the last time it was recorded, which was in 2012. 

Spectacled Eiders conduct their lives in areas largely inaccessible to man or rarely visited and to have a chance to see them one would have to travel to Alaska and specifically Utqiagvik formerly known as Barrow. This individual off Texel is by some margin the furthest south that one has ever been recorded and for it to be found so far south of the Arctic Circle as The Netherlands is unprecedented

Spectacled Eiders breed on the coasts of Alaska and north eastern Russia and winter exclusively in gaps in the sea ice of the Bering Sea. Until 1995 their moulting and wintering area was unknown giving them an enigmatic reputation but it is now known that they head for sheltered areas of the Bering, Chukchi and Beaufort Seas to moult out at sea before going to their wintering areas further south in the Bering Sea.

How on earth this individual has ended up at Texel is beyond comprehension.and for sure no-one will ever find the answer.Whether it will find its way back to the Arctic is yet another conundrum. In my more fanciful moments I ponder if it will maybe find its way to our side of the North Sea. The resultant twitch would be equally impressive as the one currently at Texel.

That time came when we felt we had seen enough of the eider and anyway the weather had begun to deteriorate. With an hour to spare before we had to head south we went with Duncan and Richard, who were staying for  another day, to explore the hinterland of waterlogged grass fields and flashes of water behind the seawall. Richard was keen to find a Black Brant that had recently been reported amongst the flocks of Dark belled Brent Geese feeding on the fields, so after enjoying some very nice Welsh cakes made by Duncan's wife we went in convoy to have a look.

There were a couple of thousand Dark bellied Brent Geese scattered over the fields and we drove around various tracks to view the flocks, spaced over a fairly large area. At first we drew a blank although I found a couple of Greenland Whitefronts but eventually Richard located an adult Black Brant amongst its commoner companions and I followed up with a couple of Pale bellied Brent also amongst the flock The brent flocks also harboured a small number of Russian White fronted Geese and the inevitable Greylags and Egyptian Geese.

We bade our farewells to Duncan and Richard and had a quick look at some areas of water alongside the road further west. A varied assortment of ducks such as Wigeon, Pintail, Shoveler and Teal were on the pools and a nice flock of Avocets sheltered under a bank but best of all were seven Spoonbills, one of which obligingly fed in a water filled ditch right by the road.

Our time at Oosterend had by now run out and we needed to go, so there was no time to look further for the reported Tundra Bean Geese and male Smew.

Maybe there will be a next time.

Postscript

The Netherlands has been a productive source of 'good' birds for me over the years

There has been ......................

A Hawk Owl at Zwolle in November 2013   

A Pygmy Owl at Lettele in January 2014

A Siberian Rubythroat at Hoogwoud in February 2016

A Slender billed Nutcracker at Wageningen in January 2019

And now a Spectacled Eider in January 2025

What will be next I wonder? 

 

Black Redstart in Oxford 12th January 2025

On a dull Sunday with the temperature at last rising above freezing although remaining markedly cold I was at a loose end. It was too cold to do anything in the garden and the weather was dreary, a shroud of heavy grey cloud had sunk over the land, oppressively pressing downwards and feeling slighty claustrophobic 

I decided on a trip to Christchurch College, part of Oxford University in the heart of the city, to try my luck with a male Black Redstart that has been reported from there since before Christmas, virtually on a daily basis   Today was not exactly the ideal weather conditions to take any photos but I was desperate to get out of the house and feel occupied. 

The Black Redstart was a first winter male which rendered it more colourful than the more usual drab brown individuals that are either females or sometimes also first winter males. Confusingly young males can often not adopt the attractive male plumage until their third year while others such as the one I went to see in Oxford do so much earlier.

The male's plumage is a pleasing mix of black and mainly grey- the body and head grey  with a blueish caste, face and chin black, contrasting with rufous orange tail feathers that are only visible when the tail is spread - this striking and colourful feature gives rise to the second part of its name

A half hour drive to the city outskirts brought me to the Peartree Park and Ride where I was able to leave the car and courtesy of my free bus pass take a bus into the centre of the city. Parking in Oxford these days is a nightmare and very expensive, even on a Sunday. Far better to use the bus which is frequent and quick and less taxing on one's stress levels.

Getting off the bus in the city centre it was a fifteen minute walk through the crowded streets, past the Town Hall and thence to turn off into the Broad Walk with Christchurch Meadow on one side and the imposing Meadow Building, constructed in 1862, on the other side and frequented by the Black Redstart which has made this superlative structure of honey coloured stone and immense history, its winter home

The part of the Meadow Building favoured by the Black Redstart.
Note the vine clinging to the wall

As  usual there were tourists from many lands and visitors aplenty and I wondered if this would pressage the absence of the redstart. I need not have worried as the one other birder present told me that the redstart was showing quite well, unphased by all the passing human traffic and appearing on the 'Building' facing us  about every twenty minutes.It was apparently favouring one  of the stone balconies in particular or the ancient vine that clung to the wall..

A fifteen minute wait brought due reward when the Black Redstart appeared not on the 'Building' but on the railings on the other side of the Broad Walk.. It then flew up into a tree and from there back over to the 'Building' and fluttered around the vine, picking off berries.

This was fortuitous as it provided an opportunity to see the tail spread in all its orange glory as the bird clung somewhat precariously to the thin stems of the vine.

It then, in stages flew up the face of the Meadow Building to the very top of thc roof and was gone. 

We stood and waited for the next appearance. Standing conspicuously in the open with many tourists passing or milling around had me feeling  more than a little self conscious and some people obviously were curious as to what I was looking at but never actually felt able to enquire while others, I am sure thought I was simply admiring the building although taking a rather long time in doing so!

The Meadow Building has featured in the Harry Potter films and a young Japanese lady passed me humming the theme tune,. we smiled at each other in mutual recognition.  Other couples stood in front of the building and took photos of themselves  or of the ancient 'Building'. It was never ever quiet.

 

I stood my ground as time passed slowly and ever more visitors walked by.me

Then the faintest flick of movement caught the corner of my eye, signifying the return of the redstart. Its tiny dark form dwarfed into insignificance against the huge stone walls as it flew from perch to perch on the balconies and buttresses. 

It fed and behaved very much like a Robin, bobbing up and down, flicking tail and wings with nervous energy and then flying to seize any prey it could discern. It seemed to be finding enough to eat, picking off unappetising shrivelled berries from the vine or chasing after spiders and insects on the window panes and stonework.

It was gone again in five minutes and I resolved to wait for it to return one more time and then take my leave. It took quite some time but eventually the redstart reappeared, not on the 'Building' but on the ground at its base.So unexpected I nearly missed it. Hopping along it fed from the grass and pebbles and then flew up onto the vine and gradually progressed ever higher until it once more disappeared around the back of the 'Building'.

Up until now no one had asked or troubled me about what I was doing but then a beadle approached me complete with bowler hat (remember Porterhouse Blue by Tom Sharpe anyone?) and enquired what I was looking at and photographing.I told him about the redstart and he told me that the students were returning to the college today and could I ensure I did not point bins or camera at the windows. It was all perfectly amicable but it took the gloss off my enjoyment  and I felt uneasy and was glad to leave,

Birding in situations like this is always fraught with the potential for misunderstanding.

A Winter Warbler 9th January 2025

A Yellow browed Warbler has, since before Christmas, been spending its winter days feeding on the ground beside the lake at Frampton Court, Frampton on Severn, Gloucestershire and giving exceptionally close views.

I was away in Scotland when it was first found but daily reports from birders going to pay homage kept me enthused and it became obvious that the bird was likely to remain there for the winter. If its continued presence was not incentive enough to go and see it the fact it was highly approachable, ridiculously so and  for the most part feeding on the ground in one small area, presented an almost unique opportunity.

I decided that should it still be there on my return home I would go and see it.After all it was only an hour's drive away and how often can one get really close to a Yellow browed Warbler for an extended period?

We arrived at Frampton Court around lunchtime and making our way down a lane from Frampton village we crossed a stile and ventured out into the open parkland of Frampton Court with its scattered trees of varying sizes and the lake beyond.

We were aware that the warbler had slightly changed its feeding habits in the last few days by leaving its regular spot by the lake and beginning to range further over the parkland although still choosing to feed on the ground.

There were a couple of other birders wandering around fairly aimlessly when we arrived but on enquiring of one we were told the warbler had been seen only ten minutes ago but was ranging from various isolated areas of dead vegetation under the small trees.We were shown where it was last seen but now, of course  there was no sign of it

This small patch of withered and cut stalks, leaves and grass below the small tree was the warbler's chosen place to feed. When it had thoroughly examined the whole patch it would fly to another  patch similar to this one

As nobody currently knew where it was we checked the various favoured areas it had been reported from, more in hope than expectation. We knew it was definitely here so all we had to do was find it - a tiny, dull green bird hardly bigger than a Goldcrest, feeding on the ground amongst dead vegetation - no problem then!

For fifteen minutes there was nothing to show for our efforts. I walked towards another small tree with a circular patch of dead vegetation and grass below it and detected a tiny movement amongst the tangle of leaves, stalks and blades of grass. 

It could almost be a mouse but no, it was the 'yellow browed' flicking in and out of the jumble of  aforesaid dead vegetation. A tiny bird superficially similar to a Goldcrest in size but with a plumage that was much more varied, pale lemon yellow stripes and bars breaking up  its predominantly moss green upperparts and the yellow brows  (supercilia) prominent across each side of its crown.I was also taken with its orange feet and legs, something you do not get to see that often as these hyperactive sprites are usually zipping about in trees.

It was forever active, never stopping feeding for a moment, hopping in and  out amongst the litter of vegetation at ground level, picking off tiny invertebrates from the stalks and leaves. It was relentless in its searching and judging by the microscopic size of its prey it had no option but to keep feeding this way in order to survive.

As far as I could see it was in excellent condition and the severe cold weather so far had not inflicted any adverse effect on its well being. Maybe its tameness was a result of it having to balance the need to feed constantly against a wild bird's innate caution.Conversely, coming from the vast forests of Siberia it may never have seen a human before and as a consequence felt no fear of its human admirers.Whatever the reason its behaviour was far from normal.

I have never been this close to a Yellow browed Warbler before, even on Shetland where they are now almost common in autumn. Individual birds are now wintering in Britain on an annual basis and it is a growing trend for a number of these tiny Siberian gems to be found in Britain during our winter.Today for instance there were reports of individuals in Glamorgan, Hertfordshire and Devon as well as this bird at Frampton and in previous years I have seen birds in winter in both Sussex and Norfolk.

It is thought that a genetic defect in the bird's compass results in it migrating northwest which is in the opposite direction to where it normally would go to winter in southeastern Asia. A process labelled reverse migration. However it does not quite explain why more and more of these tiny birds are heading in our direction, the numbers increasing year on year each autumn.

We continued watching it hopping in and out of the stalks, dead leaves and grass - no blade or stalk remained unexamined and when it had satisfied itself that there was nothing more to be found it flew low and fast across the open ground to another similar patch and the ceaseless search for food began all over again.

We decided not to follow.

The next day the warbler could not be found in any of its usual places despite thorough searching.Last night was one of the coldest on record and I fear the worst in that it may have succumbed to the cold.

Christmas Lights and a New Year Otter 2nd January 2025

As is our custom myself and Mrs U spent Christmas and Hogmanay in Scotland. By way of a change we opted to forgo staying on our favourite Isle of Arran and rented a cottage on the mainland at a place called Arduaine (pronounced Ardoony) which is a collection of a dozen or so houses by the shores of Asknish Bay in Argyll on the west coast of Scotland.

The cottage, elevated on a bank from the road had a large picture window that overlooked the bay and from here, through my telescope I was able to watch a pair of White tailed Eagles perched on a distant islet out in the bay. What more could a birder ask for?

Being Scotland the weather was, as expected, dull, wet and for the first few days of our stay extremely windy although strangely mild. Cosied up in the cottage, with the elemental sound of the wind roaring in the trees that rose up the steep hillside behind us we were happy to sit and admire the view with a log fire and a coffee or two for company. Later of an evening, it being dark by 4pm, came a welcome single malt whisky.

With Christmas over the weather changed, becoming markedly colder.and with the cold front came welcome but weak sunshine, something we had begun to feel we would never see. It's all very well feeling snug and secure in the cottage but there are only so many books you can read and with the arrival of the sun I began to get restless and felt an ever increasing urge to get outside.

This prompted us to drive to a nearby small village called Ardfern and beyond there walk along a deserted single track road for a mile to where the land met the sea at a point called Craignish. Scotland in the depths of winter in this wild and rugged landscape could not but inspire. The vast loneliness of land and sea created an intense feeling of place, a homeland where the heart is imbued with the myth and magic of this ancient and timeless land that makes you want to linger as if touching, however faintly, a sense of history and ancestry 

Out across a distance of cold grey sea and desolate fingers of land the snow covered and irregular peaks of the mountains and hills of Mull shone like icebergs below an pale blue sky in the late afternoon's golden sunlight. The only sounds that broke the silence were the harsh calls of Hooded Crows and Ravens, looking suitably sinister perched in the bare winter trees and occasionally the supernatural sound of a Great Northern Diver calling, far out on the sea and come here from Iceland to spend the winter.

We lingered, reluctant to leave on a day such as this which is all too rare in Scotland.A day insisting that every last minute be savoured as if it is the last.

One final joy of surprise came when driving back to Ardfern a grey bird flew over the saltmarsh. A gull? No, it was a male Hen Harrier, uniform dove grey of body, head and tail with a gash of white rump feathers marking the join of tail to its slim body. It circled the marsh once, hovered with yellow legs dangling then flew before us across the road and up above the trees to disappear over a hillside. It was impossible not to feel a sense of elation at encountering this beautiful, rare and sadly much persecuted bird. Our day could not be more complete.  

I have my obsession with birds and Mrs U is equally obsessive about the Aurora Borealis or Northern Lights as they are also called and for two nights when the sky was clear there was a major alert about the Aurora being highly visible across much of Scotland.

Situated in almost the middle of a mountainous nowhere, we were in the ideal location as there was no artificial light of any sort around us just the dark, slightly forbidding mass of a pine clad hillside behind the house and the invisible black presence of the sea in front.

Mrs U. not to be deterred  took to a track in the ink like darkness behind the house and ventured up the hillside when the aurora was at its peak, and below are some of the results she achieved as the spectacular show spread far and wide across the firmament.

But you ask why is this blog titled as it is and especially about otters or an otter to be precise.Well  at the end of our stay at Arduaine we were invited to spend four days with friends who own a house on The Isle of Mull. Their house is situated by the single track road on the Ross of Mull that leads to Fionnphort where you get the ferry to nearby Iona.

The views from the house on its elevated position a couple of hundred metres from a sealoch going by the name of Loch Scridain  are spectacular. 

,

On the opposite side of the loch the land rises up to the distant majesty of peaks, white with snow, while below the burnt sienna colour of dead bracken and moor grass covers a terrain that undulates down to the loch's cold and stony shore.

Sat at breakfast looking out over the loch my wife remarked There's an Otter.

Sure enough it was swimming up the loch just offshore. Our hosts watched with amusement as I grabbed my bins and camera, struggled into warm clothing and boots and rapidly departed round the side of the house and down to the loch shore.

At first I could see no sign of the Otter and was perplexed at how it had disappeared so quickly. Familiar with the ways of Otters from many encounters on Arran I walked some way along the road in the direction of where the otter had been swimming. It could now go two ways, either the otter had been returning to its holt or was continuing its fishing. If it was the former there would be little to no chance of seeing it again.

I was in luck as I caught a glimpse of the Otter now diving for food in the loch. still only a little way from the shore.I was standing on the road and by judicious stealthy movements slowly made my way off the road, through some gorse bushes and down onto the rocky shore, getting as close as I dared. It was a process fraught with anxiety as at any moment the otter might catch sight of me or catch my scent as due to the wind's direction and the location I had no choice but to remain upwind of it.Every time it dived I scuttled to the next rock or bush that would conceal my profile and get me closer.When the Otter surfaced I remained immobile. Once it was underwater I moved as fast as possible  to the next suitable place of concealment.

The light at this time in the morning was still dull and there was little time to check camera settings apart from when it was underwater. A first the images appeared too dark but jacking up the ISO I got better results. All this having to be achieved in a matter of seconds and.with only partial success.

The Otter dived and surfaced, obviously eating something then it dived again and continued doing so for some minutes. Personally I find photos of otters swimming unsatisfactory as all you see are a head, its back and sometimes tail as it swims low in the water.

I duly took some images of it swimming but was hoping that it would come out onto the rocks.Otters when they catch a large prey item often feel it is  easier to subdue on land and will make for the shore and then, if you are fortunate you can get shots of the whole animal while it is eating its prey.

For some minutes the Otter carried on diving and eating in the water but then to my intense pleasure swam towards a rock, subsumed under a thick matt of wet seaweed and clambered out.It did not have any prey to consume and it became apparent it was intent on a bit of fur grooming. It revelled in rolling on its back and squirming like a tickled child in the seaweed and then righting itself would lick its fur and attend to whatever part of its body it considered required attention.

The Otter continued rolling and slithering on its bed of rubbery seaweed appearing to be thoroughly enjoying itself. Ten minutes of bliss passed for both myself and the Otter before it rose and scent marked its place on the seaweed before creeping down to the water and sliding in, swam further out into the loch where.I lost sight of it behind some rocks. 

I ran back up the shore to the road and then down the road for fifty metres in the hope of intercepting the Otter as it swam onwards but there was no obvious sign of it.

I then, in my haste, made an error of judgement as I was no longer partially concealed or with a dark background of gorse to reduce my outline. I saw the Otter very briefly but it must have seen me.

Otters when alarmed will dive unobtrusively and swim for many metres underwater away from perceived danger and even when they surface will only show the tiniest part of their hesd checking if all is clear

The last I saw of it was a nose and part of its head surfacing ever so cautiously in the middle of a floating patch of seaweed and then just as cautiously sinking down again without a ripple.

It was over in a couple of seconds and I never saw the Otter again.