Am Bratach No. 217
Whatever turns you on, I suppose. “Look over there. He is near the back, beside the grey stone. He is scratching his head just now. No not that one! He is slightly smaller than the rest and he has dark legs. Oh look he has just stretched. Can’t you see?” It was starting to rain and everyone was tired. “No wait, wait he has come all the way from Alaska — you will probably never get another chance to see a Sabine’s gull in your lifetime”. But people were drifting away. I guess standing amongst the other gulls on Stoer beach, to most folk he was just another gull. An average of about 120 Sabine’s Gulls are seen in Britain each year, but this autumn seems to have been exceptional — perhaps because of all the strong westerly gales. To a bird watcher he was special, to a twitcher he would have been a good tick. I do not consider myself a twitcher but when a rare bird lands on your backdoor step… My friend was over in Orkney recently at the time when the Sandhill Crane miraculously appeared in South Ronaldsay. I am sure you remember. There were several hundred twitchers that came from far and wide to see that one. It was only the third ever recorded in Britain and normally lives in the plains of North America. “Have you come to see The Bird” locals kept asking my friend. Without a gaggle of cameras, binoculars and telescope around her neck it should have been obvious she was not one of them. On the way home she got to talking to some of the birdwatchers. One small car load of fanatics had only just managed to catch the ferry. “What did you think of South Ronaldsay”, she asked them. “Oh it was great, but we only had twenty minutes” they replied. They had driven up from Sunderland, got the ferry over to the island, ticked the bird, got a stunning photo, so close you could see the bewilderment in the bird eye and managed the catch the return ferry with minutes to spare. Now that is dedication. At least it was a stunning bird to go and see. My experience is that most rarities all seem to have one thing in common: they are all small, brown and skulky. But a Sandhill Crane is a bona fide “crippler” — tall, exotic and colourful. In other words, a real pin-up poster for bird-watching anoraks. As I said, I do not consider myself a twitcher but I can speak the language. I will even admit going a short distance to see a bird and even worse I admit to having tried pishing. To the uninitiated, it is a well recognised way of attracting skulking birds out of a bush so you can identify them, by putting your lips together and going “Pish! Pish! PISH!” long and loudly. You can also try the more namby-pamby kissing-the-back-of-your hand alternative but depending where you are, you are likely to get lynched. I have seen a grown man going red in the face with hyperventilation after ten minutes of pishing and mine going red with embarrassment. But it kind of works. In America (remember: land of the Sabine’s gull) many of the top birding sites come with a sign: “Please keep pishing to a minimum.” Now that is a sign I hope we don’t see in Stoer. Sutherland’s interior can
be a harsh place in winter. A bird-watcher can walk all day in
splendid surroundings and might see only a hooded crow or a wren.
Ask anyone who is helping the BTO survey tetrads for the 2007-11
Bird Atlas. But late autumn passage can be very exciting. So
keep a look out.
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