Imbolc and beyond

To you and me that’s halfway to equinox.

We were driving through Ardrishaig, returning from a beach walk, houses on the right, sea on the left, Tash on the phone to her mum. It was still light. When I glanced past her to the calm sea, a short moving line marked the surface twenty yards out; small head, body tapering to nothing; an otter.

We’d been cockling and have learnt to look on a beach of slightly muddy sand. It won’t be a surf beach, where you might find razor clams, but is more likely to be an estuary or perhaps a soft edge of sea loch, where some fresh water enters the briny, bringing some fine organic material and diluting the salt.

In 2020, soon after we first arrived, we heard of an osprey nest overhanging the road. Though the description was a bit vague, we managed to find it, but for our first two years it was empty. In the third year, ospreys appeared. Apparently they’d had a nest nearer the loch but were kicked out by a pair of white-tailed eagles. We went out in our kayaks, looking, but found no nest and no eagles. Two seasons in a row the ospreys raised chicks above the road. Now, after storm Eowyn, there is no nest. Over a metre wide and nearly as deep, it must have been a heavy and cumbersome sail, so I’m guessing its supporting branches snapped and it fell, more or less as one piece. We’ll go looking for the remains this weekend. Will the birds build a new nest or is the tree now unsuitable?

On Islay, over a long weekend with Tash, David and Zana, my birthday came and went. The weather was cold and bright and, out of the keen wind, the sun was warm. We wore two of everything and walked beside Loch Gruinart, distant surf breaking over the bar at its mouth, tide flooding in over the extensive sands. Ever sharp-eyed, Tash pointed out two large dark birds on the damp sand more than two hundred metres away, like big chickens we joked, as we settled into a bank of marram grass to eat our picnic and watch the white-tailed eagles through our binoculars. What were they doing? They just stood there. Their lack of white made them juveniles, and for half an hour we watched, until the rising sea put them to flight.

The sky over the far side of the loch was busy with a constant traffic of geese, skeins and flocks moving from here to there. Tens or hundreds of thousands overwinter on Islay every year, mostly barnacle and white-fronted geese from Greenland.

My birthday walk was on the Oa, where David’s parents used to farm. There were a few twite on feeders at the carpark but, after a brief inspection of David’s new deer-fencing, within which he’ll be planting native woodland, we headed down to a bay looking north to the Rhinns, seven or eight miles away across the mouth of Loch Indaal. Birdlife was distinctly absent, but there were a few common (harbour) seals dozing just clear of the water, and some feral goats up the cliffs and steep turf, with one or two young kids evident. In the fields we saw our first lambs of the year, not brand-new but already gambolling and frolicking as though on elastic.

After my birthday seals, we returned to Lagavulin for tea and the best chocolate cake (thanks Tash!), then stoked the chimineas to heat the coils to warm the whisky-barrel hot-tubs, where we soaked for an hour. When sufficiently softened, we came down the hill and were fed the most succulent roe-deer roadkill. David had cooked it slowly for eight hours in red wine. A birthday to remember. Thanks David!

The house: Last week Tash and I agreed a layout for the shelves on the dining-room side of the kitchen unit. Now I just have to build it well enough for it to look as clean and simple as the drawing, and on Thursday sunshine and milder air tempted me out to start work. Until I have cut the six-metre lengths into smaller pieces I must work outdoors, so am weather-dependent, especially as it’s the first year since beginning the build that I’ve not had chilblains. I want very much to keep it that way.

The planks weren’t straight when I brought them in from the barn, before Christmas. Two are banana-shaped (side to side), while the straight one kicks up at both ends. It’s no great surprise and is exactly why I brought the wood in. I’ll have to choose my cuts carefully.

For shelves I want smooth planks of the original warm colour that now lies under the rough-sawn and weathered surface – the first job for my new sander and some coarse abrasive paper.

Since the storm, rather more logs than I want to saw by hand have accumulated behind the workshop and, while some could be cut with my hand-held circular saw, most would be better cut with a chainsaw. After a couple of conversations and a bit of reading, I opted for a DeWalt cordless electric, as the reviews were good, my experience of the brand has been good and I have several suitable batteries.

I’ve yet to try the saw, saving it perhaps for the weekend, though the protective clothing arrived while we were on Islay.

I really think I’ve unearthed all the invoices that I can (oh, there’s another one…) and, as I’d like to complete and submit my VAT reclaim spreadsheet this week, I’ll do one last check then concentrate on the shelves.

Logging and bird-nesting can fill in the leisure hours…

Last eagle: On Tuesday, before leaving Islay, we had time for a good cycle ride, heading east from Lagavulin along the coast. Despite my electric bike, the first mile was alarmingly taxing, but from there on my body gradually woke and warmed up. Arriving at our destination, Claggan Bay, I discounted an overhead buzzard and admired the coast, until both Tash and David remarked on the size of the bird. It hung in the wind, disappeared and reappeared over the ridge and trees, and generally worked the immediate area as we watched. I lay on my back the better to view it, avoid a a stiff neck and hold my binoculars still. The eagle’s finger-like pinion feathers at the end of its wingtips were remarkably long and separate and its tail was highly mobile, like that of a red kite, busily twisting for control in the strong wind. Although most of the time it was a silhouette, from the proportions of its wings, shape of tail and overall ‘jizz’, I was certain this was a golden eagle, not its white-tailed cousin. In my recumbent position I could have taken some memorable photos, had I brought the camera and long lens on the bike ride, which I hadn’t. It didn’t matter. This was the best view any of us has had.

A great way to end the weekend!