WhoDunnet? Monday 12th June 2023

Whenever we're in Scotland we like to visit a seabird colony. Up until a few years ago we preferred to go to Handa Island for a day out but became tired of that trip for a number of reasons. So in recent years we changed our destination to Dunnet Head on the north coast. Dunnet Head is the most northerly point on the British mainland and the towering cliffs there hold impressive numbers of many types of seabird. The viewing isn't as good as it is on Handa, and I do miss the boat trip, but it's a lot easier to reach Dunnet Head and you're not bound to staying there for the duration while you wait for a boat to come and rescue you and take you back to the mainland. You also don't have to be lectured at length about what you can and can't do before being allowed out near the cliff edge.

Dunnet Head lies around 150 miles from where we were staying near Boat of Garten. The drive takes a little over three hours, primarily along the A9. We left early hoping to reach the cliffs by ten o'clock. The going was good, and we only stopped to scrutinise a low flying raptor which turned out to be a Red Kite and not the Hen Harrier that we'd hoped for. We pulled into Dunnet Bay just before ten and took the road through Brough towards the cliffs. We reached the turn to the Head and noticed a Road Closed sign. My usual practice is to ignore such signs and carry on until I either find the road actually open or if it really is closed then it's easy enough to turn around and find another route. 

The road was blocked completely by a council highways van parked across it. I pulled up alongside the van and wound my window down. I asked the chap sat in the van, how would I get to Dunnet Head. The answer was a curt, 'You can't'. I was temporarily gobsmacked and asked the chap what he meant. He said that the road was closed because of roadworks. Trying to remain calm, and partially failing, I told him that I'd just driven for three hours to visit the Head and now he was telling me that I couldn't go there. His reply had annoyed me ever so slightly. I asked about an alternative route, 'There isn't one' was the reply. I couldn't believe it and not trusting myself, turned my car around and sped off back the way I'd come. I pulled up in a siding and calmed myself, all the time cursing our luck, that we should choose a day when the road was closed. I checked Traffic Scotland's website and couldn't find any mention of the Dunnet Head Road being scheduled to close. So, against Mrs Caley's wishes, who wisely said that it was just bad luck and we'd just have to accept it, I drove back to ask the man in the van a few questions. The road was shut apparently because three days before a driver of a camper van had managed to drive over the foot of one of the men working on the narrow road. The man required hospital treatment and would be off work for sometime. The police were called and the outcome of their investigation was that the road should be closed whenever work was taking place upon it. So, between eight in the morning and five to five-thirty in the evening, there would be no access to the Head. The seabirds were off limits. I pointed out the fact that the road closure wasn't posted anywhere and was told that the road is actually owned by the MOD and they could do whatever they liked whenever they liked. The road was shut to traffic and that was it. We were welcome to walk the three and half miles each way if we really wanted to go. At that point I had to laugh. I'd have cried otherwise.

Luckily there are other options in the area when it comes to seeing seabirds. Much of the Northern coast of Scotland is blessed with high cliffs although most are remote and accessible only by walking many miles. For the less willing to yomp over miles of moorland, there is Duncansby Head near John o' Groats which lies around ten miles from Dunnet Head so we made our way there. Unfortunately many other folk had obviously had the same idea and the road up to the lighthouse was akin to an Oxfordshire highway, loaded as it was with other road users. The parking area was just a couple of camper vans short of chaotic gridlock, vehicles were strewn everywhere. Duncansby Head, on the face of it, looks very similar to Dunnet Head but it doesn't feel quite the same. I guess the road closure at Dunnet had deflated my balloon somewhat and I struggled to raise the enthusiasm as we walked along the clifftops. I tried to make the best of it however, and if you love Fulmars, as I do, then Duncansby Head isn't so bad because there are Fulmars everywhere. I'd never seen so many in one place before.

Fulmar (Fulmarus glacialis)

The cliffs house the usual species but they are more difficult to see owing to the viewpoints being less handy. We did find our first Razorbills of the year, along with Guillemots and Puffins. I resisted the urge to take loads more photos.

Puffin (Fratercula arctica)

Rock Doves were on the cliffs in good numbers. The consensus nowadays though is that in the UK pure Rock Doves are only found on Skye and on the Outer Hebrides but I was happy to add them to the year list. We had a day out scheduled to Skye later in the week so would hopefully see some "real" ones there anyway.

Rock Dove (Columba livia)

A Rock Pipit had a nest secreted right next to one of the busy footpaths. This could either be regarded as a wise decision because the presence of people would keep potential predators at bay, or an unwise one since the young in the nest wouldn't get fed so regularly. After watching the Pipit stood on a fence post noisily scolding everything and everyone that passed close by, I surmised that its mate must have been sat on eggs because the sentry wasn't interested in delivering any food yet.

Rock Pipit (Anthus petrosus)

Hooded Crows are handsome and intelligent birds. They are also, like the rest of their family, cunning and capable of much wrong-doing. The ones here appeared satisfied picking through the sheep pastures for insects and the like. When they have their own chicks then they will become more interested in other food sources. I added a few flight shots to my holiday portfolio although the heat shimmer of what had turned into a warm and sunny day on the cliffs didn't help at all.

Hooded Crow (Corvus cornix)

It was getting too busy for our liking and the carpark was in danger of disappearing under the sheer weight of cars, vans and motorcycles, so we chose to leave, we had to for our sanity. Crucially we hadn't had any sign of any Skuas, the birds we had most wanted to see on this trip so we headed back to Dunnet Bay and to the pier at Dwarwick feeling a little bit deflated. There we unpacked our picnic lunch and I erected the scope so that I could scan the bay. Instantly I noticed a Diver, a long way out, but clearly a large Diver species. It looked like a Great Northern Diver in non-breeding plumage except something didn't quite fit. Now, I admit that I'm not the best at identifying Divers in plumages other than full adult but I've seen quite a few juvenile Great Northern Divers and this bird lacked the obvious white notch that I always look for and that Great Northern's generally have. I checked my Collins App on my phone and realised that I was probably looking at a White-billed Diver. I looked back through the scope but couldn't relocate the bird. Knowing that it had probably just dived under the water, I waited for it to resurface, except it didn't. Somehow the Diver had managed to disappear. So, and because I was far from confident of the identification, I filed it as "one that got away".

Black Guillemots swimming in fairly close to the small pier were easy to see and identify. I like birds that are named as "it says on the tin" and Black Guillemots are just that, they are black and white and they are Guillemots. Mind you, what's a Guillemot supposed to do or look like?. And come to think of it why aren't they called Black and White Guillemots? Anyway they're smart birds and on good views they also have fabulous bright red feet and an equally bright red gape to the bill. There were as many as seven of the birds in the bay.

Black Guillemot (Cepphus grylle)

There were also (Common) Guillemots in the bay and I spotted one with a fish, striking much the same pose as one I saw from the Puffin Cruises boat on our trip to Coquet Island a few days before (see here).

Guillemot (Uria aalge)

 

We continued with our lunch, soaking up the beautiful surroundings as well as the fine weather. We had sat at this same spot in the winter once, when the conditions had been far less amiable, and had seen a Little Auk swimming fairly close in shore. This time I spotted a larger bird, it was another Diver, not the big hulking bird that I'd noticed way out in the bay earlier, but a much more slender Red-throated Diver which, judging by the fact it did a wing flap, had just flown in to the bay. I secured a quick record shot.

Red-throated Diver (Gavia stellata)

Another Red-throated Diver was slowly swimming into towards the pier. As it approached I could see that it hadn't quite developed into its breeding plumage, so it lacked the deep red throat, leaving it draped in a pattern of light greys. I walked back to the pier and made my way to the end where I would have the best view of the incoming Diver.

There was a train of buoys held together by ropes about thirty metres off the pier and the Red-throated Diver was quickly closing in on them. I've had a few close views of Red-throated Divers before but always in less optimal conditions so I was willing this bird to keep swimming towards me as I knelt on the pier half-concealed behind a concrete bulkhead. I attempted some restraint in firing off photos but it was difficult to resist.

Before it reached the buoys the bird dived and I waited for it to resurface. I fully expected it to reappear further out so when it popped up just ten metres out from the pier I was surprised to say the least. I beckoned Mrs Caley over so that she could enjoy the bird at close quarters as well. Now I set the camera into action. It's moments like this that make birding so exciting. A beautiful bird so unconcerned (or disinterested) by our presence that it goes about its own business so naturally. It's also why I love Scotland so much, the opportunities for encounters like this come along with much more regularity than at home in hectic Oxfordshire.

Red-throated Divers are one of those birds that I actually find tricky to capture on an image. The soft grey tones of the bird defeat the camera and resulting photos always seem to be a bit soft. There are other birds that give similar problems when photographing, Waxwings for example. At such close range though, I'm not complaining, the images will always serve as a memory of a wonderful fifteen minutes when just Mrs Caley and myself enjoyed watching a superb bird in a wonderful setting. Life feels good at times like that.

The Red-throated Diver drifted out into the bay again and was joined by a full breeding plumaged adult, presumably the same bird we saw earlier. The more striking bird refused to follow the others lead though and stayed frustratingly just out of reach for decent photos.

Incredibly the younger and less timid Red-throat swam directly in again. It was like it wanted close views of us as much as we did of it. I went and sat on the slipway next to the pier to get some more level views. However, that ploy was soon dashed by a couple walking down towards the water along with two boisterous dogs that plunged straight into the bay. The bird dived and the show was over. But what a show it had been!

We reclaimed our picnic table, not that there was anyone else around to challenge us for it. A pair of Wheatears had nested in a void created by rocks used for the construction of the jetty and we watched the protective parents taking food into the nest. By keeping a distance I could make out two quite well grown chicks waiting patiently for their next meal.

Northern Wheatear (Oenanthe oenanthe)

Being unable to visit Dunnet Head we decided to keep to the second part of our plan and drive back south through the Flow Country to look for other rare birds. Firstly though we stopped off at Melvich for a much needed coffee and the ideal accompaniment, an ice-cream. It was a warm day. and astonishingly the temperature was in the mid-twenties celsius by the mid-afternoon, which is very unusual for the top of Scotland. It was while sitting in the sun that I decided that because I'd come to the north coast specifically to see Skuas that we may as well wait for the road to reopen at five-thirty and go to Dunnet Head and grab our Bonxie year tick. There was still a couple of hours to wait though so we headed back to the pier at Dwarwick again and see if the Red-throated Divers were still in the bay. Little did we know that the very next morning a rare bird would be found just half a mile from where we sat (and we'd return to see it three days later).

The carpark at the pier back at Dunnet Bay was deserted now so we reclaimed our previous pitch. There was no immediate sign of the Divers but a few of the Black Guillemots remained although further out than before. A long way out in the bay, while scanning the hillsides opposite on the off-chance that an Eagle might be thermaling, I noticed two large Divers. By zooming right up to the maximum on my scope I then had a decent view of the two non-breeding plumaged birds. The first bird I scrutinised was clearly a Great Northern Diver. I had learnt a few good identification pointers by studying wintering birds at Farmoor over the last few years. There was a sharp notch cut into an otherwise dark half-collar around the neck and the bird held its head and large bill level to the water. Great Northern Divers look "tough", menacing almost, and this bird certainly looked impressive. I moved onto the other bird. Although superficially similar, there were differences. The bill and head were pointing slightly skywards in Red-throated fashion. But the bird was at least as big as the Great Northern Diver just a few metres away from it so it couldn't be the smaller species, and besides the plumage didn't fit. Crucially the neck lacked the triangular indent to the neck which was generally paler than the other bird. I knew that I had re-found the possible White-billed Diver, that I'd seen earlier. This time I was sure that I had the rarer bird.

It was only then that I remembered that a White-billed Diver had been reported in Dunnet Bay a few days before. I had obviously found the same bird independently. I checked BirdGuides and saw that there had actually been three previous reports of the bird. Somehow I hadn't collected and retained that information before travelling to Dunnet. If I had then I'd have made a beeline to the bay to look for it! Still, now I was sure that I had a White-billed Diver. My first ever and the 410th bird to make it onto my UK life list. 

Seeing a new bird obviously lends the observer a moment of elation. Finding your own rare bird is probably one the best birding experiences that there is, even if it's only a re-finding. However, when the bird is very distant and photography is futile, there is also a feeling of anticlimax. We all want the best views of birds, lip smacking ones, but of course that's not always possible. Two years ago I was shown a Sooty Shearwater at great distance while aboard the Ullapool to Stornaway ferry which felt a very underwhelming tick at the time. Luckily I went on to get great close-up views of another while on a pelagic trip in Falmouth Bay. Hopefully I'll go on to get a similar close view of another White-billed Diver one day. But for now, I'll happily take what I have!

At a little before five-thirty we left the distant Divers and proceeded to the road up to Dunnet Head. I was dismayed to find the road still blocked by the road workers van. I parked up behind a couple of other vehicles (camper-vans) waiting to go up and got out of the car. I was wary of engaging the worker again after the mornings shenanigans so I walked cautiously up the road and noticed a small white car, half on the road and half off it. The driver had clearly tried to drive around the van but hadn't been able to do so and had seemingly half run off the road. At that point I could hear raised voices and although intrigued, I thought that I'd stay well out of it. A chap walked towards us so I asked him if he knew what was going on. Apparently a couple, the occupants of the stricken car, had taken exception to being prevented from continuing up the road. They had taken their frustration out on the road worker and had actually smashed a side window and dented a door on his van. Then they'd gotten their own vehicle stuck while trying to drive round the van. The police had been called and nobody was moving until they arrived. So once again we were unable to drive up to the head. We decided to wait and see what happened though. The police did arrive and thankfully they quickly organised getting the car out of the way. When I saw the couple who had lost their heads, I was astounded. They weren't a day under eighty years old! And I thought I could be tempestuous. Despite their advancing years the pair had managed to cause considerable damage to the workers van. They must have been seriously annoyed to go to such extreme lengths.

It took another twenty minutes before the works van finally moved out of the way. Then the "work force" of just two had trundled down from their site in a small digger to get their lift home. Finally the road was clear. We passed the veteran vandals who were still be quizzed by the police and made our way towards the head. When we drove slowly along the narrow road we saw that the road had been shut so that a trench could be dug, apparently for new optical cables to the houses at the head. The trench wasn't even in the road but a few metres away from it. I wondered why they couldn't just operate a stop/go system and allow traffic to pass. At least that way there wouldn't be a smashed van window to repair.

Anyway we reached the carpark at Dunnet Head some nine hours after intending to. As if by magic the nice sunny warm day had morphed into a rainy cold one but I still leapt out of the car and raced to the viewpoint to finally add both Great and Arctic Skuas to they year list. Except that the cliffs and the skies above them were empty. Totally devoid of any flying seabirds apart from a few Fulmars. Not a Skua in sight. All that waiting had been in vain, there weren't any Skuas there at all. I couldn't believe my rotten luck!

On a serious note, the lack of Skuas was indicative of the massive problems that seabirds are facing in light of the outbreak of bird flu. So many birds have already been lost and it seems as if the Skua population is facing one of the biggest losses, presumably because of their predatory nature and they propensity to catch and eat stricken individuals of other species. One early report has suggested that up to ninety percent of  Great Skuas have died in the North of Scotland. Hence there are very few left around.

We drove home far later than we imagined we would. I felt happy that I'd found the White-billed Diver, and that we'd had outstanding views of the Red-throated Diver and other birds, but that joy was still a little soured by the lack of any Skuas and by the kerfuffle of a day that we'd had. If we visit Scotland again next year then I think we'll be putting Handa back into our itinerary again since the seabird populations there have been less affected by the bird flu virus. Fingers crossed it stays that way.

Year List additions;

246) Razorbill, 247) Hooded Crow, 248) Rock Dove, 249) White-billed Diver