Seeing twitchers in a whole new light

Bar-tailed godwits

BIRD twitchers mean different things to different people. They are the people who chase, or like to see (depending on one's interpretation) rare birds.

Some people go to great lengths to see such birds and there is a national set up of contacts through such means as websites.

At one time it was the grape vine, then letters or telephone calls where you can, if you wish, live in a different world as far as bird watching is concerned.

Unfortunately twitchers are often shown by the media and even some bird magazines in a poor light.

There are stories of birds being chased until they are exhausted and complete lack of respect for other birds, wildlife and for that matter other people.

Property can be damaged and stock disturbed and many other aspects that upset people. Such extremes are, fortunately, only by a small percentage of twitchers. However, whatever you think of them, they can add a great deal to our knowledge and understanding of wild birds.

One incident, as regards twitchers, in the Highlands brought this home to me, as it concerned some years ago a rare bird of prey on the north-west coast. It was very rare and, whilst I cannot remember which species, it does not matter, as it was the principle involved.

The area was flooded with twitchers and over the course of a few days there were more birdwatchers around Durness than ever before. Whilst they were there they picked up several other rarities simply because they and the twitchers were there.

It is an area, as with many other parts of the Highlands, where there are very few people "on the ground" to see such birds. The records had their place in the annual bird reports for the Highlands and, but for the twitchers, those important records could never have been included.

For me, last week there was a salutary tale about such birders, as I like to call them, and it was along the east coast from Inverness. I started in the bay at Burghead and sat looking at the waders that included one of my favourites, the bar-tailed godwit.

There is just something about these elegant birds, with their long legs and long almost straight beaks that attracts me. There were about 80 of them and they were in a flock with the majority asleep.

That is what you could actually see of the birds and all, apart from one, were fast asleep with their heads and long beaks tucked under their wings and standing on only one leg.

A single bird was still feeding in the shallows and showing just how elegant they can be. The lighting from the low winter's sun was magical, hence the photograph I took with the ripple of the water adding to the effect.

I then moved across the peninsular to look at the wintering eider ducks and hopefully might just see the drake king eider that has been there for some time.

It did cross my mind that this could have been taken as "twitching", so it is all relevant. Using the telescope I picked up the bird and words to describe it just did not come. It was undoubtedly the "bird of the year" for me and it only just crept in, as it was the last but one day of 2010!

It made one of those halcyon days that are few and far between. Then I noticed that up on top of the low hill to my left were a group of birdwatchers. Complete with massive and impressive telescopes they looked like dedicated twitchers.

They then moved down to the track in front of me and advanced towards our car.

I muttered that if any of them passed between where I was sat and the sea I would say a few choice words.

Lo and behold, two of them veered off from the pack and one stood in front of my telescope so I could not see anything. He then said: "Have you seen the king eider?"

They just wanted to make sure that, as I was obviously watching birds, I had seen the bird. I was so impressed at their consideration I was, would you believe, lost for words.

Intriguing bird is Highland rarity

THE bird of the week was, unfortunately, not mine but came from a reader who lives at Kildary in Ross-shire.

They had a water rail in their garden and I was envious simply because I find them so intriguing. Occasionally such birds, including others such as woodcock and moorhens, will turn up in the most unlikely places.

This is because the hard weather makes them desperate for food and, in the case of the water rail, to abandon their usually very secretive habits.

Over the many years I have seen very few water rails in the Highlands, although two stand out in my mind.

One was at Beinn Eighe one winter when I was sat in the reserve office on my own making a telephone call. Glancing out at the forecourt, a bird suddenly walked out from under a group of bushes, crossed the tarmac, and walked under more bushes.

It was the only record for the reserve of that species. In another incident I was picking sloes and for some reason glanced down at my feet and there was a water rail crouched on the ground. I just walked on and the bird never moved.

There are very few breeding records for the Highlands, and for the whole of Scotland there are only reputed to be 1,250 to 1,400 pairs, although this is almost certainly an underestimate.