A Diver and a stampede

It’s dull here on Westray today, but when I get a WhatsApp group message that there’s a report of a Black-Necked Diver family of two adults and two youngsters off Mae Sands I just have to get out there to see them. I haven’t unpacked yet, as I’ve just arrived, and I’m still wearing shorts and sandals from my journey from South, but I’m going out as I am. This is a twitch.

I have a rucksack with a tripod and accessories, a pair of binoculars around my neck, and a large camera with telephoto lens to carry down the sandy track to the gorgeous beach. It begins to drizzle, but the sort of drizzle you have when there’s an intense blustery wind. I scan the sea with my binoculars and then tuck them in my coat.

There are three Great Northern Divers out there together with a Common Guillemot. Oh well, not Black-Necked Divers at all. Two of the Divers are only just heading out of breeding plumage, so they look spectacular anyway. Not as spectacular as it would have been to see Black Necked Divers, though.

I send a WhatsApp message back to the group to say they’re Great Northern Divers. This drizzle is soaking me.

The older adults are diving far more than the younger one. I get my tripod out to try capturing some video. I might as well, I’ve carried it this far. The wind wobbles it and the lens is all wet. Maybe I’ll be more successful with video next time?

There’s a Gannet feeding frenzy off the coast and a large group of Eider Ducks with chicks in the small sandy inlet. Neither are interesting enough in this flat light with a wet camera. It’s time to go home and put some dry clothes on which are more appropriate for the weather on Westray.

It’s then that I see a large herd of cattle with young heading towards me along the track. They’re not in a field, they’re on a grass track as wide as a car next to the small cliff. I’m going to have to scramble down the rocks to get out of their way. This isn’t ideal in shorts and sandals carrying all this equipment. They canter past me and stop, confused, at the closed gate at the end of the track. They’re trying to get down the small grassy slope and cliff to get to me. I’m stuck on treacherous rocks, slipping in rock pools in sandals, intimidated by cattle.

I get home soaking with terrible photographs of a species I’ve seen before.

I see Tina in the village, who’s also had the message about the Black-Throated Divers and seen my response that they’re Great Norther Divers. “I’m glad you went rather than me”, she says, cheerily.

I’m sure she is.