Tag: Scotland

The wild aura of the Insh Marshes

On November 27, 2024

By Keith Broomfield

The flat expanse of the Insh Marshes swept away in the distance, glowing ochre under the soft autumnal light.

From my vantage point on a slope in Lynachlaggan wood, my mind visualised the intricate mosaic of pools scattered across this rich, natural bogland that covers 10 square kilometres of the River Spey floodplain between Kingussie and Kincraig. This swampy paradise is home to breeding curlew, lapwing, redshank and snipe, and the whole area acts as a giant natural sponge, holding water and allowing it to slowly drain back into the River Spey.

At this time of year, it is an important haunt for wintering whooper swans, wigeon and tufted duck, while hen harriers can sometimes be glimpsed quartering over the ground in search of prey. Dusk was settling, and I scanned my binoculars across the landscape in the hope of spotting a harrier coming in to roost, but this vast marshland lay tantalisingly empty.

No matter, for only a short while before in the wood at Lynachlaggan I had watched a great-spotted woodpecker on a lichen covered alder probe eagerly for invertebrates, moving up the trunk in short, jerky bounds. This bird was meticulous in its search for creatures hiding under the bark, examining each section of the trunk closely with scrutinising eyes, before moving up to the next. Once it had reached the top of the alder, it took to the air in an undulating flight to alight on a nearby birch to begin the process all over again.

The autumnal dankness of the air had an earthy aroma, a natural perfume of moss, decaying wood and peaty soil that aroused the senses in a way that only nature can. Normally we perceive nature by sight, sound and touch, but its redolence is equally compelling and is deliciously addictive.

The walk at Lynachlaggan is a delightful relatively short circular trail, and my course was frequently interrupted as I stopped to examine the profusion of fungi scattered on the ground. There were brown birch boletes and red-capped fly agarics, and on a decomposing tumbled tree trunk a cluster of sulphur tuft toadstools glimmered like a beckoning beam of light. Fungi are one of the bedrocks of the natural world – they are recyclers, nutrient providers for plants and underpin every type of habitat there is. Many have developed mutually beneficial relationships with trees and without fungi our woodlands would be much impoverished.

Then, another burning incandescence shone from the edge of the trail. It was a small huddle of scarlet waxcaps, their umbrella caps burnished and beautifully polished. The gills on the undersides where soft and yielding to the touch, the scarlet colour of each toadstool complementing the dark-green of the mosses all around.

The hen harriers out on the marsh may have proved elusive, but the woodpecker and the fungi had provided ample compensation – and the lack of harriers provided the perfect excuse to return to Lynachlaggan on another day in the hope of spotting one settling in to roost in the dwindling gloaming light.

An inspiring encounter with a beaver and her kit

By keithbroomfield

On August 23, 2024

In Wildlife

An evening stroll along my local river – nightfall was approaching and I could sense a stirring in the air, as if the creatures of the gloaming were about to emerge.

I scanned the opposite bank in hope of spotting an otter or a kingfisher, but it was a dark, furry rotund form at the bottom of a steep section of bank that caught my eye – a beaver! It was grabbing overhanging leaves and other luxuriant vegetation with its front paws and munching with such enthusiasm that the chewing noise was clearing audible.

Then, another movement, this time in the water – a small brown head swimming with a V-shaped wake across the river towards the sandy shelf where the other, much larger, beaver was feeding. This was a beaver kit – young and full of the zest of life, and a standard bearer to the integral beauty of nature and the hope of a new beginning. The kit emerged onto the bankside to greet its mother, rising on its hind-legs as if in celebration of their reunion.

They both fed together for several minutes, before sliding back in the water, their long paddle tails slithering along the sand bank as they did so. Beavers are remarkable creatures – unusually for a rodent, the parents are faithful and pair for life, and the young are born fully-furred with open eyes, and can swim from the moment of birth.

Watching the mother and kit was an emotional experience, and it was like spiralling back into the depths of time when wolves and bears once roamed Scotland and it was a truly wild place. As such, the return of beavers to Scotland after centuries of extinction is something we should all celebrate, for they belong here and are as much part of our rivers as are trout and salmon.

Beavers do sometimes come into conflict with farming and other landowning interests – I fully understand that – but the environmental benefits they bring are immense and in the 21^st century it should not beyond the wit of humanity to live with nature, rather than continually seek to destroy it.

Research has consistently shown that where beavers are present, biodiversity is significantly enhanced by their activities, making them animals to cherish. In areas where beavers dam small burns, the large ponds created above abound with invertebrates, amphibians and water plants. Many trees felled are coppiced rather than killed and will spawn new green shoots of recovery. The clearings created enables sunshine to filter to the ground below, enabling, wildflowers and their pollinators to prosper. Tumbled trees slowly rot, providing refuge and places to reproduce for a host of other invertebrates and fungi. A tree felled into a river acts like an ocean reef, providing shelter for fish and many micro-creatures.

The activity of beavers has been engrained in the natural order since the dawn of time, ensuring a diverse environment that supports more life than would otherwise be possible, which in turn brings vitality to our environment that benefits us all.

On the trail of the white-pawed fox

By keithbroomfield

On July 10, 2024

In Wildlife

By Keith Broomfield

As far as accessibility was concerned, this was the fox den from hell, which to reach involved wading knee-deep across a tumbling river followed by a scramble up a steep, nettle-infested bank.

I had first noticed the site on the far bank of the river earlier in the spring when the leaf cover was still sparse, and where through gaps in the trees it was possible to glimpse a sandy mound of excavated soil at the top of a wooded slope. A badger sett, I presumed, but its inaccessibility and need to wade across the river was a discouragement for me to monitor it with my trail cameras.

But after having no luck in filming badger cubs at a more easily reached sett nearby, I decided to relocate the trail cameras to this new site. The water swirled around my legs as I forded the river, and the climb up the far slope left me puffing, but as soon as I reached the first entrance hole, the remains of a rabbit and the distinctive musky aroma made me realise this was an occupied fox den.

Badgers never leave prey remains outside their setts, whilst vixens are not so fastidious, and if prey is abundant all kinds of bits and pieces are left lying about, including birds’ wings, feathers, and rabbits’ feet.

Examining the trail camera recordings a week later confirmed that there was a fox family in residence, and it was wonderful to watch the cubs at play, tumbling and clambering over one another with the zeal that is the hallmark of young life. Curiously, my first badger sett inclination also proved correct, for adult badgers occasionally emerged from the same hole as the fox cubs.

There were several holes on the site, which was obviously quite a large sett complex, and presumably the fox family and the badgers occupied different parts, although occasionally shared the same exit holes. Foxes are not terribly good at digging and it is much easier for a pregnant vixen to set up residence in a pre-made home, rather than going to the effort of making her own den.

It was no doubt an uneasy co-existence, with the badgers regarding the foxes a threat to their cubs and vice versa. The vixen when she appeared on camera did not look in the best of health, thin and scrawny and with a slight limp. But the cubs looked robust and the mother was obviously fit enough to catch plentiful prey.

The other big surprise about this fox family was that one of the cubs had white forepaws, which looked like neat little pale socks set against the dark legs. I had never seen such a genetic aberration before and the wee cub was cuteness personified as it cavorted around the den. On my early morning walks in the months to come, I will be keeping a keen look-out for this white-pawed beauty as it pads along field edges and hones its hunting skills for voles and rabbits.

Marine heaven in Fife

By keithbroomfield

On September 16, 2022

In Wildlife

With mounting anticipation, I kicked my flippers and glided towards a cluster of rocks by the low tide mark. The excitement was fuelled by the knowledge that this section of the shore by Elie in the East Neuk of Fife had previously delivered wondrous marine life encounters – but would it do so this time?

The rocks came into view, the water was thick with soup-like plankton, which impaired visibility, but it was good enough to enable a thorough investigation of the area. A mysid shrimp flickered into view, a small crustacean about a centimetre long, with a distinctive hump-back profile. These shrimps are the bread and butter for many of the larger creatures here, a vital part of the food chain.

I tried to photograph the shrimp, but the camera auto-focus had difficulty in honing onto such a small beast, so I gave up and resumed my scrabbling around by the rocks. A movement – and then a pair of long claws materialised by a rock cleft – a spiny squat lobster! I’ve snorkelled this section of coast many times previously, yet this was a creature I had never seen before. The sea is an Aladdin’s Cave of natural treasures and now it was revealing another one of its magical secrets.

With rhythmic movements of my hands, I steadied my body against the gentle surge of the sea and watched spellbound as this fascinating crustacean crawled onto a patch of sand, where it began to feed. Using its long pincers, it scooped sand into its mouth where it gleaned algae, detritus, and other food items before spitting-out the remaining sand grains.

The spiny squat lobster is a most attractive creature, with a flattened body about 3cm long, and claws that are the same length again. The abdomen was intricately patterned with kingfisher-blue stripes, whilst the tips of the legs and claws were tinged with red. Despite the vibrant colouration, the creature blended superbly with the environment, and it seemed that the blue stripes mimicked the patterns of light that rippled across the seabed.

Another similar animal appeared, which was greener in colour, and which I identified as a common squat lobster, a different species. Witnessing two types of squat lobster over a short period was a real nature jackpot, and I watched enthralled as the animals went about their business.

I moved on towards another group of rocks where I glimpsed a pair of red antennae poking out from a shallow crevice. It was a lobster, a much larger creature altogether, and which is such an important quarry for creel fishermen. It was spooked by my approach, so it emerged from its shelter and scuttled over the seabed to find a deeper hole to seek refuge.

In this marine heaven, pearly coloured sea squirts adorned rocks and hermit crabs side-stepped comically over the seabed. My mind buzzed with happiness at the vibrancy of life that unfurled before me, and which acted as a telling reminder of the importance of protecting our precious oceans.

Five-star review for ‘A Scottish Wildlife Odyssey’

By keithbroomfield

On June 7, 2022

In Wildlife

I was thrilled when my new book – A Scottish Wildlife Odyssey – recently gained a five-star review from Scottish Field magazine.

The review said: “I dare you to open this book up to any page, read the text with fresh new eyes and not fall in love with the way Keith Broomfield has painted the Scottish landscape with words.

“He has thoughtfully captured his rambles across Scotland, from the bottom all the way to the very top in Shetland, recounting the diverse and exciting wildlife he spotted along the way. From the urban fox to the minke whale, Keith Broomfield tells all their stories with equal enthusiasm.

“A Scottish Wildlife Odyssey is among my most cherished styles of book; filled with bewitching ecological descriptions, supplemented with knowledge and facts about local wildlife that is shown rather than told and complemented by sketches of the flora and fauna. This is one of my favourite non-fiction books of the year.”

Opportunity knocks

By keithbroomfield

On February 18, 2020

In Wildlife

It’s all about finding the right opportunity – and this pair of red-breasted mergansers fishing close to the shore at St Cyrus had certainly found that.

Despite the air being still, rolling breakers were crashing into the shore with some ferocity. But the power of the surge had created a small protective sand bar a short distance further out, which in turn provided a calm channel close to the beach.

It was here the mergansers fished, a good spot for catching small flounders, and where gulls had also gathered close to the water’s edge. I’m not a regular enough visitor to St Cyrus to know whether this narrow channel is always there, but I suspect not, for the coast here is such a dynamic environment, constantly scoured by the tidal currents, wave-topped seas and the outpourings from the nearby River North Esk.

I was here bright and early, the sun just having risen above the far horizon and there was not a soul about. The mergansers fished for several more minutes, the pair frequently diving together in unison. I wondered if there was teamwork going on here, with both sweeping the shallow channel in a broad front so as to flush out flatfish buried in the sand.

On the distant cliffs, fulmars prospected their nesting ledges and a short while later a stonechat alighted on the branch of a washed-up tree trunk right in front of me, before flitting away across the sand-dunes. This was wildness at its best, but it was time to go, for I was keen to explore nearby Johnshaven.

Bur shortly after drawing away from the St Cyrus nature reserve visitor centre, I brought my car to a juddering halt. A grassy field adjacent to the lane was full of curlews, their long-curved bills silhouetted against the low winter sun. It had been a while since I had seen so many of these wonderful birds together at one time, content in the company of their own kind as they busily probed for worms.

Curlew numbers are in freefall, resulting in the bird being described as ‘the most pressing bird conservation priority in the UK’, and as I drove away once more, I pondered for how much longer it would still be possible to witness such large groups as this.

Just as how the mergansers had found opportunity at St Cyrus, then so too had a pair of turnstones I discovered soon after on the quay at Johnshaven. Turnstones adore fishing harbour quaysides, presumably because there is shellfish detritus left behind by fishers after landing their catch.

These attractive little waders breed in the Arctic, and are clearly opportunists too, seeking out good places to forage in winter before embarking upon their daunting migration back north. But then again, many creatures are opportunists in their own way, but as the plight of the curlew shows, that doesn’t always ensure survival in a rapidly changing natural world.