It was like a haunting lament in tribute to this upland wilderness, a mere whisper in the wind yet with an underlying depth that was beautiful and hypnotic. It was the piping call of a golden plover – a mournful voice that reflected the very soul of the Scottish mountains.
I was on the high plateau between Glenshee and Gleann Taitneach in the southern Cairngorms and for the past hour the wistful whistles of golden plovers had been my constant companion, a soft and gentle calling. The birds were elusive to the eye though, and often it was hard to judge which direction the persistent piping was coming from, such was the way they enveloped the environment like a soothing balm.
I summited the tops of Carn na Sach, followed by Carn a Gheoidh and finally Carn Bhinnein, but had yet to glimpse one of these wild beauties despite their omnipresent calls. No matter, for the sun shone and the warm breeze caressed my face in a way that made the heart sing with joy. Meadow pipits leapt up into the air before me and fell back to the ground again on parachute wings, whilst strange and colourful lichens encrusted the rocks in the boulder fields.
I was especially taken by the club mosses that resembled diminutive conifer trees and which abounded on the ground above 3,000ft. Despite the name, they are not true mosses and are ancient vascular plants more closely related to ferns. They were once known locally in Scotland as ground pines because of their resemblance to miniature firs.
Even more abundant was woolly fringe-moss that carpeted the ground in grey-green mats, and which thrive in this harsh and forbidding environment. I stopped to absorb the panorama – to the north, the rocky tors on the vast plateaux of Ben Avon and Beinn a Bhuird etched the skyline, whilst to the south I could see all the way to the Lomond Hills in Fife and even the Pentland Hills beyond.
On my return journey, just before reaching the top of Carn a Gheoidh for the second time, the piping of a golden plover broke the air once more – and it sounded very close. I scanned ahead, and a bird-like shape materialised about a hundred yards away, so I brought the telephoto lens of my camera to bear, but, alas, the object turned out to be a rock! Then, a movement a short distance further on – a golden apparition running on pattering feet, which paused and then ran once more. Oh, my goodness, an elusive plover had at last revealed itself and a surge of excitement pulsed through my body.
The plover was confiding yet kept a safe distance from me all the time. When it disappeared behind an undulation, I packed my camera away, but then it popped up again, the bird clearly curious by my presence and no doubt determined to see me off its territory.
So, I bowed to its wishes and ventured on, the whirling whistles of this wild spirit of the hill breeze gradually diminishing in the vastness of this enduring landscape.