Wildlife

It is always nice to find a warm spot where you can curl up a take a snooze. Take, for example, the top of a compost heap which is normally covered with an old piece of carpet to stop the weeds growing. There is heat from below, decaying vegetable matter, and then even on a cloudy day there might be enough heat from above too. You're probably feeling quite full after breakfasting on a couple of large slugs that happened to slide your way earlier in the day so why not chill out as you digest your food. Of course it is annoying when someone lifts the rug off just so they can take a photo (for which they didn't even ask permission) but you just blink once then wriggle sexily and ignore them. Thankfully they covered you up again.
This is the life of a slow worm, by the way, but I expect everyone knows that. We have several who live in our compost heap.

Earlier photo

More exciting still was the creature who porpoised next to our boat just as we were lowering the sails outside Tarbert harbour. Only ever offering a brief glimpse of the dorsal fin before curving their bodies below the water these creatures somehow manage to inhale enough air to sustain themselves for long enough so that no matter how hard you look you'll rarely see a second emergence.
'Did I really see that?' is the thought that comes to mind, or was it a trick of the light flashing off a wave? Even the seal who stuck his head up above the water for a good look at us could not shed any light on this.

The following morning it was a bit of a shock, just as we were emerging from inside Eun na Mara's cabin, to come face to face with Mr Swan, whose long neck brings his head up higher than our low freeboard so he can peer right into the cockpit. I suspect he was looking for a snack but there is clear guidance on feeding swans. Basically don't. If ever you are tempted to toss them a small crust of your sandwich then bear in mind this will not sustain them and too much of it will actually cause them harm. Also they are strict vegetarians, as indeed are we.

Mr Swan follows Mrs Swan around like he's on a piece of string, dutifully guarding their one remaining chick. Sadly the others have all succumbed to one or other of the predators that share Tarbert harbour, the gulls, the fish, perhaps even an otter. It happens every year - this couple never seem to raise a family successfully.

No sooner had we arrived home when the message comes via Facebook. [This does not imply swans are Facebook users.] The last chick has been taken by gulls! Tragic for them but at least this has stimulated a conversation on how better to protect future attempts at swan parenthood.

Wasps have been attracted to our car port as a nesting location ever since it was built some years ago. It is sheltered, dry and safe from most predators (do wasps have predators?). In order to build a nest they strip very thin pieces of wood in layers from anything close by (our garden shed being convenient, although I do try to discourage this with some preservative paint). The wood is made into a pulpy paper-like nest building material inside their bodies and then this is used to create an amazing structure, usually tucked away up high beneath the canopy. We don't have a problem with this - the wasps are themselves predators of other insects - until late in the year when there are less insects about so the wasps turn to anything sweet they can find to sustain themselves and eating an ice cream can suddenly become quite hazardous. Even in winter wasps can still get you as the queen will wait out the cold hidden away in the woodpile, waking up only long enough to stab you in the bare hand. And as I discovered last year, a wasp sting hurts, for several days, and can be worse if you are allergic to their venom.
So the long and the short of this is that we try to keep an eye out at this time of year so we know if we are hosting a wasp colony. A visual inspection into the corners will usually spot them. This time, however, it revealed another family - spiders. The tiny round balls are full of spiderlings who will all grow into menacing predators, unless the blue tits get to them first. So like the swans, we wish them well but leave them alone.

All of which neatly brings me to the subject of beavers. Phased out in Scotland some years ago (a pleasant way of saying killed off) these lovable creatures were reintroduced on a trial basis to an area close to where we live. They were given a considerable area of land in which to live and this includes Loch Coille-Bharr.

Uninhabited today, when you walk around the loch you soon see signs of buildings, walls and other structures, and realise that this area was once populated by humans, There are the remains of a whole village, Kilmory Oib, hidden amongst the trees and it is, of course, the trees that make this place so suitable for the beavers. 

Following the path around the loch one might expect to see them popping out everywhere but no, if you really want to see them you have to brave the midges and go out at dawn or dusk. This clearly disappoints some people but for us, just being there and seeing evidence of their presence is enough.

Strangely though, this unique 'trial' reintroduction is not the only place in Scotland that beavers can be found. Tayside on the east side of the country now has a substantial population, so many in fact that there is even talk of culling to reduce numbers, their natural predators, wolves and lynx, being absent. How did they arrive on Tayside? Nobody really knows for sure but arrive they did. Perhaps this was a surreptitious freelance release by someone who just fancied having them around. This country is very much their natural home after all.