Exploring Mull – Page 5 – Glengorm Castle

Trefoiled Again

Posted on 20th May 2014 by glengorm2020

Many of us visit Mull to enjoy its magnificent wildlife. When we’re frantically scanning the horizon with binoculars, or peering owlishly at the kelp from our car window, it’s easy to overlook the quiet beauty of plants.

Plants play it cool. They wouldn’t be seen dead talon-locking and tumbling out of the sky to win your admiration; as for bow riding and turning somersaults – well, that’s just not cricket.

To really get to know plants, you’ve got to make the first move. It’s a bit like going on a date: express an interest in what they are and how they live, and you stand to gain much more from the encounter.

The first step is learning their name (!) After this, you’ll start to “see them around” and notice where they hang out. Once you can pick a plant out from the crowd, you’ll find out who its friends are – so, which invertebrates pollinate it for example.

Mull’s most lovely plants are not necessarily the biggest; Common century, Germander speedwell and Eyebright are some of my own favourites.

If you can scrape your eyes off the sky, have a look for these jewels in our species-rich grasslands!

Stephanie Cope

Glengorm Wildlife Steward

Species Rich: Thrift [pink] and Birds-Foot Trefoil [yellow] blooming on Laorin Point, Glengorm.

On Waders

Posted on 20th April 2014 by glengorm2020

Walk out to An Sean Dun on a pleasant evening, and you will hear one of nature’s most evocative songs: that of the Eurasian Curlew.

At first they whistle uncertainly among themselves, shuffling about over weedy rocks on the shore. The dark lines of their bills curve down like ribs. The brown chevrons on their plumage tremble with expectation.

Then, one breaks free. It releases an upwelling of bubbling notes that cascade out in an ecstasy of purpose. Others take flight. Together, their golden voices rain down with wild and alien beauty as they rise up and over the ridge.

If you continue out towards Loch Tor, Northern Lapwings flicker and stall between rocky promontories. Their rounded wings almost swat the bog asphodel as males jink through their display flight.

Just as Curlews stir a sense of wilderness, Lapwings seem playful and high-spirited to us. In reality they are deeply territorial; driving away rivals and intruders with persistent chasing. Their voice almost defies description – falling somewhere between 80’s synth-pop and a whale on recreational drugs.

Sadly, both Curlew and Lapwing are declining in Britain as their wet grassland habitat disappears.

Stephanie Cope

Glengorm Wildlife Steward

A Eurasian Curlew flies low over the sands at Calgary Bay, Mull

A Life of Crime

Posted on 15th February 2014 by glengorm2020

Mull has a larger-than-average quota of celebrity species. Indeed, there are days when I can scarcely keep up with all the A-List eagle action. Nevertheless, my top wildlife moments have come from more mundane quarters this week.

Around our shores, herons are very much like streetlights: they’re tall, grey and stationed reliably every fifty meters. I’m the first to admit that my heart doesn’t do exactly somersaults when I see them. However, herons have revealed a side previously unknown to me – a side that is darkly criminal, calculating and [interestingly] buoyant.

I’ve been spending most of my outdoor time at the hide. Hot tea, biscuits and a stove are just part of its great appeal during Mull’s monsoon season. These afternoons had been uneventful [save for a hunting peregrine] until the otter showed up.

She was working the weedy margins of Loch Mingary with a single cub; old enough to dive, but still quite small. I hadn’t knowingly seen this otter before. Our regular girl has a large scar, so is easily identifiable.

The newcomer seemed wary – I was worried that she might catch my scent as she swam towards the hide. She passed without incident, but shortly afterwards a heron flopped down onto the rocks beside her. The cub slipped away, but the female kept hold of her butterfish and remained where she was. Her back arched aggressively, and I could hear her whickering at the heron.

The bird tilted its head, bent forward and took another step. Its expression was comparable to that of a Velociraptor: the kind one wears before it jumps Bob Peck.

Like lightening, it lunged forward just as the otter opened her mouth. She missed a nose piercing by bare millimetres, and there was an audible click as her teeth clattered against the bony beak.

The heron shambled off with its prize like a broken umbrella; the defeated otter sank miserably into the bladder wrack.

Days later, I returned. There was a good fishing tide: shags, cormorants, divers and mergansers were all busy hunting the loch. The herons, of course, waited patiently along the shore. One in particular was paying close attention.

Eventually, a cormorant surfaced with a mullet. The fish was side-on and lively, so the bird didn’t notice the heron take off – I assumed it was simply heading to a new spot.

Instead, the heron bombed into the water astride the cormorant and wrestled it for the fish. For the briefest of moments, a surprised and horrified head peered out of the pirate’s breast feathers, before disappearing.

Swimming is not a big part of the heron skill-set. It jerked about like a mutant swan, right in the middle of the loch. The mullet slapped it crisply in the face and returned forthwith to the wild. Fishless and adrift, the heron finally went airborne with the combined strength of front-crawl and willpower. Who knows what sinister deeds it might be contemplating next?

Stephanie Cope

Glengorm Wildlife Steward

Defeated: the female Otter swims off to search for more food…

Hovering over Scotland

Posted on 10th October 2013 by glengorm2020

Here’s some fantastic aerial photography we watched this week over on Vimeo. It was shot on Mull, Skye, Harris and Lewis. It features some of Glengorm around Loch Torr and goes on to some spectacular scenery across the Hebridees.
Shot with a Quadcopter and GoPro.

Thanks to Weencent on Vimeo for sharing.