Scruffy and the Harriers, Part one.

SCRUFFY, THE HARRIERS AND ASSORTED OTHERS!



In the Spring of 2009, a friend and I happened across an interesting and slightly incongruous bird on the East coast of Kintyre.
During the months that followed our paths crossed on many more occasions.
These meetings - combined with the events that punctuated them, make for (I hope!) an interesting read.
So, I will relate them here - beginning with that memorable first encounter in early April of last year.





Spring had most definitely sprung as my friend, my dog, and I walked leisurely up the wide East Kintyre glen that Sunday afternoon.
The sky was absolutely clear, and a sun that certainly didn’t lack for power beat down pleasantly upon our backs.
Around us the young bracken was pushing its way persistently through the soft peaty soil.
Bees buzzed around the new Primroses, and the air was filled with the incessant liquid trilling of Skylarks and Meadow pipits.

At the top of the glen a ruined dwelling awaited us, and it was this that was our destination for the day.
The distance from the tarmac road where we had been dropped off, on up hill and glen to the ruin is a modest one; but in those weather conditions, and at that particular time of year, it is a magical walk.
It is also special because of the memories this place holds for both of us.
My childhood was spent in places like this, and the friend who accompanied me that day shared these happy carefree times on almost every occasion.
The coasts, hills and moors of South Kintyre are full of these spots for us, and to me they seem to resonate powerfully with a shared history.

As we meandered up the grassy slopes deep in conversation, our attention was suddenly caught by a large ‘Buzzard’ soaring in the far distance.
It was certainly sizable, ‘must be a big female’ I think was my remark to my companion.
There were an abundance of thermals available that day, and I don’t think the bird flapped its wings once as it languidly disappeared from our view behind the hillside.

A few minutes later and slightly further up the valley, we saw it again.
This time I trained my camera and lens on the bird in question before it could disappear once more.
Doubts were now beginning to arise in my mind as to its species, but I knew if I could get an image, and zoom right up on the picture on the camera screen, I would probably be able to identify it.
This particular technique has proved invaluable to me over the years, and I would now tend to use the camera - even before binoculars when challenged with a tricky - or distant subject to identify.

I quickly rattled off a couple of shots, and then peered at the tiny LCD screen, trying to shield it from the suns reflective glare.
As I zoomed in further it soon became obvious that the raptor in question wasn’t a Buzzard.
There was a brief moment when I thought that it may be a Sea Eagle, but the light patches on the wings and tail soon proved it beyond doubt to be a Juvenile Golden Eagle.

Now, perhaps you are thinking, ‘So what, you seem to see them all the time!’ or something similar.
I do, that’s quite correct, but this was certainly not Golden Eagle territory.
This area is farmland, relatively low lying, and is not far at all from a bustling small town.
In the Spring and Summer months the nearby road is usually busy with cars, and farms and houses dot the surrounding countryside.
All in all it is a far cry from the usual ‘back of beyond’ places you usually find these birds.

So we were surprised, and somewhat excited to find this ‘emblem of the wilderness’ in a place that is practically on our doorstep.
By the time we had finished examining the images the bird had again gone, so we continued our way towards our destination, arriving soon afterwards to begin a pleasant lunch.
The conversation was all Eagles.
I wondered aloud if this was perhaps the previous year’s young bird from the ‘Corrie’ that wild gale swept section of Atlantic coast I spend so much time at.
The Corrie was around ten miles to the West, no distance to a Golden Eagle.
It was certainly feasible that the Juvenile from there had decided to pass the late winter months here in the more benign and gentle hills of Eastern Kintyre.

But soon, this theory was shot to pieces by the arrival yet again of the mysterious youngster.

As we had sat eating and talking, a shadow passed over the bright sunlit ground in front of us.
We looked up to find our Aquiline friend circling a mere 100 feet or so above our open mouths.

Every detail was clear, and unless the Corrie Eagle had undergone a hugely dramatic change since I had last observed it a month before……then this was certainly a different bird.

His plumage in fact made me sure of his identity on every subsequent occasion I saw him.
A hugely ragged tail, and some very obvious gaps in his primary feathers rendered him unmistakeable; and led ultimately to the birds slightly disrespectful, but affectionate nickname of Scruffy.

Scruffy was a largish male Golden eagle, and looked to be around a year old.
His wings still had very distinct white patches on each of them, and the tail also bore the obvious white banding of the Immature Golden eagle.
These wing patches and tail band fade with age to dark brown, and basically, the whiter the two features - the younger the bird.

But, and as I remarked earlier, the first thing you really noticed about him was the appalling condition of his plumage.

The right wing was missing at least three of the outer primary feathers, the secondary’s were frayed and threadbare too, and the tail was basically just a chewed looking mess.
There didn’t appear to be one complete feather on it, and it seemed likely that this young bird had spent a very hard Winter indeed.
Nevertheless, and even though he was hardly the most photogenic of subjects, I took advantage of his rare proximity, and took a few nice images of our unkempt visitor as he perused the scene below him.
He showed absolutely no fear whatsoever, and it has to be said that if I or my companion had borne him any ill will, then it would not have been at all difficult to despatch young Scruffy.
Luckily though, both of us are very anti - gun, and unlike certain people, who even in this enlightened age will seek out and destroy birds like him, we were more than happy - grateful in fact, to just sit back and watch his circling progress.
I mean, how often do you get to eat your lunch whilst a wild Golden Eagle ‘performs’ just above you on a beautiful Spring day?

I was amazed at how such a large bird could manoeuvre so well in such calm conditions.
Not a breath of wind stirred, but even with his poor handicapped wings Scruffy showed himself to be a complete master of his aerial environment.
His ‘circuit’ would start around 100 yards West of our position.
He would then glide slowly East straight towards where we were seated.
As he approached his head would hang down and his dark amber eyes would lock on to ours until he was past us.
Then, and sneaking a few backwards glances, he would ‘put on the brakes’ when he was again roughly the same distance behind us - turn around, and repeat the process.
He without doubt showed curiosity for the humans below him, and unfortunately it is this trait that made the young of the species the most persecuted age group of all in Golden eagles.
The adults are far more wary and aloof, but, even they can have their momentary lapses, as I have remarked elsewhere on other occasions.

He completed a few more sorties above the ruin, and then once more, and for the last time that day, he left us.
I was rather excited getting home that night and reviewing my shots of Scruffy on the larger computer screen.
This was the first time I had been really close to a Golden Eagle since I had upgraded to more sophisticated camera equipment, and I was sure these would be amongst my best images to date.

They exceeded my expectations, and even though I have since upgraded again I would still be pretty pleased with shots like those today.

All in all an exciting day, but I was curious about this bird.
Was he just passing through, or was it possible he had decided to stay?
I decided then that I would use every spare day from that moment onwards to find out.

2

The next Weekend I returned with just the dog.
The afternoon would be full of surprises, and knowledge gained that day would ultimately lead to some superb photographic opportunities over the next year or so.

The weather was fair, but nowhere near as spectacularly perfect as the preceding weekend.
A cooler Easterly breeze made me hurriedly replace my somewhat optimistic t-shirt with a fleece almost as soon as I had left the shelter of the car.
But, the sun was shining brightly, and small white puffs of cloud were the only real blight in an otherwise largely clear sky.
I had walked in from another route this time, forsaking the longer pull up the glen, for a quick trek along a good Shepherd's quad track that cuts quickly over the moors and down into the hollow in which the ruin sits.

The ruin itself is superbly situated.
To the west, the ground rises steeply towards the high heathery slopes of Beinn Ghulean, and Meall Mor, and to the north and south, gentle slopes of mainly grassland and bracken are found.
But it was the low, sloping, grassy hill to the east of the old building that would become the focus of a lot of my attention in the coming months.
I would ultimately come to call this innocuous little mound 'Vole Hill’ for reasons that will become apparent later in this story.

Meanwhile, Kosi the dog and I sat ourselves down and I began a systematic scan of the surrounding countryside in the hope of once more spotting Scruffy.

Nothing Eagle like seemed to be moving in the sky, but two Kestrels were hunting diligently to the south of our position.
It is truly remarkable how these handsome little Falcons can maintain that absolutely stationery position in the air with such apparent ease.
I watched the closer of the two as, spotting a mouse or vole moving below, he dropped sharply a few feet closer to the ground.
He did this again twice, before finally plummeting the last 20 feet earthwards, and flying triumphantly off with some unfortunate rodent, and a talonful of grass stems.

A master class in hunting indeed, but it was somewhat larger Raptors that I was really interested in that day.

Soon I spotted what appeared to be a Golden Eagle high above the Southern hills.
As he approached the ‘notch‘ in the wing came into view and I realised then that young Scruffy indeed seemed to be a permanent fixture in these parts.
A week had passed since I had first seen him, and if he was just passing through, then he was fairly taking his time.
What happened next was unbelievable.
From behind the young Eagles position, another large shape came into view.
Another Golden Eagle.
The two then began to soar around each other in a very familiar manner.

I can’t repeat my exclamation here, but suffice to say, the dog - who dislikes raised voices, and associates particular words with her master being in rather a bad mood, put some distance between herself and me.

Why on earth where there two Golden eagles here?
Why did they seem to be together?
It would be another month before I knew the truth, and it would all make sense then, but at this time I was just totally baffled.

I was even more baffled when I saw that the second bird was also an Immature Eagle.


CONTINUED SOON.

Below, A male Kestrel hunting.

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