Day 1: Landing
Number of cuckoos heard: 3.
Number of greylag goslings seen: lots.
The first time I came to Barra, about fifteen years ago, it was 24 degrees with clear, blue skies. This time, the universe decided to balance things up.
When I reached the former croft house where I’m staying, I read in a book that there is hardly ever fog in Barra. Right.
Day 2: Earsary/Earsaraidh
Number of seals cavorting in the small bay behind the house: 3.
It makes sense when you think about it that seals are large and therefore must make a lot of noise when they turn in the water. But when you’re used to seeing seals either motionless, on rocks, or just the head showing before they down-periscope again, this somehow never occurred to me.
Where’s the seal gone? KA-PLOP. Oh, there it is.
Seals always look like they’re living their best life.
I seem to be constantly disturbing geese.
Day 3: Eoligarry/Eolaigearraidh
Number of unidentified wading birds feeding on the beach: +/- 30
Number of lapwings pointedly not showing me where their nests were: several
Number of otters spotted: 1, but it was a Twin Otter.
I had lunch at (on) an Iron-Age fort or dún. The “Toreador” theme from Carmen was in my head on account of a sign warning that there was a bull in the field.
Day 4: Vatersay/Bhatarsaigh
Number of entertaining ringed plovers: lost count.
The plovers are all over these islands. They are very well camouflaged among the rocks, but they announce themselves with a “T-weep!” that rises a tone and which has me constantly singing the theme tune to “The Flumps”.
Day 5: Eriskay/Erisgaidh
Number of Eriskay ponies seen: not enough.
Number of eagles seen: 1.
I might not have spotted the eagle if I hadn’t heard the chaperone of a herd of nursery school pupils, who were also in the ferry queue, pointing it out to them. The eagle was being chased by a very, very small bird with pretensions to greatness.
Day 6: West coast and Earsary
Number of sandmartin nesting sites spotted: 1
Number of corncrakes heard: 1
Number of terns hovering and diving at Orasaigh: 1, with others in the background.
It is very difficult to photograph a sandmartin in flight.
It is my last evening on Barra and, as if by magic, the island of Rum appeared on the far horizon at Earsary tonight. It is an incredibly still evening after what started out as a very windy week. A perfect evening for doing the best thing to be done on Barra: being still, looking at the sea — there are a hundred ways at least of looking at the sea on Barra — and listening to the occasional call of birds, and sheep.
Cultures of Peace 