Hello again from 60North. It's all go with the seabirds here in Shetland. Guillemots are hatching out steadily at Sumburgh Head and the kittiwakes are finally on eggs (another late breeding season from them). Typically, seabirds are to be enjoyed by day. However, in mid-June daylight extends late into the night so you can easily enjoy watching puffins at Sumburgh Head after supper. In fact, you can read a newspaper outside at midnight! We call this period of half light "Da Simmer Dim."
Some seabirds are only to be seen in the darker hours, and so it was that last night I caught the 11pm ferry to Mousa. It was a beautiful calm and light evening and the twice-weekly night-time ferry was packed with passengers. Tom Jamieson, the skipper of the ferry, gave an introductory talk before setting off from the Shetland Mainland. He advised passengers on how to behave, such as not using flash photography and being most careful where we tread. A few minutes later we stepped ashore at Mousa and proceeded on the fifteen minute walk to the 2000 year old Mousa Broch. Before we reached the broch, we started to hear sounds coming from drystone walls and the boulder beach. Churrrrrr-hic. Churrrrrrrr-hic. A sound which has been described as being similar to a fairy being sick! This was the call of Europe's smallest seabird - the storm petrel.
Mousa is a magnificent place to experience storm petrels - there are thousands breeding on the island, it is easily accessible and the atmosphere is quite awesome. They breed all across the uninhabited island but most famously in the thirteen metre tall Iron Age broch, which has been described as "Britain's Biggest Bird Box." The upper view of a storm petrel bares some resemblance to a house martin, being of a similar size, mostly dark with a snow white rump. Their local name "Alamooti" makes reference to their size, "Mooti" meaning "tiny." Their size and character makes them potential prey for aerial predators, such as a great black-backed gull or great skua (bonixe), so it is safer to use the cover of darkness to return to breeding sites.
Just after midnight, we saw our first flutterings of a storm petrel as it flew around the broch. As it got dimmer, more and more petrels arrived and some people compare the experience to watching a colony of bats. Sometimes, you're fortunate enough to get good views as a petrel perches on the dry-stone structure before disappearing into a hole in the wall, and for a brief moment you can appreciate it's glossy plumage and delicate form. If you step inside the broch, you also get to appreciate their gorgeous, distinctive musty smell! Everyone had a magnificent trip - gazing at the broch, enjoying the show. At around 1am, we drifted back to the ferry without the need of a torch. As well as the storm petrels, I heard the odd Arctic skua call and snipe drumming and chipping. And then I noticed that the air was filled with the song of skylarks.
I'll tell you more about the lifestyle and conservation of Mousa's fantastic wee storm petrels in another post, but must bid you farewell for now.
Thank you for reading this blog!
Helen