An itch that needed scratching

Despite the great news that Scratchy was alive and well and teasing sheep dogs with fish bones in Roybridge, it had been a very long time since we'd heard any news of his brother, Itchy. In fact the last confirmed record I'd had was from one of our wildlife tour operators here on Mull. He was seen down near Loch Spelve, looking fine but that had been nearly 18 months ago. Where was he now?

One late winter's day I was checking an area in the heart of Mull where young sea eagles sometimes congregate in a kind of 'sea eagle youth club'. Sea eagles are far more sociable than golden eagles and youngsters often form autumn and winter roosts where between five and ten birds will come together at dusk. Just before the light goes, one can make out dark, eagley shapes drifting around above the tops of the trees, legs down in that familiar hang-glider flight. Sometimes they merge or clash and briefly talon grapple before carrying on. And then, one by one, they lose height, drop down and disappear into the wood to roost for the night.

Earlier this year, I was there at about 4pm, just as the light was beginning to go. There were three or four young sea eagles already sitting in the trees at the front of the wood. A couple of them were wing tagged. A yellow-tagged bird from 2006 and a white-tagged one from 2007, then in flew another with green tags on, from 2004. As I squinted through the telescope, I could just make out the letters on the tags and made a note to check on their ID's back at the office. As far as I could remember, none of them were Mull hatched birds. It's always exciting when you get to read a tag and then go and find out where it originated from, how far it had travelled and when it was last seen.

With the light rapidly fading, in flew another two immature sea eagles. I could see one had no tags but as I panned the 'scope along to the other newcomer, my heart skipped a beat as I saw it had red tags! There was something special about 2005 when Itchy and Scratchy were hatched and fledged. There had been such national interest in them and their welfare and I was always under pressure to report on their whereabouts. The truth was, I didn't know. Never a comfortable feeling. Often I would see red tagged youngsters but it would be 'Red E' from Territory A or 'Red X' from Territory B but it was never the ones I really wanted it to be: 'Red S' or 'Red I'.

Of course, true to form, this new arrival sat on a branch - facing me. I could see a hint of red on both wings but unless it turned sideways, I'd never be able to read it and I was running out of time with the light diminishing fast. Then it flew again but too quickly for me to get a lock onto the tags. It vanished into the wood and I thought that was it. I'd never know now. It had gone to roost. But I kept watching, my eye nearly frozen to the eyepiece and to my amazement, the bird flew out again and up over the wood for a couple of minutes before heading back down to the original dead tree. Again, it perched with tags obscured. This was just not my night. Just as the very last hint of light faded, it half lost its balance as it tried to scratch its face, ever so carefully, with one of those impressive talons. In so doing, it changed its position. It regained its balance and there, amazingly clearly considering the light conditions, I could read the wing tag at last. I couldn't believe my eyes. It was 'Red I'! I checked again. Yes, no question, 'Red I'. Itchy had come home to Mull after many months away wandering the coasts and hills of the Hebrides. I let out a loud "YES!" which the young eagles on the other side of the loch may well have heard. But by then, it really was too dark to see. Their shapes had merged in to the gathering dusk. They had gone to roost. Itchy had some pals to spend the night with and now it was time for me to go to roost too. My hands were numb from the cold and my eyes were watering from the chill wind. At least I think that's what had caused it. But I felt a certain warm glow at having located young Itchy. Bumping my way back along the rough track in the dark, I wondered what Itchy and Scratchy had been getting up to in their young lives. Had they done well and learned to hunt as well as their parents, Frisa and Skye, or were they still surviving on carrion on the hill? Had they had any aggressive encounters or close calls with other sea eagles or golden eagles? And when would they pair up and settle down themselves - and where? In the next year, that darkish beak would be turning pale yellow, the eyes would become the colour of winter sunlight and the tail would turn pure, snowy white. They would look magnificent and proud and would be a good catch for any passing female. Who could resist them?

Against all the odds, all the continuing dangers and threats in the Scottish Highlands and Islands today, both Itchy and Scratchy had made it through to sub-adulthood. Now they deserve to make it all the way. Please keep watching for them.

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer

2045hrs