Born to be wild

One of the great highlights for me every year is to actually see the young white-tailed eagles which you've watched over and fretted about for so long, actually in the air and flying! After all it's what they're born to do. Whilst it's the one thing we have little actual control over (as Loch Frisa proved this year) to see the chicks through hatching, growing and fledging is how we judge the success or failure of our year with the eagles. This year I'm delighted to report we have ten fine, strong young sea eagles on Mull already flying confidently around their nest area. It's an equal best with last year and 2006 and an amazing achievement for the adult birds involved.

The full dramatic news of how they've fared all down the west coast of Scotland this year is yet to be told but it's looking promising. And make no mistake: as big and as powerful as these birds are, they need all the help and protection we can give them. So once again, at least as far as Mull is concerned, it's testament to the work of the farmers, landowners and the local community here that the eagles have done so well. And one other very important group of people which we shouldn't forget: our visitors. Many of you send in vital sightings and reports of what you've seen and many assist each year with Mull Eagle Watch, keeping an eye on our precious natural heritage during your hard-earned holidays and reporting any suspicious activities to our friends in Strathclyde Police. Thank you all. You've all played your part.

More on the final results of this season's breeding performances another time but just now I wanted to share with you a brief encounter with one of the recently fledged sea eaglets here on Mull. He is one of two male chicks fledged this year from a nest where, if you know Mull and you're into golf, you'll know that a 'double eagle' during your round is firmly on the cards. Both chicks were sitting side by side on an off shore skerry. They seemed to be very bonded to each other, at least for now and followed each other everywhere. Here on the seaweed covered rock they were probably observing otters or the seals hauled out nearby. Gulls, oystercatchers and a solitary greenshank were busily feeding as the tide edged higher.

First one chick and almost immediately the second, eventually took flight as the water lapped around those big, as yet untested talons. One flew purposefully back towards the nest area whilst the second one, for once, did not follow his brother. He veered off and headed straight towards me - at eye level.

As the distance between us closed, I ran out of focus on my excellent RSPB-brand binoculars so gently lowered them and just watched with eyes wide open. He'd gained a little height but not much. I found I was holding my breath as I wondered just how close he would be prepared to come. And still he came.

Finally as I tilted my head up to follow his flight track, there he was just a matter of feet above my head. He was working hard to stay airborne and for a split second I planned what I'd do if he landed in my lap. His feather-light broad, long wings were flapping hard and the sound of the wind through those stiff new primaries and secondaries swamped the sound of the gulls alarming over the bay. Suddenly he got a bit of a lift and rose a few more metres so that he could stop flapping as if his life depended on it and soared once in a tight circle. He drifted off and then came back, all the time with his head and massive beak craning down to look at me (who had just about started breathing again). What was he up to? Was he just being naturally curious as young sea eagles often are (it's what made them - potentially still makes them - so easy to persecute) or was he simply coming to check out this lone figure which he may have seen many times before checking him out when he was still a growing chick on the nest? He circled low over me for several minutes. Watching him in full control of the summer breeze and choosing to do what he'd done was one of those moments in time that will stay with me forever.

But soon, as I knew he would, he eventually gained height and chose to abandon our brief 'one to one' in favour of seeking out his brother in the nest wood. He was leaving my world and heading back into his  - where he belonged - hopefully keeping a safer distance from the likes of us. Perhaps I should have waved my arms and shouted, shoo-ing him away so that he didn't try the same close-up and personal encounter with someone else, somewhere in the future with a 12-bore at the ready, armed and dangerous. Let's hope he never has to learn the hard way.

I stayed where I was for a bit longer, lost in my own little celebration on behalf of the many who help the eagles here, of seeing another young sea eagle who was born to be wild, soar gracefully out of view.

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer

Come to Mull this autumn and see them for yourselves. Book a trip on 01680 812 556.