Like mother like daughter

Only this week I was watching the fabulous Frisa with the winter's sun beaming down on her and thinking how much like her mother she looked. Of course to some, all white-tailed eagles will look the same. Maybe they do? But for a while there I was transported back 25 years to those lonely but wonderful days on the edge of the loch watching Frisa's mum Blondie raise the first wild bred chick in the UK for 70 years. How proud she would be of what Frisa and her faithful mate Skye have achieved since they first paired up in 1997 and all the chicks they've raised to fledging over the last 12 years.

Then tonight I was at home doing a bit of sorting in the household files and clearing out ancient bank statements, out of date documents and general rubbish. Stuffed into one of the pockets in the file was a note I'd written for someone for something ten years ago when the news first came through that the famous Blondie was missing, presumed dead. Just for old time's sake, I'll stuff it back into the file but before I do I'll write it out again for you here...

5 June 2000

Blondie RIP 1978-2000: "...an ornithological icon..."

In May 2000, the female sea eagle known as Blondie to her many admirers disappeared from her nest site on the Isle of Mull where she had just hatched this year's clutch of eggs. This behaviour was so out of character that it must be assumed she has died from causes unknown, probably natural. Despite a search by island staff, no trace of her has ever been found and over such remote and difficult terrain, it is unlikely we will ever know what happened. She was at least 21 years old and as she matured, her head plumage became a light, sandy blonde, hence her name. In 1985, Blondie became famous, with her mate, for being the first sea eagles to hatch and fledge wild bred young in Scotland for some 70 years. She was part of the original sea eagle reintroduction programme which started in 1975; she was hatched in Norway, transported to Scotland by the RAF and released by the Nature Conservancy Council (now Scottish Natural Heritage) from the project base on the Isle of Rum. Soon after she flew south to establish a territory on Mull in the early 1980s and is first thought to have laid eggs in 1984 but these failed to hatch. A year later, however, there was triumphant news as the first chicks were hatched in May and one young sea eagle eventually fledged successfully some three months later. The pair have since raised 15 chicks and have played a major role in re-establishing sea eagles as a secure species back where they belong in Scotland.

As one of the fortunate wardens watching that historic nest in 1985, I have followed Blondie's life ever since. As the news breaks of her loss, I am sitting behind my desk at RSPB's Scottish Headquarters in Edinburgh. I  write this as I remember the passing of an old friend:

"I can still see her now sitting at the edge of the wood overlooking the loch: her beautiful blonde head and that incredible beak looking even paler in the early morning sunshine. She was there every morning, rain or shine, taking a short break from the nest at dawn to preen and feed; often she'd just perch, gazing about her, ruffling her feathers, an occasional delicate scratch of her head with those huge talons. It would be nice to know if she ever wondered about us, perched in a tent on the hillside watching her every move? I don't suppose she did. When she moved back to the nest to feed her chicks, she was so careful, so tender. I think for me, it was love at first sight.

Since then, I have seen her on every holiday trip to the island. I usually knew where to find her; her favourite roosts, skyline lookouts, sometimes alone but invariably with her mate who has not always been so faithful (he spent a few seasons commuting between Blondie and another female on her nest in another glen) but he finally made the right choice and settled down. I can recall the anxiety we felt  as her first chick plunged into the loch and vanished; she circled the spot calling as we frantically scanned the surface for signs of life. The next morning, there was the chick fully recovered from the ordeal perched alongside her and the male. The perfect family portrait.

But now she has gone from our skies. The island will be an emptier place for me without her presence. Despite a valiant solo effort (with a helping hand from the RSPB) to keep this year's chicks alive, the male eventually abandoned the nest when he realised she was never coming back. Who knows what, if anything, an eagle 'feels' when the mate he's spent the last 20 or so years with, suddenly isn't there anymore? He was eventually discovered some weeks later roosting alone back at the original 1985 nesting site which they had not used or visited for several years. Perhaps he thought he'd find her there?

We hope he finds a new mate soon. Meanwhile, at least two of her offspring we know have found mates of their own and are nesting successfully. One of her daughters is a similarly striking bird and this year is raising two chicks. The dynasty will continue. The last time I saw Blondie back in April, she was sitting in an old larch tree, her head catching the Easter sunshine and looking better than ever. She tilted her head to one side, peered skywards and called loudly as a raven flew 'cronking' overhead. The next time I visit , and forever more I suspect, I'll still scan those favourite trees and skyline boulders and hope to see an eagle there. Her wild spirit will live on."

Right -  time to get back to the file spring clean.

Dave Sexton RSPB Mull Officer