Love is in the air

There was something in the air this Valentine's week. Something had changed. There was more a sense of an urgency to Frisa and Skye. It's as if they've suddenly realised the clock is ticking, the nights are shorter, the days are longer. It may only be four weeks to go before that first precious egg appears. It was time to start making some decisions.

They were calling regularly to each other. Every few minutes the still air reverberted to their haunting cries. It seemed to set everything else off as well. A small family group of whooper swans on the loch, the parents and two cygnets started calling too! Not to be outdone, the local hoodies joined in. Not quite as melodic. And finally the buzzards got carried away and called loudly from high above the forest. Frisa flew purposefully to their old nest. She almost vanished from my view as she settled down as if she already had eggs! She kicked her talons out the back to form a scrape - a place that one day soon might be lined with dry moor grass in readiness for the clutch. Now Skye joined her for a few minutes. They jostled and nudged each other. They re-arranged sticks and then Skye launched off and floated down to the forest floor. A few minutes later, he was back with a huge larch stick. He struggled to land it properly and wrestled this way and that to get it into the right position. Then it was Frisa's turn and she followed his flight path to the rich stick grounds. Soon she was back too, hauling her branch onto the edge of the nest. A noisy fully-laden timber truck lumbered through the forest but the busy pair of eagles barely looked up from their toil. This is a working forest and the birds know that. So long as the truck sticks to its familar route and doesn't stop, they know it means no harm. In fact it's a familiar part of their daily life and the important business of forest harvesting can proceed.

And then an hour or so after they arrived on the nest, Frisa, quickly followed by Skye took off and headed out over the loch. They kept going across the hillside and then caught a thermal and started to rise. They made big wide circles in the air, hardly a flap between them, higher and higher. They flew in parallel, mirroring each others wing beats. I wondered if I might be about to witness that rarely seen courtship ritual of a full, spiralling talon-grapple. But then I remembered that Frisa and Skye don't seem to go in for that much anymore - even on Valentine's Day! Perhaps they've been together for so long that they feel secure enough? I thought I could just hear Frisa call out to Skye 'you don't bring me flowers anymore' but then they turned once more and went into a determined glide down, down towards a rocky knoll on the distant horizon. They must have been a mile or more away but in the movements of their distinctive miniature silhouettes, I could see that they clearly hadn't lost the mood. I could hear nothing but the crows and buzzards around me but with their heads thrown back again, Frisa and Skye were renewing their vows as only they know how. 

From my discreet distance, I felt slightly uncomfortable about watching them through the telescope at this tender, private moment. Skye edged towards Frisa and while a few months ago she had spurned his advances, this time she knew the time was right. I could just make out his flapping wings behind the rocks. A stunning, beautiful location overlooking their loch-side home with the snowy peak of Ben More as a back drop. Then they sat side by side, preening and looking around. It was time for me to leave them in peace. I looked back at their nest. Was it built up enough? Was this really their first choice of nest or did they have another site secretly on the go elsewhere in the forest. It won't be long, I hope, before they finally give up their secrets.  

Dave Sexton Mull Officer RSPB Scotland