Mara and friends

After being away for a few days, I always need to get a quick fix of the big birds. So I headed into the Valley of the Eagles to see who was about. It's weird: there are some days when you think you know where to look, where to go. How wrong can you be? The conditions were perfect: clear blue frosty skies, even a hint of some warmth in that winter sunshine. But try as I might I just couldn't connect with anything. Not an eagle in sight. I scanned the ridges; I focused on the favourite perches, I strained my ears to hear even the most distant sea eagle call. All was silent. Nothing stirred. I ventured deep into the glen in the hope that they may be feasting quietly on a deer carcase carried down stream in the rain the day before. A buzzard jumped up from the river bed. A hooded crow sat quietly on the bank while a fabulous grey male hen harrier floated back and forth over the flooded rushy pastures. But no eagles. Beinn Talaidh was still thick with snow on the summit but where before I've watched eagles chasing hares or each other, the slopes were still and lifeless.

By now the tea in my so-called travel mug was barely luke warm but I drank it anyway. Why can't they design one that actually works? At the next gate, I got out of the landrover and stepped straight into a huge, crusty cow pat, my foot almost disappearing into the oozing depths. I cursed that too. When I got back in, having submerged my boot in an icy burn to wash it, I discovered my boot leaked and the cold, wet ache from my sodden foot crept relentlessly up my leg. Oh yes and the front right tyre looked worryingly soft. Please don't let me have a puncture up here! My day watching eagles in the beautiful frosty sunshine was going downhill fast.

And then a dark silouette broke the skyline. At last! I forgot my pathetic woes. A dark young sea eagle was circling up on the weak thermals. Once or twice, as it turned, I thought I could see something on its back. Then the sun caught it and I convinced myself there was the quickest, faintest glint. Then I convinced myself I was seeing things, just wishful thinking. But as it soared nearer, the small pack and then the aerial became clearer and clearer - it was one of our satellite tagged chicks! Suddenly it went into a long, steep dive and headed into the hillside and eventually crashed into a feeding frenzy of three other young sea eagles and numerous hoodies. So they'd been there all along. They all scattered as our bold bird took charge of the deer carcase. The size difference with one of the larger youngsters showed our bird to be a male - it was Mara. My first confirmed sighting of him since last autumn. I felt a tingle of pride and relief that he looked so fit and well. His temporary control of the feast didn't last long. The bigger female lunged back at him and knocked him sideways as she mantled over her frozen prize. He sat back and waited his turn. He could be patient. He had already learned not to take unnecessary risks. He looked fantastic and in great shape sitting alongside his friends on the hillside. As ever, by late afternoon my time was running out and the light was fading. It had been a long search but it had ended very well indeed. All four eagles were still there when I left. Mara still waiting for his chance to jump in to feed before nightfall. Something to sustain him during the long, cold frosty night. After the glorious sunny weather yesterday, I thought I'd go back this morning to see him again but at dawn the cloud had descended, the drizzle was falling steadily and I wouldn't even have been able to see across the loch. The word 'dreich' summed it up perfectly. Mara probably hadn't gone very far but maybe the satellite data will tell us soon? I just hope it's not another four months before I see him again!

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer