The blonde bombshell

I can see her now. I was hiking through a glen on Mull when two huge dark birds caught my eye over the far ridge. Two immature sea eagles were soaring along the ridge. Often with their legs down they looked like hang gliders drifting back and forth. One was bigger then the other. I'd stumbled across a young pair (at that time, it was the only pair) and they looked to my inexperienced eye to be prospecting a potential nest site. The female of that young pair, although I didn't know it at the time, was set to become one of the most famous sea eagles of all time. With her faithful mate beside her, they would go on to raise the first wild bred sea eagle chick in Scotland for some 70 years.

Fast forward five years. It was 1985. By now this pioneering pair were full adults and the female was particularly striking. He pale sandy head just gleamed in the sunlight; her eyes and beak a rich yellow and her white tail just dazzled as she soared over that same wood I'd seen her as a youngster over all those years before. She quickly became known as Blondie and as the years passed, that pale blonde plumage extended further down her back and her front. Anyone who was lucky enough to encounter her, friend or foe, couldn't help but comment on her stunning appearance. A year earlier this pair had unsuccessfully tried to breed nearby but their single infertile egg never hatched. The male just wasn't old enough. But this was to be their year. The story of that first historic chick and the terrifying adventure that overtook him on his maiden flight will live with me forever and may well be a blog in its own right in the weeks to come. For now though I just wanted to pay tribute to Blondie.

She had been taken from her nest in Norway as an unfledged chick as part of phase one of the reintroduction project. She was released on the Isle of Rum a few weeks later but quickly found her way to Mull which would become her home for the rest of her long life. She paired up and for the next 20 years, she would become the mother of many young sea eagles, some of which - like Frisa hatched by Blondie in 1992 - are still with us and breeding successfully today. She was a true pioneer in every sense of the word and it is no exaggeration to say that without her and her mate's productivity, the whole sea eagle reintroduction project would not be the success it is today.

For me as a young RSPB warden watching her way back then in those momentous times, she would always hold a very special place in my heart. I used to love watching her sitting in her favourite dead oak tree at the front of the nest wood. She would have been incubating eggs or brooding chicks all night and then would be relieved by her mate at dawn. She'd fly from the nest to the tree and sit in the early light, preening and occasionally calling back to her mate on the nest. As the first rays of the morning sun peaked over the hills and shone straight at her like a spotlight, she looked amazing - her head at times looking almost as white as a bald eagle.

In 2000, I'd watched her at that year's nest. She'd just hatched her latest chick and was brooding it carefully - as she'd always done. It was always a great comfort to see her each time I visited Mull. It really was like visiting an old friend. As I turned away to continue my walk, I couldn't know it would be the last time I'd ever see her. A week later I was called by the RSPB Mull Officer at that time to say that Blondie was missing, presumed dead. He thought I should know. One day she just hadn't returned from her hunting trip. Her mate had carried on brooding their chick as long as he could before he too was forced to leave to feed himself and get food for the chick. He valiantly kept this going for a few days and got some help from us too by leaving food out that he could find easily and quickly. But he couldn't do everything and during a spell of wet, cold spring weather, Blondie's last chick succumbed to the elements. After a few days, his lonely vigil was at an end and he eventually drifted away from the nest and spent his days searching for Blondie. He would often sit nearby and just call and call - but there was to be no answer. She was found many weeks later, high on the hill, lying in the heather. It was too late to carry out any tests to determine what had happened to her on that fateful hunting trip but we suspect she'd been the target of another eagle attack - perhaps by a neighbouring sea eagle or golden eagle whose territory she accidentally strayed into. We would never know. But what a fabulous, wild, free and productive life she'd had. We all owe her a great debt and I will never forget her.

In the autumn I went back to the original nest wood where Blondie and her mate had reared that first chick 15 years previously. The place they'd courted and built their early nests. I hadn't seen them there for many years but I thought I'd scan across the loch anyway, just out of habit. The image that filled my binoculars momentarily took my breath away. There, sitting on Blondie's favourite oak, was her mate. He looked content enough and was preening in the soft, fall sunshine, just as she always used to. Often they'd sit there together. On this October day with the bellowing of the stags echoing round the hills, he had come back to look one last time. Perhaps he thought he'd find her there. Perhaps I did too.

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer

2215hrs