Well it may seem like a long time for some of you since the last blog on Mull eagles but believe me, it isn't - at least it shouldn't be and for me, for one, it wasn't. I wrote one on Saturday night. I mean with no X-Factor or Strictly now, we have to fill our Saturday evenings somehow. I clicked on 'Publish' only for the screen to go blank. Gone. Lost forever in that great blog in the sky. Oh how we laughed...
Twenty four hours later, Sunday evening, with composure somewhat regained and a large glass of vino alongside, off I went again. Plenty of time before Dancing on Ice - The Skate Off (hey, it's Mull in January, give us a break!). Finished! This time I'll play it safe. I'll press 'Save but don't publish' just so I can review it and check for typos. Click. Gone. Blank screen. Lost again in that black hole of blogging.
I carefully placed the new laptop on the floor, downed my Mull Pottery goblet of wine, went quietly into the garden and with the weekend's gale still raging, I screamed very loudly and for several minutes at the scudding clouds and occasional stars. Frisa and Skye might well have heard me at Loch Frisa. So I'm sorry but I couldn't face another attempt...until now... and I'm saving it every few seconds.
After I'd finished yelling I suddenly felt very guilty about the poor chickens who had indeed come home to roost and at that point must have been terrified in their luxury hen house at the screaming banshee outside and probably wished they'd stayed where they were. I said 'sorry chickens' and retreated back into the warm. For it was the chickens which had formed the core of the weekend blog update but despite now writing it twice I can't quite remember what I wrote. I recall the chickens had been spotted in the school vegetable patch by my youngest daughter Olivia (7).
At break time she burst into the staff room to announce to the startled teachers having a quick coffee themselves that her chickens were in the school yard. Now the three chickens had been my slightly unusual but highly seasonal Christmas present to the family (Geddit? Three French hens, two turtle doves...etc). Except they're not French. For anyone still following this brief diversion from the eagles, the chickens are apparently British Orpington x Indian Game crosses. I adapted the kids play house with a bit of DIY and provided roosting perches and nesting box (not that there are any eggs yet - too young and wrong time of year I'm reliably informed) but it's still a highly sought after bijou residence.
So by the time I was ready to go and round them up after their bid for freedom, there they were, all three of them, sitting on the fence, ready to launch themselves back into the garden. And as I was standing there reflecting on this turn of events, first Henrietta (original huh?), then Pepper and finally Chestnut flew at full speed across the grass and into the shrubbery.
As a birdy type I don't know why I was so surprised to see that these birds could actually fly! I always thought chickens were only capable of a short flutter but these three showed flight skill worthy of any pheasant or grouse. We had to keep them inside all day during Saturday's violent storms as we feared they might get picked up and blown across the Sound of Mull. Amazing and strangely satisfying that our three hens had come home all on their own.
Talking of pheasants, the three chickens are forming an unhealthy friendship with Rainbow our resident pheasant - much to the disgust of his normal three hen pheasants which follow him around. The hens are also staking their claim on this territory by seeing off the greedy herring gulls which descend en masse to eat the kitchen scraps. They put up quite a defense and the gulls have more than met their match.
And so there we are, you are now up to date with the Mull chicken blog. Fear not, normal eagle service will be resumed shortly. There's not even time to tell you about the amazing encounters I had when I went to try and find Mara near the point of his satellite fix on 8 January; of the relentless 30 minute pursuit of a young male sea eagle (was it Mara?) by three aggressive young female sea eagles - I hope he escaped; of the young golden eagle which plunged into a herd of red deer hinds and calves scattering them in all directions - quite remarkable scenes; of the tantalising report of a young sea eagle at Loch Awe with red tags and the letter 'I' - was it our famous Springwatch chick Itchy from 2005? I'm following it up.
So much to tell you about but that will all have to wait a while. I'd better see if this thing publishes successfully tonight. I hope it does - but don't count your chickens.
Dave Sexton, RSPB Scotland Mull Officer