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The Guardian - UK
The Guardian - UK
Environment
Amanda Thomson

Country diary: The awful relief of seeing gannets in flight

A gannet flying low across the water.
‘I’ve never been so relieved to see the distinctive shape of a gannet flying low across the water.’ Photograph: Murdo MacLeod/The Guardian

It’s the change of season, and everything is in flux, including us. Lured by reports of great shearwater migrations and storm petrel sightings, we take the CalMac ferry across the Minch and back again all in the same day, purely for the possibilities.

The journey out – from Ullapool on the Scottish mainland to Stornoway in the Outer Hebrides – starts quietly for birds, but the views towards the great mountains of Assynt and the Summer Isles do not disappoint. As the ferry goes into more open water, kittiwakes swirl to the north, and auks, now in their winter plumage, dot the water.

We see our first gannets too. I’ve never been so relieved to see their distinctive shape flying low across the water. I’ve always taken for granted that they would be part of journeys such as this. Scotland holds over 50% of the world’s gannets, and there are colonies dotted around our coastline, but they’ve been decimated by avian flu over this last year, along with bonxies – great skuas – and other bird species too.

We watch as an occasional gannet soars then twists and darts into the water before bobbing up and resting for a few seconds, then lifting off again. On the return journey, a flurry of activity to the north reveals a darker, heavier bird chasing more kittiwakes – a bonxie. Manx shearwaters skim between the waves, and a lone sooty shearwater appears briefly before disappearing in the swell.

One, then two, three, six gannets fly alongside the ferry, seeming to hover just above us, their 2 metre wingspans holding them steady. They escort us for 10, 15 minutes, almost until we reach the calmer waters and shelter of the Summer Isles again.

One of them falls back and flies parallel to where I am standing on the deck. I can see its eggshell-blue eye, the outline of black around its bill and eye, and the yellow of its head. They seem so powerful, navigating the wind and the ferry’s airstream with supreme certainty. But I wonder how many more there ordinarily would be, and how much we still stand to lose.

• Country Diary is on Twitter at @gdncountrydiary

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