Off-colour, High Summer Wizardry (incorporating a Political Interlude about Past and Future): Unst, Shetland, 14th-31st July 2019

“Was I snoring last night?” I asked as we disembarked in Lerwick on Sunday 21st July. “Yes? Thought so. I’ve got a bit of a sore throat.” Turns out it was more than that. Upon returning to Unst I raced round several sites looking for Two-barred Crossbills as the largest invasion ever had occurred while I was away. I was supposed to go to the Keen of Hamar at lunchtime, but I was tired so I didn’t go. Instead, I watched the Cricket World Cup Final, possibly the most outrageous one-day game ever, with England finally winning the cup by drawing with New Zealand, even after the super over! As soon as it was over I was in my bed, shivering uncontrollably for a good 15 minutes before falling asleep.

The next two days were given over to the Unst panto, The Wizard of Oz. Fortunately, my appearances were brief, as the Voice of Oz and, of course, a Yeti carrying a placard with Theresa May on it. There was a full run-through on Monday morning, followed by the matinee in the afternoon. I sat, almost immobilised, waiting for my cues. By the time the matinee ended, just after five, it was time to return to my bed. I felt a little better the next day for the evening performance which, from backstage, sounded as though it went down a storm, especially George Spence as the tinman, but credit must go to all the others who put in hard work to make it go so smoothly.

Abominable Voice of Oz (and the real Wizard of Oz) – all Wizard of Oz photos courtesy of Rob Brookes

The Gandalf look

Contemplating the decreasingly small differences

I finally succumbed and went to the doctor on the Thursday. He gave me a week’s supply of antibiotics. A week!? You usually get three days worth – what must my throat have looked like? That said, I think I was given sleeping pills instead. One day I don’t think I even managed six hours out of bed. It all meant that, for the second year running, I was on the island for Unstfest, but saw very little of it.

Unstfest carnival

I did struggle out of my pit to catch up with some of the birds I had missed: an adult Rosy Starling that had been at Baliasta just before I returned was caught up with at Northdale on 18th, while a few new Two-barred Crossbills (I saw two males and a juvenile), and a few Common Crossbills, also appeared from 18th.

Two-barred Crossbill at Baltasound on 20th

[political interlude]

On 24th July, the educated buffoon Boris Johnson became Prime Minister after being elected leader of the Conservative Party by its members. More people voted for the RRS David Attenborough to be named Boaty McBoatface than voted for the current PM. That decision was overturned for being clearly ludicrous.

I am, it is sad to say, becoming worn down. The inexorable swing to the right seems almost unstoppable. Johnson selected the most right-wing cabinet this country has ever seen – a Home Secretary previously sacked after being accused of co-operating with a foreign power and who has backed the death penalty, a failed banker for Treasurer, the abominable Rees-Mogg. Every time we think we have the worst set of politicians ever, the Conservatives come up with an even more diabolical.

We are now heading full steam for a disastrous No Deal Brexit in an increasingly polarised and splintered dis-United Kingdom. Increasingly, the division in this country can be described in terms of attitude to the past and the future. The 2016 referendum was between people who looked to the past and those who look to the future. Two disparate and opposite ends of the political spectrum united in looking back to the past – the blue-rinse shires, full of tradition and nostalgia, achingly longing for dreams of Empire, still believing that Britannia rules the waves, and the declining, crumbling former industrial areas, still suffering from the loss of industry began by Thatcher and continued by most governments since, content to see manufacturing and services sold to and run by overseas organisations with no connection or responsibility to their workbase. These embittered former Labour voters have looked to the new right and joined with the entrenched Tories harking back to past glories, to try and recreate a past that can’t be recreated, blaming change on anyone but themselves or their political leaders. Against this unholy alliance, there are some areas still looking forward – cosmopolitan, outward-looking. Yes, there has to be local involvement and local decision-making, but this must be taken in context, with a wider worldview. We are never going to solve our problems by pretending the rest of the world isn’t there.

[/political interlude]

My first day out after finishing the antibiotics was to go up Hermaness and assist with the diver-ringing on Thursday 25th July. In actual fact, I ended up being ringer-in-charge as George Petrie was the only other ringer available and he did the Valla Field ridge. I only did Hermaness itself, with Martin Schofield and Martha Thomson of RSPB. I bowed out after the reserve and let them do Sneuga (without ringing any, although George returned and mopped up the last few a little later). Had a chat with Martha and discovered her ancestry – great grand-daughter of Stewart Thomson of Unst, grand-daughter of Stewart Thomson of Fair Isle. It was as well that I left after Tonga as, although I felt fit enough when I left the others, I was exhausted by the time I returned home, and was in bed before nine! It was an enjoyable day though, and being ringer-in-charge at Sothers Big, using extension ropes, and catching two chicks and an adult, was quite pleasing. The adult had been ringed just south of Hermaness as a chick and had been caught with its male parent, which had been ringed on Hermaness! We ringed six chicks on Hermaness (three broods of two and there was another single chick that we deemed was too large to attempt to catch).

On Friday 26th July I was up Hermaness again to complete the Kittiwake monitoring and I then hung around to see a few Puffins in the sunset. Another trip up Hermaness on Sunday 28th July was to complete the Bonxie productivity work. In between, on the Saturday, we did the beached bird surveys. Families of Common Terns on the beach could have been locally bred – but who knows?

Puffins at sunset

Gannets

The Neap

Bog Asphodel on Hermaness

Juvenile Dunlin on Hermaness

Common Terns at the Easting

Dave ‘Super’ Cooper is already out looking for migrants, and found a highly unseasonable and predictably skulking adult Great Reed Warbler at the Shore Station at Burrafirth on Saturday 27th July.

Migrant birds should not have been a great surprise, as I was catching some decent migrant moths: a Brightline Browneye on 23rd, up to three Nutmegs on 28th-30th and a Dunbar and two Ear spp. on 29th were the highlights. There were migrant hoverflies around as well, including Meliscaeva auricollis, which is still fairly unusual on Unst.