Red-throated divers

There is something very primeval about the haunting calls of red-throated divers as they renew their marriage vows during the breeding season. Each spring the peaty lochans that punctuate the vast bogs of Sutherland and Caithness are brought to life by the evocative courtship calls of these inspiring birds as they return to raise their young. Red-throated divers breed in small numbers across the peat bogs of northern Scotland, but nowhere are they more numerous than on the Shetland Isles, where their favoured breeding lochans are both plentiful and close to their feeding grounds around the coast. And so it was to the UK’s most northerly outpost that I traveled in pursuit of one my favourite birds.

Divers – both red and black-throated are not only stunning birds when dressed in their smart breeding finery but their mysterious lifestyle and wailing calls make them an irresistible subject to try to photograph. It was perhaps no surprise then, that in my official role of Assignment Co-ordinator both these species found their way onto my commission list. In my defence, I am the most northerly positioned of the 2020VISION Photo Team (by 15 miles) and so I felt there was some justification on the grounds of carbon footprint for my ever so slightly biased allocation. Case closed! Fingers in ears – la, la, la, la, la!!!

So, having been persuaded to take on this onerous task (tongue firmly in check), I loaded up the campervan and set off across the North Sea for a three week adventure with a blinkered mission of nailing good images of red-throated diver. My plan was to photograph the birds in the vicinity of their nest, preferably with young chicks, so finding a suitable breeding loch was the first objective. I’d had a good site suggested to me, which I checked out immediately and found an incubating bird on a nest amongst cotton grass. This was a good start and more so since the bird was extremely confiding, not leaving the nest at all as I erected a hide nearby. Red-throats vary enormously in regard to their tolerance of humans and some individuals will leave their breeding loch altogether if they see a person approaching, even at a distance of over 500m away. I got a few shots straight away but left the hide in place for future use and after consulting the map I went off to look at other likely lochans nearby.

The first was about a mile or so away from the road over undulating moorland. As it came into view, I scanned the water with my binoculars and couldn’t believe my luck on seeing an adult and two young chicks. The lochan was in an ideal spot and would receive good light during the morning. With the images already forming in my mind, I headed back to the van to get my ‘coffin’ hide, which allows me to shoot from low level. Once again the adult bird was quite approachable and simply drifted over to the other side of the lochan as I put up the hide. Typically for Shetland it was windy with choppy water so I left them to it with a view to return the next morning at first light.

The day dawned still with thick fog shrouding the hilltop lochans but I gave it go anyhow as a trial run. The conditions weren’t great but at least the birds were performing well and appeared to be at ease with the hide. After a few hours the wind got up and further photography was pointless – time for lunch! For the next week conditions remained poor with grey skies ruining any chance of getting anything decent for the project. Frustratingly, the sun often came out during the middle of the day but the light at this time was too harsh and anyway it was always accompanied by a brisk breeze. I had to remain patient and content myself with seeking out otters and other wildlife, which was no real hardship.

I had some success with the diver nest in the cotton grass during a brief period one morning, going in close with a 500mm lens and 2x extender to get some head shots of the bird amongst the softly backlit cotton grass. The bird was sitting very tight, a clear indication that the eggs were about to hatch and sure enough 2 days later the adult was on the water with two young chicks. With only 4 or 5 days left of my trip I could feel the opportunity at the other site slipping through my fingers, but then there appeared to be a clearance in the weather with clear blue skies overhead. By now it was early evening but if I moved the hide to other side of the loch there would still be a chance of pictures in great light. I set off optimistically but on clearing the hill on route to the loch I could see a bank of cloud on the horizon – surely I wouldn’t be foiled again! I decided to leave the hide where it was and get in quickly but within minutes the cloud had obscured the low sun and it was lights out once more. I wasn’t happy!

The next day I went to the hide despite the weather and spent the morning photographing the birds in the fog. It was OK but not what I wanted. I also concluded that to get the shots I was really after I would ideally need to get lower still. I had envisaged this before leaving home and had brought along my 4 foot square wooden ‘Heath Robinson’ style floating hide, which had been taking up my bed area for the past two and half weeks! This was the ideal tool for the job, but it was also heavy and cumbersome to carry. I’d never carried it more than a 10m previously – in fact I’d never even used it before apart from ‘launching’ it on the garden pond to see if it floated. But this was no time to wimp out – it wouldn’t be that bad, would it? So, hide perched on shoulder and the rest of the contraption in the other hand I set off up the steep track. This bit wasn’t too bad albeit with a gate to get over. The tricky bit was lugging it over the soft peaty ground that was far from flat and was liberally punctuated with hollows and welly-grabbing sphagnum. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Finally after much huffing and puffing and ever more frequent rests, I made it to the edge of the loch. It was lunchtime – I was hungry, thirsty and knackered, so I dumped it and trudged back to the van to recharge my batteries.

The following morning was brightish so I decided to formerly christen the hide. I somewhat nervously launched the wooden platform topped with a dome hide onto the water, after first fastening it to a hide pole to avoid the humiliation of it floating out of reach. The job then was to ‘get in’. Sporting a pair of chest waders, I eased myself into the square hole in the middle of the hide from where my legs dangled whilst I rested on my elbows. The scary bit though was attaching £10k worth of camera gear to a makeshift support just a few inches above the water. Whist all this was going on the birds were loafing about on the other of the loch non-plussed by my efforts. Unbeknown to me before I got in the water the loch thankfully wasn’t too deep and I could just about touch the bottom if I stayed close to the edge. Even so the water level was perilously close to the top of my waders and the last thing I wanted was for them to fill with water and pin me to the bottom of the loch.

After a while I got a bit more confident and was able to move around quite freely. I positioned myself in a suitable spot that gave me a good view of most of the loch and waited for the divers to drift my way. I began by shooting them with the 500mm lens but before long they were coming too close so I had to waddle back to the edge of the loch and swap to the 300mm lens. The loch was fairly calm, but still the light was overcast. Even so, it was good just to be getting something. After a few hours the divers were completely relaxed to the point where they tucked their bills under their wing and went to sleep revealing the stripes on the back of their head and neck perfectly.

With just two days left I was back on the water the next morning by 0600. It was foggy again but there was a hint of the sun poking through so I was optimistic of getting something in better light. I’d been photographing for about an hour when the sun suddenly broke through and bathed the divers in beautiful light for the very first time. Finally, I nailed a few images that did justice to these amazing birds, the sunlight bringing out the deep red colouring on their throat. It wasn’t to last though and within 5 minutes the sun disappeared and didn’t return for the rest of the morning.

However, there was better to come when a non-breeding adult suddenly landed on the loch at a time when both of the resident pair were present. All hell broke out with the resident pair trying to drive off the interloper, which they did quite quickly but this then sparked them into their full courtship display, which is somewhat reminiscent of great crested grebes. Side by side, the pair rose up almost clear of the water and paddled frantically with their feet as they ‘danced’ across the loch – fantastic!. This was followed by a good deal of wailing calls until eventually things calmed down and the male flew off to catch fish for the chick. It was behaviour that I hadn’t witnessed before and was a fitting finale to my time spent with these enchanting birds and further fueled my appetite to return in the future to continue the story.

P.S. Sorry it went on a bit!!