FOULA 1992
by Tim Drew
Introduction
Having spent the July on the island as assistant leader with Brathay Exploration Group it was clear that this dramatic and remote island with its plentiful cover was shouting out for migration attention. We had read through the literature and past records and realized how scant they were. The island was either not great for attracting rarities, or had received little to no attention from migrant-seeking birders. We learnt that the island had rarely been visited during the key migration periods, especially in the autumn. It had even been dismissed as being ‘too far west’.
We were not going to let this stop us. So my brother, Jonathan and I set to, and planned our first visit. Living on Shetland at the time just meant it was a quick journey down the road and a short 15 minute flight over.
Jonathans new Swarovski binoculars had arrived in the post on the 3rd - just in time for our Foula expedition! He had been anxiously waiting and hoping they would arrive for this exciting moment- our birding and camping weekend to Foula!. On his return from work that Thursday, he was delighted to find they had arrived.
We got the camping gear sorted
the following morning and stopped off at a shop to buy matches, torches and
some food for the long weekend. We arrived at the Tingwall
airstrip and weighed in our rucksacks and bags. This was our first time flying
to the island, as my previous visit had been a 3hr boat crossing in July.
Excitement mounted as the 6 seater aircraft took off
from the runway and then buzzed higher and headed west. We had been on a
similar plane 2 years earlier to
The weather was calm and clear, enabling stunning views over west mainland, Papa Stour, and beyond, to the distant, cloudy prehistoric prominence of Foula.
The plane made a bumpy, but safe landing on the wee gravel airstrip, besides which all the islander’s seem to be gathered for their mail and provisions.
With adrenalin pumping we set foot on this under-watched wilderness with a rainbow over the Daal to welcome us. We quickly collected our gear from the rear of the plane and set off northwards to Ham to find a pitching spot. I had seen a suitable ‘sheltered’ spot by the burn from my previous visit which I thought would just about fit our tent.
Our eyes were in all directions. Jonathan was wondering what his first bird through his new binoculars would be. In just 5 minutes or so he was about to find out. We followed the road down a hill and were walking past a well-built house on our right (the Manse) when we saw a warbler feeding among a few thistles opposite. We dropped our bags and took a closer look through our bins. Our heads started reeling. In the first minute, as we tried to get better views from where we were, we just vociferated our thoughts (the great thing about birding with a really good mate, is that you can speak your thought processes without fear of being ‘put down’).
It appeared to be a Phylosc. Was it just a Chiff-chaff? No? Maybe not a Phylosc? Reed Warbler? No? We crept closer. It had a super! The excitement mounted, Tim tentatively suggested Paddyfield?
A car passed and flushed it to the centre of the field 20m or so away. Jonathan leapt over the fence while I stayed with the luggage. His binoculars lifted “Booted” he cried, “it’s a Booted Warbler!”
I ran to the spot and we watched this fantastic wee warbler for the next 20mins or so, making a sketch and notes. Meanwhile, almost unbelievably, it flew to within inches of our feet - too close even for my brother’s new binoculars! What a start!
We walked now with what seemed
weightless bags in an ecstatic daze to ring the county recorder about the bird
(using what must have been one of the last A-B telephones in the country).
Unfortunately, it was not greeted with the enthusiasm we had hoped for. In fact
it almost seemed to be cautious skepticism, as, we were informed, ‘there was
nothing on
Standing outside the Post Office garden we met one of the locals, Jim Gear, a crofter who worked and lived by the post office. He told us of a big ‘fall’ of birds just a few days back that were ‘all over the island’. We gathered that the birds now on the island were remnants of that ‘fall’, including the Booted Warbler. He also told us a story of an American Robin which he had seen several years earlier feeding alongside Fieldfares, near the old post office in late autumn.
‘Whenever a gust of wind blew it toppled the Robin on its back, as it was not used to the conditions and had its back to the gusts coming off Hamnafield. The Fieldfares, sensibly, faced the wind and ducked their heads expectantly.’
He also had intriguing stories of a ‘Green’ Woodpecker that he had seen as a child that destroyed their wooden clothes pole due to its intense pecking, and more recently, of a large Lesser Whitethroat one day in early June (he pointed to the spot) and was adamant that it had been an Orphean Warbler!
Jonathan and I carried on our journey south with adrenalin rushing from Jim Gear’s stories. The Booted Warbler was still present and extremely accommodating, feeding alongside a slightly larger Garden Warbler. A Tree Pipit then landed in the same field – a good indication that there may be something rarer about. Further south we saw a Bunting fly from a field nearby, and then land some distance away, but despite running to relocate it we never saw it again. As we approached Hametoun, Jonathan decided to cross a fence a see what was in the long grasses near to where the Bunting had landed, while I stayed by the road. I saw a bird feeding on the roadside, so I looked through my binoculars.
‘Ortolan Bunting,’ I shouted.
He ran over and managed to see it immediately on the edge of the road. We both took it in turns with the ‘scope and leaning on each other’s shoulder as a tripod (carrying a tripod all day on Foula is not advisable).
Making our way further down, we saw a Redstart fly past and land on a ruined building. On arriving at the Bigging’s cottage at the southern most end of the island we found 4 Common Rosefinch, which included a red male, adult female and 2 young in their garden. Francis Ratter, a local (responsible for a few good finds on the island) said she had seen the male here all summer! We thought this very strange. What it possible that they had bred on the island? We also found a lesser Whitethroat and a Garden Warbler in the garden.
A Turtle Dove flew out of the old church nearby, and several Whinchat were perched on the surrounding Angelicas.
We headed back north, stopping at Francis Ratter’s garden, where we spotted a 1st winter Red-backed Shrike. We stopped by a rusting tractor to wait for the 2nd plane of the day, just in case any birders came for the Booted Warbler, but only two passengers disembarked, neither of them birders.
Back in Ham we saw a Yellow Wagtail, two White Wagtails, Turtle Dove, and a fairly late, dark phase Arctic Skua over the valley. A Common Sandpiper was on the beach.
Before it got dark we re-checked
the post office garden and found a Barred Warbler on the fence at the edge of
the garden! We walked to the north of the Ham voe and
a had a wee stroll along the east shore, with Jonathan seeing the impressive
outline of the dramatic 3 peaks of Hamnafield, Sneug and the Kame up close for
the 1st time. We could have been miles from the sea, looking west. I
was soon to discover that the summit of the Kame is
also one step from the highest sheer cliff drop in
On heading back to camp we saw an
approachable early Snow Bunting feeding on the short turf by the rocky
coastline. We returned to our tent and had a celebratory beer after an
excellent days birding! Later that night I got up to go to the loo and noticed the starry
sky. I hoped it wouldn’t clear out the island’s migrants. But as I looked to
the north I spotted the northern lights! I called Jonathan. What a way to end a
truly great day’s birding - surely this island which had been mysteriously been
overlooked in the past, could be as good a migrant trap as
The morning eventually came, and
we were up before dawn in all excitement and looked through the bird books in
anticipation for the day ahead. The weather was sunny and calm and we made a
hot drink and quickly downed our cereal while watching a Common Rosefinch in the
As we wandered through Ham and the surrounding area, it soon became apparent that there had been a bit of a clear-out due to the clear skies overnight. We met a guy who was fishing along the burn with a worm. He had caught a few fish, including a 3 pounder under the road bridge. He told us not to drink the water as there were dead sheep further up the burn!
With the weather sunny and calm,
and little hope of new arrivals, we ‘lifted our eyes unto the hills’ and
decided to climb them. The highest point, is the Sneug
and it looks all of it’s 1310ft – it is Shetland’s
second highest summit. From its top, on a clear day, you can see the Orkney
Isles,
With the bare rations we had, we made our way along the road to the north. We hadn’t been this way yesterday so it was unexplored territory. We saw a Red-backed Shrike on a fence at Harrier but it seemed remarkably quiet. We headed up the hills, a steep climb starting from the north - we found out later that it was not the easiest way to ascend.
It was flat calm and hot, I was already running low on my juice and having several rests. We passed a wee circular pool half-way up, and then scrambled up a very steep last climb, until eventually and all too suddenly we reached the top of the Kame. It is leg quaking to peer down and see the sheer enormity of this sheer drop. The fulmars were circling en-mass and appeared as dots against this colossus.
Once on the tops it was
relatively easy walking following a ridge to the Sneug
summit. It was a perfectly clear day with little or no haze, you could easily
make out
Heading over the 3rd
We headed back north checking on the Booted Warbler, which was still present and watched it for a while, it proved still remarkably obliging - oh to have had a camera then!! The fisherman who we met earlier in the day invited us in for a drink there was also another guy there (Brian Taylor’s son). We sat down and shared a couple of drinks with them, although they were at least ‘a few’ and they told us of island stories and to help ourselves to whatever was in the cupboards or even a crab in the sink! When we left we checked the sink and sure enough there were 2 live crabs in it! Then it was back in the tent and to celebrate with a can or two of Guinness. The wind started to pick up overnight and from the usually sheltered east - often good for migrants, but not for the tent!
The wind was now an easterly force 7 with pounding rain,
keeping us in the tent until
The minister saw us and asked us back to his chalet to cook some food and have a hot drink, which we did. We watched a group of Turnstones feed on the short turf from the window. Having realized that camping was not such a good idea, we asked Marion Taylor if we could use the grass turfed cottage to shelter the night in. She said ok, and we packed the wet tent away and lay down listening to the wind and rain and glad we were dry and relatively warm.
We caught the afternoon flight back, which due to the still windy weather was an hour late. We were joined by two other guys at the Tingwall airstrip. When we returned home to Sullum on the mainland, we sat relaxed and contented, and started planning our next trip back the following year!