R dropped J off at Clickimmin Broch in Lerwick in the morning. J spent the morning looking round the broch and Lerwick library, museum, and arts centre. R drove up to the Vidlin in the north-west mainland to look for otters. R spent an hour at Swining Voe. A tern colony was aggressive when passed, and redshanks also launched dummy attacks. Eiders with young were out on the voe. No otters. Then R stopped for an hour at Weisdale Voe again, which had looked promising yesterday, and then met J at 13:00 back in Lerwick.
We had lunch at the Mareel arts centre cafe, and then dashed across to the Victoria Pier to board the boat for the Noss boat trip. R had been exchanging emails and texts with Marie from Seabirds and Seals for a few days trying to book the trip. We’d originally wanted to do it on Wednesday morning, but that was fully booked when we asked, so we agreed on Thursday morning. Then the weather forecast made Thursday’s sailing unlikely, and a couple of spaces became available on the Wednesday morning trip. We finally settled on Wednesday afternoon, and confirmed just an hour before the boat set off at 14:15.
The boat went around Bressay and out to Noss, where the seabird colonies were spectacular. Vast, sheer, granite cliffs, where every available ledge was crammed with guillemots, gannets and fulmars. We also saw one of the few kittiwake colonies on Shetland.
After Noss we pulled into a small bay and skipper Brian put down a remote-controller submersible and we watched underwater video as he drove it around the kelp beds. It was mostly just seaweed, and a starfish.
Turns out our guide, Kenny Johnson, makes mandolins and fiddle pickups at Skyinbow.
Back at the harbour, a grey seal came up to the jetty.
We stopped at the co-op to get some “tusk” fish for dinner. A local type of ling, related to cod.
After dinner we set off for the boat trip to Mousa to see the storm petrels. The boat was due to leave at 10:30. We went out a bit earlier and stopped en route to look for otters, but didn’t see any.
At Sandsayre harbour we got on the Mousa boat with about 20 other people. An otter was spotted on a rock, and we watched it swimming and fishing for a bit.
The boat was operated by the skipper and his son. It took 15 minutes to get to Mousa, where we were divided into groups with a guide for each. Our guide was the boat skipper. He told us about the island of Mousa and about the habits of the storm petrel: the small birds spend the winter in the southern Atlantic or Indian Ocean and return to Mousa to breed in May. The parents take it in turns to sit on the single egg, with other parent flying off long distances to feed. They swap over at dusk (so around midnight at this time of year) to avoid predators. Their legs are poorly-adapted for walking, so they’re quite immobile once on the ground. The birds on the nests make a churring sound at night, as they anticipate the return of their mates.
We walked to the Iron Age broch.
The churring sound was coming from dry-stone walls that we passed on the way.
The broch is the best-preserved of its type anywhere, and is at least 2000 years old. It’s double-walled, with a staircase climbing round between the walls to the top. We climbed the staircase to the top. The steps were very narrow.
The storm petrels started to return after midnight. A few at first, and then hundreds, looking and flying like bats in the half-light, spinning round the broch. Inside too, they whirled around close to our heads and around our legs. When occasionally one became disorientated and flopped to the ground it struggled to get airborne again.
Petrel numbers here have risen over recent years, in spite of the presence of human visitors, to whom the petrels seem completely oblivious. One theory is that humans deter the petrels’ main predators, the bonxies and greater black-backed gulls.
The boat got back at about 1:30am. Bed at 2:30.
