RESEARCH AND RESCUE ON BRITAIN'S BIRD ISLANDS

During the late summer and early autumn of 2015, I visited some of the UK's most impressive seabird colonies to tell a story about the largest and most charismatic seabird in the north Atlantic - the northern gannet. With the assistance of conservation charity Wildscreen, I documented the pioneering work of seabird scientists and conservationists currently working to understand and protect the UK northern gannet population, which is a whopping 75% of the entire global population. Below is a phone video clip shot during a visit to The Bass Rock - the largest single rock gannetry on Earth... 

The first part of the story was to document pioneering research by a team from Leeds University, looking into gannet flight behaviours in 3D using miniaturised high resolution GPS loggers and altimeters. The devices are attached to the gannets to assess the risks that proposed offshore wind farms will have on their foraging behaviours by finding out where the gannets are fishing and most importantly, how long they spend flying at the same height as the rotor blades of wind turbines. They are also attaching loggers to immature gannets for the first time as little is known about their first few years of life, when they must learn how and where to find food and then prospect for a partner and defend a nest site. To find out more about the project, you can visit my Northern Gannet gallery here, visit James Grecian's (pictured below) website or read Jude Lane's great blog on the Bass Rock gannets.

For the second part of the story, I documented a desperate situation on RSPB Grassholm Island - a large gannetry 8 miles off the coast of Pembrokeshire, where plastic waste from Atlantic fisheries is causing devastation. Synthetic plastic fishing nets and monofilament fishing lines discarded in the Atlantic are washed into close proximity with Grassholm by ocean currents like the Gulf Stream and are mistaken by the gannets for natural fibres like seaweed and kelp. They bring the man-made fibres back to the island to line their nests, turning them into death traps, which entangle adults and more often, developing juveniles. It is estimated that there is now over 18 tons of plastic waste on Grassholm. I went out with a team of volunteers led by RSPB Ramsey Island wardens Greg and Lisa Morgan, who visit annually on a rescue mission to save as many entangled and struggling birds as they can. These guys are all heroes and often put their own lives at risk to save these desperate birds.

This bird was literally being strangled by a tightening noose as it dangled from the cliff edge and Greg crept carefully towards it so that he could cut it free and save its life. You can view a video from of the daring rescue in the video made by Greg below. For more about the story, visit my Northern Gannet gallery or read Greg's blog.

This story needs to be told as the only solution to this problem is education about marine plastics and legislation to prevent their discard. For maximum exposure, I worked with the Daily Mail to publish a piece in their national newspaper and on the Mail Online, which is the most read newspaper website in the world. You can read it online here.

MISSION MUSK OX - DOVREFJELL, NORWAY

Musk Oxen have long been on my list of wildlife to see and photograph - they're massive formidable shaggy beasts, that can run as fast as Usain Bolt and they smash their skulls into each other during impressive battles over dominance. There's only one herd living wild in Europe, so there's only one place to photograph them and that's Dovrefjell National Park in Norway. I headed out in July, as although this isn't typically the best time to photograph them as there's no snow or much in the way of head-smashing and they're typically high up in the mountains in small family groups, but it's when the calves are quite young and that's what I was aiming to shoot on this trip.

I met a Norwegian friend of mine at Trondheim airport and in typical Viking fashion, he insisted we head straight to the airport bar as we hadn't seen each other in a few years and needed to catch up. After sleeping that off, we picked up the car and headed south for Dovrefjell, where we had booked a cabin in the centre of the national park. Along the way we picked up supplies and I insisted on stopping at the roadside stores and mini museums to find out a bit of local information - I wasn't expecting to encounter my first musk ox or a stuffed polar bear..

When we arrived at our base, it was too late to head into the mountains, so we explored the local forest, hoping to see capercaille or perhaps moose, but apart from typical woodland birds, the only wildlife we encountered were the wood ants and these were some of the biggest wood ant nests I have ever seen (above right). That night we got chatting to the people at the campsite, who gave us some good local knowledge about where to look for musk oxen and some potential locations for arctic fox so we were all set for the next morning.

We headed out early as we wanted to cover as much ground as possible and do an extensive recce, so I left my heavy kit behind and we made our way up into the mountains. We saw plenty of lemmings on the way up, which looked good for arctic fox and found plenty of wildlife sign - above left, I have made a reindeer fur fluffstache and in the centre pic, I'm taking a snap of arctic fox scat. After exploring all day and a seriously epic hike, we got our first sighting of a musk ox family. We rewarded ourselves with some well deserved tea and biscuits and watched the musk oxen for about an hour to learn as much as possible about their behaviour. On the way down we saw another couple of family groups on another mountain, so I felt confident to head out properly the next day for a first shoot.

It was time for my friend to leave, so this time I decided to take as much kit as I could carry and enough food that I could comfortably stay on the mountain for at least a few days. After carrying all of my kit up the mountain and across a freezing ice-melt mountain river, I was already a bit shaky, so my first proper encounter with a fully grown adult musk ox was more than a little unnerving. I had found a group of adults feeding together with no calves, so I wasn't too worried about them being aggressive and I got myself in position so that I could shoot sideways as they traversed towards me across the side of the mountain. As the first one appeared over the brow of the ridge and we were face-to-face without anything but a few tufts of grass between us, I suddenly realised how big they were and how small I was, so I made a few movements and backed off a little so they could see me and weren't suddenly surprised.

After our initial encounter, we all relaxed and I did my best to stay in front of them so that I could photograph them feeding with the mountains on the other side of the valley behind them. For big animals, it's surprising how quickly they move, even when they are grazing, and it wasn't long before they had disappeared up and over the other side of the mountain. I couldn't carry on any higher, so watched them head off into the distance and decided to head for the patches of snow on the peaks on the other side of the valley. It was a long trek, but I had been told that musk oxen often stick to patches of snow to stay cool during the day. After crossing another few rivers with my boots and kit on my head and another mammoth climb, I reached the plateau and found what I was looking for.

My first encounter was with a small group of cows and their calves and a single bull. I watched the path they were taking and got in front of them so I could photograph them as they came towards me. This was about as close as I got as this group were much more wary and even though I kept my distance and never blocked their path, I still got false charged once and had to drop my kit and run. After spending a little time with them and watching how they moved across the mountain, I decided to try and get a closer wide shot by firing my camera remotely from a distance. I left the camera on top of a rock that I hoped was in their path and hid behind a rock just far enough away that I wouldn't disturb them, but near enough to trigger the camera and waited...

It's not the perfect shot, but I was pretty lucky that they behaved as anticipated and walked straight towards my camera and into frame. After this, I spent a few more hours tracking them from a distance, but as the light faded and they started to head off into another valley, I decided to head home. The mosquitoes were coming out, there were no musk oxen, I was nearly out of food, it was cold and I was exhausted, so picked a route and headed back down into the valley. I had to cross another 3 freezing and fast flowing rivers and got pretty wet, but it made me appreciate putting my feet up with a beer even more when I got back to the cabin and just as I sat down on the porch an epic thunderstorm broke which was much better to watch than be caught in.

After saying goodbye to the musk oxen, I decided to spend my last evening looking for foxes up near the arctic fox breeding station. There's a breeding programme being coordinated across Scandinavia as there are surprisingly few arctic foxes in mainland Europe. Sweden and Norway have an ok population, but there are hardly any in Finland and the only place they are doing well is in Iceland. The breeding station regularly releases tagged and chipped foxes and there are many feeding stations up in the mountains to help them survive after they are released. I got chatting to some of the scientists and found that it's a really interesting conservation story, that I hope to come back and document in the future.

On the last night, I was invited to a local mountain festival, so I finished up the trip drinking and feasting Viking style. I've got a few Norwegian friends, so I already knew they could party, but this was the first time I had experienced the Viking in its natural environment - things got pretty messy and it was definitely a night to remember. Dovrefjell is an awesome location, with loads of potential for great pictures so I'm sure my first visit to Norway won't be my last.

HUNTING BARBARIANS

I recently visited Fuerteventura in the Canary Islands on the hunt for Barbary ground squirrels - or "chipmunks" as they are known to the tourists. Squirrels and other small mammals are favourites of mine as if you can get up close with a wide angle lens, you can create some pretty awesome images with dramatic backgrounds. When I was studying wildlife photography at university, we were known by the rest of the photographers as "squirrel snappers", but little did I know at the time, that this would become a speciality of mine! The Barbary ground squirrels are non-native to Furteventura, and as their name suggests, come from the Barbary coast of Africa, but they've invaded and have completely colonised the island, from its coastal lowlands up to its highest volcanic peaks.

After picking up the car and checking in at the hotel, I hit the tourist trail, as I thought that scenic viewpoints might be a good place to start - any place where bus loads of tourists stop to eat their sandwiches is bound to attract plenty of wildlife looking for an easy meal and viewpoints are usually pretty good for an impressive backdrop. It wasn't long before I found my first squirrel, so I framed up a shot using the natural forms of the landscape to draw the eye to where I was hoping the squirrel would come and pose and waited with a remote trigger for it to appear.

As you can see from the phone snaps above, the wildlife on Fuerteventura is pretty bold - the centre pic is me feeding a wild raven, which I found out from a tour bus driver was known locally as "Geronimo". He was one hell of a charismatic bird and I came back to photograph him a couple of times. In fact, hanging out with Geronimo was probably one of my top wildlife experiences ever - you could literally shout Geronimo into the valley and before long, he'd appear and swoop in to land next to you.

This was my favourite image of Geronimo from the trip - I had to drag a boulder about half a kilometre as there were no nice looking natural perches, but it was worth it to capture a portrait of him standing proudly in front of his valley. I used my travel tripod - a Manfrotto 190 cxpro4, a Nikon D800, an off-camera SB-700 and Pocket Wizard +3s to trigger the camera remotely.

I spent the next few days hanging around coastal resorts and beaches as I wanted to make some storytelling images of the squirrels in context with people and the human environment in the background. They were most active around lunch-time and it's normally not advised to shoot in bright sunshine in the heat of the day, but I turned the conditions to my advantage, by underexposing and using fill-flash to light the underside of the squirrels. By balancing the squirrel with the bright sunshine beating down on the ground, you can make the sky look extra rich and punchy.

You can see the rest of my "chipmunk" pictures in the BARBARIAN gallery I have just put up. I spent the rest of the trip recceing some locations and researching some cool conservation stories - I'm hoping to come back to Fuerteventura in the future to document the Egyptian vulture and turtle reintroductions (below). I had a great time on Fuerteventura - there is some stunning scenery and I'd recommend hiring a car so you can really explore the whole island as there are some amazing beaches and unexpected gems to discover, particularly in the south of the island.

© Sam Hobson 2015

www.samhobson.co.uk

ALONE ON HANDA ISLAND

This summer I had an amazing opportunity to spend a few days alone with the wildlife on Handa Island - a rugged and remote island off the north-west coast of Scotland. I've been to Handa previously to photograph the seabirds, which nest on the cliffs around the Great Stack, but this time I was going there for the great skuas or "bonxies" as they are more commonly known..  

"Bonxie" is a Shetland word for a dumpy, untidy woman, which I think sells them a little short. In my experience, they are highly intelligent, full of character, fiercely territorial, wild, beautiful, tough and awesome birds, which inhabit wild and beautiful places.

Bonxies are pretty much seagulls on steroids - last time on Handa, I watched them terrorise the birds of the sea cliff, and have epic battles with each other over territory, so I couldn't wait to get back out there to photograph them. After an epic drive from southern England to our campsite in Durness, near Cape Wrath, I was excited to get out on the first boat the next morning, so arrived nice and early, only to be greeted with a big sign.. "Boat to Handa OUT OF SERVICE". NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! There were a few others around, moderately disgruntled at the inconvenience, but I was in denial - after such a mission to get up there and after looking forward to it for so long, I couldn't accept that this was the end of the story. I quickly got on the case and to cut a long story short, after buying a few people flowers and boxes of chocolates and getting the thumbs up from the Scottish Wildlife Trust, I managed to secure a ride out on a local fishing boat. It was Monday morning and the fisherman who had agreed to take us out there then broke the news that he wouldn't be able to pick us up until Thursday afternoon... RESULT! We would get the whole of Handa Island to ourselves for 3 days! Even better, we would get the morning and evening light, which you never really experience if you go out on a day trip.

We pitched up our tent in a little walled enclosure and headed out to explore and see what the bonxies were up to.. Everything was running a little late and most were only just laying, so there was still a fair bit of display and posturing as they reaffirmed partnerships and divided up territory. Bonxies are monogamous and there are around 300 pairs on Handa, so it is a bit of a regional stronghold for the species. The pair in the image above, had set up a territory not far from our camp and would call together in unison whenever another bird came near. In the background is the Old Man of Stoer and Stoer Point, just a little way down the coast.

On the little beach, just down from our camp at the start of the tern colony, a pair were tucking in to a rabbit. Over the next few days, we realised, this was a symptom of a larger scale shortage of their regular food - mainly fish and birds. There has been a general decline in fish discards, but this year, as the season was a little behind, the sea cliff birds were breeding late, so the bonxies were getting desperate for food.

It wasn't just rabbits either - we saw bonxies actively predating each other. Bonxies will take birds as big as a great black-backed gull and have few natural predators (apart from golden and white-tailed eagles), so the bonxie remains strewn about the island provided enough evidence that this cannibalistic behaviour wasn't a one-off.

Where we set up camp wasn't ideal for evening light, so as sunset approached, I'd head up to near the Great Stack, as there was a flat area with a few rocks dotted around that the skuas used as perches to call and display from. Bonxies can be pretty aggressive to anything invading their territory, so you have to be careful to watch your back if you don't want a clout on the back of the head, but I wanted to include a bit of the background in some of my images, so had to get a bit closer with a medium focal length lens. With a bit of patience, I managed to slowly shuffle close enough that I could use my 70-200mm, which was perfect for a nice shallow depth of field, whilst including the mountains in the background. I got into position, just as the light started to give everything a warm glow, framed up my shot and waited for the skuas to display. 

This set were my favourite from the trip, as I think they capture what makes a skua a skua - firstly the massive barrel chest and white wing flash that instantly identifies them from a distance and their defiantly brutish character - the pirates of the bird world!

© Sam Hobson 2014

www.samhobson.co.uk

1 WEEK TO PHOTOGRAPH THE BIRDS OF SAINT LUCIA

In April this year, I had a fantastic opportunity to travel to the Caribbean and photograph the birdlife of Saint Lucia. I was invited over by by Anse Chastenet - a beautiful eco-resort on the west side of the island, which has an amazing diversity of bird species inside their grounds and surrounding areas. They wanted to produce a brochure for birders and photographers with a fresh collection of original images to showcase their birdlife and entice more visitors to come and experience the island. They asked me to come and do my best to photograph as many species as possible in just over a week... The pressure was on! To help me achieve this mammoth task, the management had provided me with a guide and a driver to assist me if I needed them.. Sounded good to me so I wasn’t complaining!

Having been to the Caribbean once before to photograph the frigates and tropic-birds in Tobago, I knew what to expect from the temperature and conditions, but I quickly had to get up to speed with the birds and wildlife so that I knew which species to concentrate on and where to find them. Saint Lucia has 5 true endemics, and a number of endemic subspecies, so these were high up on my list.

As soon as I arrived, I knew I was in for a treat - as I stepped off the plane to get my first taste of the sweltering tropical climate, I could hear a cacophony of bird calls and song coming from the surrounding forest. After my meet and greet at the hotel, I was shown to my room right down by the beach, where I opened up the doors to the balcony and in a flash, a lesser Antillean bullfinch flew straight in and up to the rafters. After half an hour of giving me the runaround, I managed to catch and release it, using a net fashioned with a loose scarf and my tripod. I decided to use the air-con from then on, so switched it on and went out to explore.

I didn't have to go far, as right outside my room, there was a little flowering shrub that had attracted 2 species of hummingbird - the small Antillean crested hummingbird and the larger green-throated carib. 

Antillean crested hummingbird - one of the few crested hummingbirds.

Green-throated carib in flight, feeding on nectar.

There was a range of habitats right inside the grounds - forest trails with rivers and streams running through them, beautiful beaches and cliffs, a small plantation, a few small lagoons, a reservoir and of course the hotel itself, which has been designed in such a way that it feels part of the landscape, and is teaming with small garden birds and hummingbirds. After checking out the grounds, I headed back to my room and found a juvenile little-blue heron just outside, walking the shore-line and hunting for small crabs.

Juvenile little blue heron walking at the surf's edge at sunset, looking for pickings.

 Juvenile little blue heron stalking crabs.

From my beach-side apartment, I had easy access to the beaches and trails that start from Anse Mamin, a five minute walk to the next bay. It was great to explore and find my own little areas and watch and learn about each species’ behaviour, so that I could work out how to get close enough to get the best picture. One of my favourite places, although stinky and fly-infested because of the dry-season, was a small stream that ran down from the reservoir to the beach at Anse Mamin. Bare-eyed thrushes and Scaly-breasted thrashers flitted around in the trees above and spotted sandpipers, green herons and yellow-crowned night herons skulked in the stagnant stream. It took me a while to approach them and I probably picked up a few parasites along the way as I crawled down the muddy stream, but it seemed that if I could get the confidence of the green heron, then the rest of the birds seemed to settle down and let me get close enough to photograph them.

A green heron with what looks like a lovely blue stream, but is actually a stagnant pool with the reflection of the blue sky and Anse Mamin beach behind.

Yellow-crowned night heron hunting for fish in a small stream.

Perhaps my favourite photographic experience of the trip was photographing this yellow-crowned night heron. I slowly crawled down the muddy stream to get as close as possible to him. It was particularly dark and shady under the thick canopy, but very occasionally the breeze would blow a gap in the treetops, big enough for some light to get through and the heron would peer up indignantly as the sun gave his game away to the small fish it was after in the water below.

Just a short walk from Anse Mamin, up through the forest trails was a small reservoir. Here I found the first 2 endemics on my list. The Saint Lucia pewee (pronounced "pee-wee"), an endemic flycatcher and the Saint Lucia warbler.

Endemic Saint Lucia pewee - a lovely, confiding little flycatcher.

Endemic Saint Lucia warbler, making short work of the tiny insects in the tree-tops.

Around the reservoir were small endemic Saint Lucia anoles (a small tree lizard), grassquits everywhere, grey kingbirds hunting flying insects over the pool, grey tremblers and mangrove cuckoos calling from the surrounding trees and the occasional broad-winged hawk would pass overhead on the lookout for prey.

Mangrove cuckoo, a shy bird that likes the deep scrub.

Broad-winged hawk patrolling the skies.

Saint Lucia Anole - a small endemic tree lizard which varies in colour, depending on its environment.

A short walk from the reservoir I found a lovely little lagoon, which I could have spent the rest of the day at. There were small shrubs planted around the edges, which were the cause of a lot of competition between the hummingbirds. I learnt a few things about hummingbirds that day - firstly that for such small birds, they can be extremely territorial and aggressive and secondly that they don't just feed on nectar, but are occasional flycatchers too. I watched a green-throated carib a number of times hovering mid-air until a small fly flew close enough for it to quickly dart after, grab and swallow.

An Antillean crested hummingbird displaying his crest in defence of territory.

Green-throated carib hovering in wait for insects.

After spending a few days with the birds at the resort, I decided to head out to a few nearby places, to look for some of the island's other specialties. Not far from the resort, at nearby Bouton, I managed to track down endemics number 3 and 4 - the Saint Lucia oriole and the beautiful and rare Saint Lucia green parrot or "Jacquot".

Saint Lucia oriole.

Saint Lucia green parrot or "Jacquot" in flight.

I didn't get quite as good pictures of them as I'd have liked, but under the time constraints, it was the best I could do and at least if I didn't manage any better, I had something, and more importantly there was only 1 endemic left to go.

Whilst up at Bouton, looking for the parrots, I got chatting to Charles and Meno from the hotel and they told me how down in Soufrière bay, just outside of the resort, that in the early evening, women from the market would throw scraps of chicken skin into the harbour, which would attract the laughing gulls and magnificent frigatebirds. We decided to head down and try it for ourselves, so Charles picked up a few bags of old scraps and we headed down to the relaxed little town and hung out for a lazy few hours, drinking a few Pitons and waiting for the evening sun so that the light was nice and low and warm. When Charles threw out the first few scraps of skin and neck, a solitary laughing gull headed straight over.

Solitary laughing gull in flight with Soufriere in background.

The rest of them obviously knew the drill, as within minutes, all of the laughing gulls in the bay were heading towards us and we got to watch a real feeding frenzy - and to their amusement, so did the rest of the town.

Laughing gull feeding frenzy, hovering in wait for chicken scraps.

It wasn't long before the frigates were attracted, but they were much more direct and determined. They seemed to see the piece they wanted from quite a distance and made a bee-line straight towards it.

Magnificent frigatebird in flight, with sun shining through its gular skin.

They would take turns to fly in to the frenzy, completely dwarfing the gulls, and heading straight for the prize piece they had their eye on. They would snatch it from the water or more often from a gulls bill like taking candy from a baby. I don't think I saw one of them miss once and they made the squabbling gulls look like real amateurs. Definitely worthy of their reputation as pirate-birds.

Frigatebird snatching chicken scraps from laughing gull.

I stayed around the resort for the next few days, as I wanted to make sure to try and get some pictures of the local birds with the iconic Piton mountains in the background. I moved from the beach up to an apartment half way up the mountain with an amazing view out over the forest and Soufrière bay towards the Gros and Petit Piton.

View of the Pitons from Anse Chastenet, St Lucia.

My first night in the new room, I was treated to a beautiful full moon, which lit the scene with an eerie light, so I tried some experiments with long exposures and white balance until I started to get some nice landscapes. In the morning I put out some fruit punch on the balcony to attract the birds and eventually they found it and started to visit regularly. I mostly had the company of lesser Antillean bullfinches (pictured at the very top of this post), grackles, bananquits and the occasional tropical mockingbird.

Tropical mockingbird in front of the Piton mountains.

They eventually got so comfortable with coming to the balcony, that I could take the food away and get a few pictures with just the birds on the balcony.

A female carib grackle in front of the Pitons.

A pair of lesser antillean bullfinches with the Piton mountains in the background.

Next on my list was visiting the bat cave just around the cliff, between Anse Chastenet and Soufrière. I had heard some of the guests talking about it and I'd seen a few large bats flying around the beach at dusk, so I was curious to see just how many there were for myself. I arranged a boat for the next evening. I spent the morning relaxing and enjoying the beach as I thought I deserved at least a morning off to have a snorkel and explore the coral reefs at Anse Chastenet and Anse Mamin. I'm glad I did as I saw all kinds of fish and sea-life, which I won't even begin to try and list, and I later found out that they are some of the best reefs on the island. We headed out on the boat in the late afternoon so that we still had plenty of time to explore the cliff on the way round to the bat roost. Just out from the beach, blue boobys were perched on the cliff and a pair of American kestrels were busy courting and getting amorous.

Blue booby on the cliffs at Anse Chastenet.

Just a little further around was a colony of nesting cattle egrets and just above them a row of yellow-crowned night heron nests. The night herons were a little high up the cliff for pictures, but we got some lovely views of the egrets nest-building and interacting.

Cattle egret nest-building.

I couldn't believe it as we approached the bat cave - you could hear them from quite a distance and as we approached, it looked like the walls were alive, rippling with movement. It was hard to pick out the individual bats - so close in colour to the cave walls and incredibly tightly packed in, but as we got closer the occasional one would fly from one side to the other or perhaps get an elbow in the ribs and call out indignantly.

Antillean fruit-eating bats at their cave roost in Soufrière.

There are an estimated 5000 Antillean fruit-eating bats at the Soufrière roost - an awesome spectacle and largest of the two main roosts on the island. We hung around as it was approaching dusk and I was hoping to see them leave the roost in a great explosion. As the light faded, we noticed a few American kestrels a broad-winged hawk and my first peregrine falcon of the trip soaring in the sky above. They had obviously come for the bats too, but with more sinister motives. Unfortunately, it got too dark for us to stay as the skipper didn't have enough lights on the boat to be licenced to navigate after dark, so we left the bats to run the gauntlet of the waiting birds of prey and headed home.

Antillean fruit-eating bats at their cave roost in Soufrière Bay.

With my week nearly over, I cleaned up the few bits around the hotel that I had overlooked like the ubiquitous zenaida doves and tried in vain to photograph a few of the species I had had ok views of, but not got close enough to for pictures like the kestrels and the beautiful belted kingfisher, which I'd had my eye on for a few days, but who was frustratingly flighty.

Zenaida dove on Anse Mamin beach.

On the last day, I made a plan to head out and look for the last endemic on the list and a few other bits which would be an added bonus and which I at least I wanted to see before I left, even if I couldn't get a picture. We headed to Des Cartiers, which is a well known forest trail for parrots. We got some great views of them flying over the forest in pairs, but sadly too distant for anything more and had the same luck with the rufous-throated solitaire - a smart looking bird, which I was really pleased to see, but a little disappointed not to get anything more than a "record" shot of. Lastly, we headed to Millet - another forest trail with almost guaranteed black finch, my last endemic. We followed the trails and got close enough for some more "record" shots of the males, but we managed to get close to one of the females, feeding on a coconut husk that had been left out on the trail by the park wardens.

Endemic Saint Lucia Black Finch feeding on coconut husk.

With all 5 endemics in the bag and a long list of other species, my photographic mission was accomplished. It was pretty full-on to cram everything into 1 week, but definitely one of my most fun and memorable commissions. There were a few executive decisions I had to make, like giving up the rare white-breasted thrasher for the sake of numbers and productivity, which given more time I wouldn't have had to, and there were a few nice birds I missed, but all in all it was a great success. I'd love to go back as now that I know where to find it all, and how much photographic potential there is on the island, I could achieve much better results than I did in the short time I was there. I may talk to Anse Chastenet about running wildlife photography tours out there in the future as apart from the amazing birdlife, the landscapes, light and other wildlife are all worth visiting the island for. Actually, the burgers at the beach bar at Anse Mamin are worth the trip alone!

You can see some of my other pictures from the trip on this site: http://birdsofsaintlucia.com

And on the Anse Chastenet main site with some words by my good friend Ed Drewitt here: http://www.ansechastanet.com/activities/birdwatching.html

Thanks to Karolin and Nick for the invite and all the staff at Anse Chastenet for such a pleasant stay, particularly Charles and Meno.

© Sam Hobson 2014

www.samhobson.co.uk

ROAD TRIPPING IN ESTONIA

In March this year, I went out to Estonia to meet up with Luke Massey. He was leading a photographic tour for Estonian Nature, and I’d been invited to join them for the week.

I’d never been to Estonia, but I’d heard great things about it - Primeval boreal forests, peat bogs, some of Europe’s densest populations of wolves, bears and lynx, and a healthy number of white-tailed sea eagles.

We were hoping to photograph the eagles in the snow, but having booked the trip a few months previously, we hadn’t expected such a warm Spring and when I arrived, the snows were still yet to come - in fact the day before I arrived it was the hottest day on record for the time of year!! Harsh Winters usually means hungry eagles, so a road-kill roe deer left out in front of a photography hide would normally attract double figures. This wasn’t the case though, and the eagles had plenty of food - perhaps a little unfortunate for us, but great news for the eagles. In fact, Luke had seen first-hand evidence in the shape of a dead wild boar floating down a river, ostensibly drowned after falling into a lake that had thawed unseasonably early.

We already knew that this wasn’t going to be the trip we’d hoped for, but I was still looking forward to seeing a bit of Estonia’s taiga landscape and wildlife - perhaps the warm Spring might have brought the bears out of hibernation early...

Luke had already had an encounter with a confiding family of Eurasian elk, which sounded pretty exciting to me, having never seen them myself.

If you think this looks like a moose, it’s because it is - the Eurasian elk is what the north Americans would call a moose. They are both Alces alces, the largest living member of the deer family. In America, an elk is another large deer, a bit like a large red deer, which to add to the confusion, was called an elk by European explorers because they thought it looked like a European elk, which is in fact a moose. Got it?! ;) ©Luke Massey 2014

We headed up to the north-east - just a few miles from the Russian border, and that night I got to see my first Estonian wildlife, when a long-eared owl flew out in front of our car. We were shown a capercaillie site, which we thought we’d try in the morning as we heard capers calling from the tree-tops and found some prints and droppings. Back at the lodge that night I had my first encounter with elk - a hearty wild elk stew. Very tasty, but I never expected to taste elk before seeing them.

Overnight, the weather changed - the temperature rapidly dropped and it dumped over a foot of snow. We got up before dawn to get to the caper site, but it wasn’t looking good as wildlife isn’t particularly active when the snow first comes. On the way, I saw my first ural owls hunting in the dark and we had a couple of snowy hares running through the beams of our headlights.

At the caper site, it was deathly quiet, with not even a whisper of wind - I could even hear the large flakes of snow hitting the ground. We slowly walked the forest trails for a few hours, checking clearings and tree-line edges with our binoculars, but it seemed like the wildlife was hunkered down deep in the forest, waiting for the snow to pass. Apart from the odd raven cronking in the distance and the thin high-pitched calls of crested tits up in the trees, we were alone.

© Luke Massey 2014

We headed back to the lodge to meet local guide, Uudo, stopping on the way to take a few pictures of garden birds in the falling snow. Uudo took us on a bit of a tour of the area, where we saw black grouse, beaver sign and pine marten tracks in the snow and Uudo took us to a place where he had recently seen brown bear and cub tracks, which must have been just out of Winter hibernation.

© Luke Massey 2014

As the light started fading, Uudo took us to a site where he had radio collared a Siberian flying squirrel. It was a bit of a Benny Hill moment watching Uudo running around, trying to find the squirrel, but it wasn’t long before he got a decent signal and we found them. Our spirits were instantly lifted, as we had some amazing sightings of flying squirrels leaping from tree to tree, chasing each other around the trunks and poking their little heads out of their nest holes. It was the perfect time to see them as it was right in the middle of their courtship season and there was loads of activity. We looked for squirrel droppings at the base of the nesting trees, which Uudo told us were more valuable than gold, as their presence can prevent the area from being forested - the main reason the squirrels are suffering is islandisation of habitats due to forestry. Uudo’s study of the Siberian flying squirrels is incredibly important to their survival in the area, and that night he told us a heart-warming story about how he raised a family of squirrels and taught them to fly, after one of his squirrels called Karl was eaten by a pine marten and they were orphaned. He took them into his home and when he was confident that they could fly well enough to survive, he released them into the wild, and continued to monitor them. After a few months, they were all eventually picked off by pine martens - pine marten and Ural owl are their main predators, but goshawks and eagle owls will also take them.

After a few days in the north-east, we headed south towards the eagle hide - we weren’t expecting miracles, but there had been reports of at least 1 eagle in the area and perhaps the snow would bring us luck. On the road down, we stopped to photograph an obliging road-side snow bunting in the falling snow. We pulled over and left the hazards on, which I chose to include for a bit of context.

The next morning, we got into the hide before first light and to our surprise, we were soon joined by a white-tailed eagle which perched in a nearby tree to check out the road-kill roe deer carcass that had been left out to encourage them down. We decided not to move around or take any pictures as we didn’t want to spook it before it was light enough to get a decent exposure, but frustratingly it decided not to hang around and that was the only eagle we saw that day.

As the day progressed, the temperature rose and the snow melted and more and more ravens appeared until we had at least 40 in front of us. It was really interesting to watch them feeding and bickering and I learnt a lot about their behaviour and pecking order, just by watching them all day.

At first, they had trouble getting in to the deer carcass as not only does it have a thick hide, but was partially frozen. Over the course of the day, as it got warmer, there was various amounts of activity, but there seemed to be just a brief period of around 15 minutes when they got to the “good stuff” and there was a sudden feeding frenzy. My most memorable moment was when a dominant raven plucked out the roe deer’s heart and seemed to parade up an down with it like a prize, almost challenging the others to take it from him, before taking it elsewhere to feed on it.

Although it was interesting to watch the ravens, we decided not to risk the eagle hide again, as it is a big investment to stay in from before dawn until nightfall, and it turned out to be the right decision, as there were no further reports of eagles there for the rest of the week.

Instead, we decided to spend the rest of the time visiting different areas of Estonia, driving the forest tracks and looking for wildlife. The next morning started promisingly as just outside our hotel, there was a pair of whooper swans roosting on a frozen lake. Just as the sun was rising, a dog-walker out for an early morning stroll along the edge of the lake passed by and the swans raised their heads from under their wings to watch them go by.

Later that day we came across a group of female capercaillie that had come out of the forest to feed on the grit on the forest road. Grit is important to aid digestion as with no teeth, birds need something solid and abrasive in their gizzard to help break their food down. Although very shy, they weren’t in a hurry, so we slowly got closer and closer, using the car as a hide and lying on the ground to get a nice low angle.

Later that day we met up with Marika Mann from Estonian Nature and she showed us a black grouse lekking site, with over 40 lekking black grouse. It was an amazing spectacle, but too distant for pictures, so we set up some hides near the biggest concentration of grouse droppings in a nearby field which was also an occasional lek site, in the hope that they might move in the next few days. Later that evening I saw my first elk at the edge of a clearing. It was too dark and distant for pictures, but it was great to watch them and as they disappeared into the forest, we drove around the corner and watched them as they crossed a clearing that had been cut for power lines.

The next day we met Tarvo, another guide that knew the area well and he took us out to show us his local patch. It was quite a quiet morning to begin with, but after a few hours and some breakfast, we saw another family of elk, a great grey shrike, long-tailed ducks, a black woodpecker, a field of cranes and a flock of 300+ snow bunting that had stopped on migration to feed in a field.

© Luke Massey 2014

That evening, Tarvo took us to a site where he had put up a nest box for Ural owls earlier in the Winter, which was already occupied. We didn’t want to get too close at such a sensitive early stage in nesting, so we stayed well back and observed with binoculars and took a few distant pictures.

Before long, the week was up and it was time to head home to the UK. The weather was a blessing and a curse, as all though we saw some sights that we would have missed without it, like a big fall of woodcock brought down by the snow during their night migration, we missed a lot of opportunities that we might have had if it was a more “normal” Winter and the wildlife had been behaving more predictably. I didn’t come home with award winning frame-fillers of white-tailed eagles, but we did see one flying low over the trees on the way back to Tallinn airport, which was a nice way to round off the trip. Estonia was great for wildlife watching and I saw loads of species that were firsts for me. Photographically, we could have done with a bit of better luck with the weather and some better planning of alternative options for when the wildlife or weather wasn’t behaving as we’d hoped. There is definitely some amazing potential there though and from the amount of bear, boar, lynx and wolf tracks we saw in the snow when we were there, I think it is somewhere I will be returning in the future :)

Thanks to Estonian Nature for inviting me and showing me around. You can check out their wildlife holidays and photography tours here.

All pictures © Sam Hobson 2014 unless otherwise stated.

www.samhobson.co.uk