Gardening is a bit of a challenge on Tiree; something I’ve learned the hard way. Each spring, I wring my hands impatiently – waiting for the bulbs lurking my boarders to flower. I live in a traditional thatched cottage, with
One Petal Left
Beacon
It’s a bright day. I make sure that the cap of my flask is tightly threaded, and snug it in against the other contents of my rucksack. Outside the kitchen window, two male Reed Buntings are rummaging about in the
Remembering the Whale
I reach out and give it another push. It spins idly, in slow rotations on the desk. Dentine against toughened plastic makes an empty, clinical sound. The enamel coated tip is whiter. Sharper. The business end (a thickly curved point)
Sand in My Pockets
In the middle of some humdrum daily activity, I’ll shove my hands into my coat pockets and be met with an unmistakably gritty sensation. I can’t complain; it’s my own fault. The bits of sand that infiltrate all pocket-based items
The Song It Sings
Paradoxically, Ben Hynish was the last of our three hills to pique my interest. The presence of the Golf Ball radar station somehow marked it as a place of activity. A place with a road. A place of people. Looking
In Any Event
One aspect of my job that I find particularly rewarding is meeting people. Offering opportunities to get outdoors and enjoy being active in nature is core to our remit as a Ranger Service. I’m delighted to tell you that, since
Angry Birds
It’s fair to say that most birds, at most times of year, lead quiet and unassuming lives as far as their interactions with people are concerned. Birds don’t seek us out. They don’t come looking for trouble. – Unless they
Blow-Ins
Our migrant birds are returning, and with them, came the first guests of the season. After months of relative quiet, it felt strange to watch Clansman disgorge a line of glinting vehicles and smiling faces. Surf boards and bicycles wobbled
A Mermaid’s Purse
The expression “Mermaid’s Purse” is slightly euphemistic. It conjures up images of Ariel and Sebastian, belting out another steel drum standard in Trident’s underwater kingdom. Personally, I like to imagine the mermaids leaving their purses in a pile on the
The Wheel Turns
I opened the door, stepped out into the morning sunshine, and heard it. A satisfying “snick” – the sound of a cog tooth settling into a new groove. Everything was in a new groove. Overnight, the wheel had turned and