2nd July.  First ever visitor. At lunchtime we have had the pleasure to observe,  for the first time ever in the garden of Shenval Bed and Breakfast, a reed bunting having a sip at our bird bath. A bird more commonly seen by moorland lochs,  visibly straying down on the lower ground of Glenurquhart.

12th June. Successful rescue. Relieved to see that over the last three days, the greenfinch hen has been back and forth sometimes resting in the nest. She seems to have settled down to feeding the relocated brood. Against all our expectations. For sure this is a wired up family!

9th June. Successful rescue? Mowing the grass in your garden can lead to unexpected finds like the one we made today: a nest blown down from a tree by the very strong winds buffeting our garden thuyas. After investigation, we notice that this nest has not been empty for very long; a tiny chick is fighting for his life in the tall grass nearby. A thorough investigation reveals a second chick and then a third one, all barely 3 cms long with closed eyes, bulging belly and hardly any down on their backs. If we do not swing promptly into action, the hopeless clutch will surely die. But what do you do? Try and feed them?
Find where the nest has fallen from? Instinctively we carefully spoon each chick from the long grass. Yes: spoon them! And ease them gently back into their nest. Somehow we are fortunate to spot a greenfinch frantically busying itself in the thuyas above. Could this be one of the parents?
This desperate situation calls for a desperate measure. Armed with a stepped ladder, and after having sewn some garden wire ties through the bottom and sides of the nest, I (Pierre) clamber up through the dense branches and find what seems to be a suitable spot. Resting the nest and its very fragile contents in a fork,  I securely fasten the dangling wires to neighbouring twigs and branches, hoping that the makeshift contraption will prove resilient enough in the strong wind. Coming down the ladder,  a last search in the long grass reveals yet another chick,  even tinier that the first three. More improvisation is called for: gingerly holding the spoon and its delicate content,  I go up the ladder again and successfully reunite the chick with his siblings. Time to tidy up and to wonder whether the unfortunate parents will ever reclaim a nest that has obviously changed location. Fingers crossed...
Well, two hours later, we spot a greenfinch hen on the nest. Will she care to stay after all this upheaval?

24th April. Gold rush and empty pockets. Dropped in Timespan in Helmsdale, a museum of Highland life in Sutherland which traces the 19th and 20th century harsh way of life of the local population. Eyewitness accounts of the period illustrate the heartless policies of the originators of the infamous Highland Clearances. Even the short-lived 1869 gold rush of the Strath of Kildonan bore the mark of the greed of the local aristocracy. Timespan is well worth a visit.
Driving on to the north coast of Sutherland through Kinbrace and Strathnaver confirmed the devastating effect the Highland Clearances have had -and still have- on the landscape and economy: mile after mile of empty treeless countryside next to thousands of acres of blanket industrial and sterile afforestation, ruins everywhere, everpresent populations of red deer and virtually no human presence. How today's descendants of those evicted from the inland straths can make a living on the hostile windswept coastline remains a mystery. Here human protection does not match that offered to wildlife that is also clinging to a degraded environment.
Ironically, wildlife conservation seems to be one of the very few activities that keeps a tenuous human population going in what has become a wet desert: countryside rangers on the coast and bird reserve wardens inland like those of the RSPB in Forsinard, a place worth a stop for nature lovers. Spotted our first swallows in Tongue and were lucky enough to spy on the activities of a water rail -a secretive bird often heard but rarely seen- by the road side. A walk on the shoreline in pleasantly warm sunshine gave us sightings of two great northern divers, a pair of eiders and two black guillemots while larks warbled high in the spring skies.

March 31st. Strange encounter in the Highands of Scotland. A somewhat much better weather forecast than any we have had of late. Driving down Glenurquhart a red squirrel runs across the road just in front of us. Head for the Coulin pass, a new place for us. Lots of snow on all surrounding shapely hills, down to 500 metres. Bright sunshine that will leave us with a hint of sunburn by the end of the day. By Loch Coulin the view over to the whole range of snow smothered Beinn Eighe is spectacular. The first lark of Spring can be heard and seen over the low ground where two highland ponies peacefully graze. Heading back over to Coire Lair, we fall under the spell of the magnificent remnants of Caledonain pine forest now wisely protected by very high deer fence exclosures. These ancient woods hem the tumultuous flowing, crytal clear, waters of the Eas Dorcha, a stream with a beauty to match that of torrents in the Alps. A sickle-shaped bird of prey -could this be a peregrine falcon?- calls way up in the skies.
Our last sight of deer for today proves to be very puzzling: 10 yards from us, a hind grazes, unperturbed by our presence. We stand still for what seems like an eternity and are so close we can detail her every eyelash, every hair, every moving muscle, every ear movement... Every now and then this hinds looks up at us and goes on grazing as if we were merely part of the scenery, showing no sign of fear, no nervousness. As we eventually decide to move away from her, she starts to follow us and will do so for over half a mile, leaving us to ponder whether, for once, it is us, human beings, who are being stalked. Very strange encounter indeed.

March 16th. Where else could you see so much wildlife in a single afternoon?  For our first day out in weeks, we have been more than rewarded with our foray to Loch Fleet and the heights of Golspie. The sand banks of Loch Fleet displayed no less than 71 grey seals of various sizes and shades sunning themselves between wintry showers. Several hundred greylag geese,  a couple dozen whooper swans and numerous sea birds (oystercatchers, redshanks, wigeons, cormorants, etc.) completed this charming watery scene. Past the "Mannie on the Hill" towering above Golspie,  we ventured for a couple of hours in open moorland and were rewarded again with the sighting of well over 80 red deer hind, stags and calves sheltering from the wind by a small loch. The exhilaration, though, came with the discovery of the aptly named Big Burn gorge: a wild meandering watercourse, complete with bobbing dippers and hemmed in by steep cliff faces with finely crafted wooden bridges hopping from bank to bank,  under a canopy of semi natural ancient woodland with a rich undergrowth of ferns and mosses.  A serene atmosphere enveloping Golspie under a salmon red sky greeted our return by the sandy shoreline.

March 5th, a blessing in disguise. Our 13 year old dishwasher has just given up the ghost. A good opportuny for us, in line with our drive to reduce our impact on the environment, to acquire a new  energy and water saving replacement. Our brand new AAA rated dishwasher  ranks among the best currently available and only uses 11 litres of water and 0.8Kw of electricity on its Eco cycle, against our previous wasteful 16 litres/1.5Kw. The washing results are even more satisfactory, so we are quite chuffed about this newcomer to our house!

February 25th.  Marmalade day. Seizing on the rare opportunity of finding organic ruby red oranges, we have turned 6 kilos of these into our own brand of home-made lemon and orange marmalade. Deliciously and subtly sweet, it should meet, in the coming months, with our guests expectations at breakfast time. We'll try and not have the whole lot just for ourselves!...