15th January – sunrise in the Perthshire hills

Mountains of Tayside

This morning we were lucky enough to be watching black grouse, red grouse and grey partridges, all in beautiful sunshine up in the Perthshire glens.

It was an early start for us, but it was really worth it.  We re-visited our favourite haunts around Crieff and Kenmore, lovely quiet glens where the morning sun was just touching the snow on the mountain tops with a pinkish glow, and mist was rising from the lochs.

One of our first finds was the most surprising:  in one of the roadside fields was a large group of grey partridges, the adults making their familiar ‘priv-et’ calls as they shepherded several of last year’s youngsters away from danger.  Greys are a much rarer sight than they were when I was a child… back then, almost every ploughed field held a covey of them, and we heard their calls every day.  It was lovely to see them again, and to get such good views.

A number of goldeneye were swimming and displaying on the loch, and a flock of greylag geese (or possibly pink-feet – it was hard to tell at that distance) had congregated on the western shore.  Much of the loch was covered with a thin layer of ice.

As we got higher into the heather moorland, red grouse were all around us, many occupying the higher tussocks so as to catch the first rays and thaw the frost on their backs.  All we could hear in the stillness was a constant ‘go-back, go-back, go-back’, and occasionally ‘down, down’.  Red grouse have almost human-like voices;  deep in the heather, with only their heads and necks protruding, two males were nattering like old gossips as they munched away on their breakfast.

The black grouse that we saw were, in fact, greyhens, and as usual they were balancing precariously in the topmost twigs of birch trees.  Greyhens are large, round and pudding-like, and they perch in the riskiest places without a care in the world.  I’m always surprised that the ground beneath isn’t littered with the ones that have eaten too much, become too fat and plopped off.

As we neared the head of the glen and made our way up the mountain pass, we were met by the sight of distant, snow-clad mountains.  These are the ones to the west of Loch Tay, the highest of which is Ben Lawers;   it’s a large and sparsely-populated mountain wilderness, and beyond lies Rannoch Moor.

It was cold up there, despite the lack of wind.  Icicles were sparkling in the burns, and patches of quite thick ice had formed on the road.  This made for an interesting experience around the steep hairpin bends.

By the time we turned for home, the sun was hidden behind high cloud, and the brilliant lighting conditions had gone.  We were sorry to see how many majestic old trees had been felled by the recent gales… uprooted, in many cases, taking a large chunk of the roadside verge with them.  It’s a sad loss, because they aren’t going to be replaced overnight.

I thought I’d be creative and make a short video of the grouse calling, using my compact camera.  Unfortunately, I mistook the symbols for ‘stop’ and ‘start’, and ended up filming my feet as I walked back to the car.  I’ll try harder next time…

Images copyright © Colin & Jo Woolf

Misty hills near Crieff

Sunrise

Mist on the loch

Sunlight on the crannog

Reflections on the loch

Grey partridges

Greyhen in birch trees… without a safety net

Derelict cottage

Heather moorland

Two males gossiping

Red grouse (female)

Red grouse (male) – see the frost on his back

Distant mountains

Looking towards Tayside

Snow in the lee of the mountain

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