The rippling call of the curlew burbled across the mudflats, carrying far in the air like a piece of nature’s sweet music; a gift from the gods and the very echo of life.
They came like a pack of sea wolves; torpedoed-shaped and swimming in such close formation that they moved as one.
It was the very epitome of unbridled beauty; a tree to make one marvel at nature’s infinite variety of autumnal colour.
There is no such thing as an ugly duck but if there were to be a beauty contest among the different species found in Scotland then I reckon the long-tailed duck would be right up there towards the top.
The redness glowed like a smouldering ember from deep within the upturned roots of this fallen pine tree.
Up and down go the crazy ravens in looping undulations, some of the birds suddenly splitting off into pairs to engage in their own sweeping aerobatics before joining the main group again.
September air, so clear and fair; a time of swansongs for some creatures whilst others – such as several types of geese – will be hitting our shores over the next few weeks as they leave their northern breeding grounds to seek respite from the rapidly approaching arctic winter.
Something rather uplifting happened the other week that has opened my eyes to a hitherto unknown part of the natural world to me.
Scottish bluebells, or harebells are they are also known, are putting on a fine show just now with their nodding pastel blue flowers adorning our hill pastures and glens.
The warm rain pit-pattered through the trees that clung tenaciously to the sides of this rocky gorge near Edzell. It was a gentle, soothing noise that provided a wonderful complement to the tumbling waters of the River North Esk below.