I have to be honest. It was turning into ‘Grumpy Old Men’ in the car. We were wet and morale was slipping down with only a horde of 15 Greenland White fronts and a wayward Dabchick to note. Sphagnum smeared boots and soaking wet trousers meant even Co-op Quiche Lorraine couldn’t lift the spirits (I knew I should have taken the hip flask).
With four in the car and a combined age of 260 meant we were not short on experience, but luck was certainly passing us by.
Messrs Marr, Newell and Shrub were mighty relieved when the Snowy Owl whistle (formerly Canadian Black Bear alarm) burst into action and our great white quest was nailed. Great views were eventually obtained and some good images captured, all without pushing the bird. The last time Mike Shrub saw a Snowy was in 1968 – and I wasn’t even born!
Smiles all round and a bouyant atmosphere filled the car as we headed for home. Even the rain had stopped. Cherry on top was a fine juvenile Golden Eagle that flew over the car as we meandered our way out of Uig.
Some days turn around for the good.