Yes, I know I wrote about ticks last time. And yes, I know that makes it two articles on the trot about nasty wee beasties, but inspiration for subjects comes from whatever has crossed my path in the previous month…..and I’m afraid to say very little has crossed my path in July other than clegs! Indeed, as I’m writing this, I can feel the crazy itching of a cleg bite on my thigh and am desperately trying to ignore it, which is difficult when you’re writing about the very thing that caused said itching. What is a cleg? I can’t…

Back in the depths of winter I was clearing away an old campfire site in a far-flung corner of woodland, and there was a big piece of soggy deadwood, a log, that had been put on top of the fire. Clearly it was never going to burn, but that hadn’t deterred whoever’s fire it was. The centre of the log was singed but the ends were not. As I crouched down, I noticed a striking pattern on one unsinged end. A jumble of lines and indentations in the wood, looking like a hectic road map, and so sharply-defined you’d be…

At first it was subtle, barely enough to suggest anything was amiss – a long, flat-topped plateau in the distance, somewhere over towards Drumochter, and I was struggling to identify it. We do of course have plenty of flat-topped hills in Scotland, especially around Drumochter, but this one was properly flat, like a table. Hmm. I assumed my natural compass was just a bit off, and when I reached the summit I’d take another look and try to work it out. But when I looked back behind me just five minutes later, that flat-topped hill was now whale-backed, and had…

I always look forwards to the first subzero morning. Coming so early in the autumn season, when summer still holds the days, it typically occurs after a clear night, which means the subsequent morning is a real beauty. Low sun, mist in the glen, everything tinged with white. A bleary-eyed glance out of the window as I put the kettle on for a cup of tea is never enough, though. I want to both feel and smell the cold, so I stumble outside to be embraced by the frost. Such was the scene on 13th September this year as I…

Splat! Something hit the windscreen. Something large. One of those ones you REALLY notice. And another. The wipers tried their best but a misty smear nonetheless formed in their wake across the whole of the windscreen. It was only then that I noticed just how many smaller, soundless collisions there had been during my drive down the A90. On arriving in Fife, I exclaimed aloud when I saw that the front of my white car wasn’t white anymore. Anyone who drives will be accustomed to this happening, but I genuinely couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen the car in…

I’ve written a fair few spring-related articles over the years, each one pondering the various signs that herald the end of winter. And while I’ve always reasoned that spring is a culmination of numerous natural cues across a period of weeks, if I was forced to single-out one thing that represents spring more than any other, then it would be the return of the curlew. Appearance wise, the curlew is surely a contender for our most recognisable bird silhouette. Large, with long legs and a long neck, a small head, and a long and thin beak that curves downwards. That…

There’s not much life up high this time of year. Or at least, that’s the impression you get as you push through shifting sprindrift and up wind-scoured ridges. You can easily buy into the notion that there’s only you up there. As far as you’re concerned, you’re the only creature mad enough to try. But it’s often at times like those, when the wind is raging and you feel the need to keep moving to stay warm, that a small, plump white bird crosses your path. It’s never the case that I catch advance sight of its silhouette on a…