Harris, Lewis and Eagles

I have travelled far and wide doing the work I do but it is this one trip that I will never forget. It was my first trip out of the city of Edinburgh, a long time ago now. I was studying photography at college, the beginning of my dream of becoming a wildlife photographer and filmmaker. I had no idea if I would last the course but I did because of this one cold winter journey with two fellow students.

In January we took a journey west to the Isle of Harris and Lewis in search of birds of prey. We were hoping to find Sea Eagles or Golden Eagles. There was no guarantee of seeing these magnificent birds, of course, but it didn't matter as there were still the mountains, glens, lochs and other wildlife to record and photograph.

Just north of Strathyre we pulled off the road for a break surrounded by hills and moors. Just as we were going to move on we spotted six Red Kites circling around, gliding on whatever currents of air they could find with just an occasional flap of their wings. We stood as still as we could with our cameras pointed skyward. They were only about forty feet above us when one of the Kites lost a couple of feathers. I watched them fall, picked them up and put them in my wallet – a favourite souvenir I still keep to this day.

We hurried on to make it to the ferry at Ullapool that would take us to Stornoway. How it had taken me so long to find the beauty of the country I lived in I don't know. If anything could blow your mind it was these landscapes which seemed to change colours as the low sun shone through the passing clouds. It was stunning to me seeing all this for the first time.

The crossing took about two and a half hours and I hated it every minute. The water looked so dark and deep, I was sick the whole way. I was glad to arrive and get my feet on dry land.
We drove the narrow road south to Maraig. The sky was overcast and foreboding, the moors strewn with boulders and the hills were dark like giant shadows, with a cold wind howling through every valley and not a soul on the road. Maraig was on northern edge of a small peninsular at the southern end of Loch Schiphoirt that stretched about eight miles inland. It was here we hoped to find our eagles.

We stayed in an empty B&B run by a pleasant, friendly woman who told us she knew where to find our eagles – about four miles north of here – and that she would show us the place. We accepted her offer. If we couldn’t find them the next best place was Loch Scourst over the other side of An Cliseam. This was the highest point on the Isle where it was known there were four or five pairs of eagles nesting in the Glen of Marvaig.

The next day we set off with our packs, cameras and our guide leading us along the shore. The perfect day, she said, a clear sky, a good breeze, no other humans, plenty of fish and no predators.

We stopped when told to, set up our cameras and waited. We waited a long time. It was so cold and we were about to give up when our guide pointed across to the hills on the eastern side of the Loch.

‘Sea Eagles,’ she said looking through an old pair of binoculars, ‘bigger wingspan than Golden Eagles.’

I had my camera to my eye, they were circling over the loch and I could hear the clicking of the other cameras as I followed two of the eagles hoping at least one would come low over the water. My wish was granted. I took picture after picture and watched one of the eagles focus on its prey below, swoop down and glide over the water, pull up its body, throw its talons forward, make a grab and fly off with a large fish. I looked aside briefly and saw another. It was gliding fast about two feet above the water only this time it was coming straight towards us. I put my eye back to the camera keeping my finger on the shutter and just before it pulled up and made a grab for its prey I saw the flight feathers at its wingtips rippling in the flow of air passing over its body. It must have been only about thirty feet away when it grabbed the fish, rose up steeply over our heads and away towards the hills behind us. The other eagles stayed high, gliding away to the west. It would not take them long to get there and as we watched them disappear I heard our guide say, ‘Patience is what you need to see the best in the animal world.’ I took that thought into my future and hoped all the photographs we had taken would turn out ok.

We may not not have seen the Golden Eagles we wanted but we had seen their magnificent equals and for me, who never travelled beyond the city boundary, I had recorded a little Scottish magic, in its wild and desolate winter glory. This journey is what made me all the more determined to follow my dream into wildlife conservation, travel and to record life in the natural world.