Islay Images for Loch Gruinart

The RSPB commissioned these six images to be used in their visitors’ centre on Islay. They depict the wildlife of the flooded meadows at the head of Loch Gruinart, and will be displayed along the sill of the huge picture-window that looks out across the fields. It’s possible to get very close views of all the wildlife on the reserve, and I spent a wonderful few days making my field-sketches here.

The pictures are all hand made screen prints from an edition limited to three prints of each image. All money from the sale of the first print will go to fund further RSPB projects on Islay.

The pictures chart the life of these meadows from January through to December.

The story starts on the left of the display, with the flooded winter fields.

Winter rain is held back by sluice gates, so the flooded fields can be used by ducks such as wigeon and pintail. Hares also feed on the rich grassland, which in Spring are covered in daisies, buttercups and marsh marigolds.

As the weather warms, these damp fields become full of insects. Nesting waders, like lapwing, find plenty of food for their chicks. Roe deer graze here, and may be chased by territorial birds.

Cattle manure is spread on the middle of the field to make a Corncrake Corridor. Corncrakes rely on this shelter when they return from Africa in April. Breeding snipe use the fence posts to survey their territory.

In late summer, once the corncrakes have fledged, the fields are cut for silage. Starlings feed in the stubbles. Cattle graze any rough vegetation, in preparation for our winter visitors.

In October many thousands of barnacle geese arrive from their breeding grounds in Greenland. Our mild, damp climate means that the grass grows throughout the winter. The geese can graze here, safe on the reserve.

Several thousand white fronted geese spend the winter feeding on the reserve. Along with the barnacle geese, they roost at night on Loch Gruinart, safe from predators. Whooper swans also make the reserve their winter home.

Peatland Pictures for RSPB

I spent most of last winter in my studio, creating twelve screen prints of Hebridean wildlife. These were commissioned by the RSPB, to be used in a display for their visitors’ centre on Islay. Six of the pictures depict the wildlife of the island’s peatlands. 

This part of the project was paid for by the whisky producer Lagavullin. To celebrate their 200th anniversary they released 522 bottles of a special 1991 single cask edition whisky to create a legacy fund for Islay community projects. Thanks to this fund, the RSPB is restoring 300 hectares of peatland on their nature reserves and the artwork will be used to help visitors learn more about this exciting landscape.

The artwork is designed to frame the big picture window in the visitors' centre on RSPB's Loch Gruinart reserve. These six pieces are available for sale as individual pictures (minus the text of course). Click on the image to see it in full.

Project Puffin

When I was invited to spend a week working with RSPB's Project Puffin team last year, I didn't realise that I would have to travel all the way to the most northerly point of the British Isles. And that was only the beginning. The team had assembled in Shetland to monitor an important breeding population of puffins. Every day started with a brisk uphill march of an hour to the colony, carrying heavy scientific equipment, rain coats, warm clothes, climbing gear, and in my case, painting paraphernalia. We had to run the gauntlet of a huge breeding colony of great skuas. In Shetland they're known as Bonxies, for their habit of seeing off any intruders from their territory with a vigorous peck to the head. Luckily the skuas had become used to people on the path, and so as long as we kept to the track we could enjoy seeing the birds at close quarters with their fluffy orange chicks.

Another distraction was all the other rare and exciting birdlife along the walkway. I have never seen dunlin displaying before, and it was wonderful hearing the snipe performing their drumming display overhead.
At first, the puffins were not easy to see. We discovered that the number of breeding birds here had declined by more than 90%. Without safety in numbers, puffins would fly in at top speed to avoid the piratical attentions of the Bonxies, and dive into their burrows carrying only a few tiny fish. The Project Puffin team attached tiny GPS trackers to the birds in order to find out where they were fishing, and you can read more about this work in an article that I've written for the Summer 2018 edition of the RSPB’s magazine “Nature’s Home.” 

The RSPB lobbies government on matters such as fishing policy and global warming, and scientific data is vital to informing decision-making. Marine ecology is a complicated matter, and although the puffins were really struggling, the gannet colony nearby was booming. Gannets feed on bigger prey like mackerel, and the birds were nesting all the way to the top of the cliffs. This allowed for great sketching opportunities.

By 11pm the midsummer sunset was skimming the horizon. As the Project Puffin team finished work there seemed to be puffins standing all around us on the cliff top. These were younger birds, visiting the colony to meet potential mates and size up nesting burrows for future years. Puffins can live for up to 40 years, and so there’s a chance that data from this project can be used to improve their chances of finding enough fish to raise chicks successfully in the future. 

Tweet of the Week

I've recorded a podcast for Radio 4's Tweet of the Day. The individual stories will be broadcast during the week beginning 22nd January, and then all five will be available as a podcast called Tweet of the week. It's easy to find on the BBC's radio iplayer, and I think it's available for the next year. Nearly all the stories are from my book, Wild Island, which is still available in book shops.

Iron Gall Ink

Whilst working as Artist in Residence in the oak woods at Taynish, I made some drawings using Oak Gall Ink, also called Iron Gall Ink.

The oak trees grow down to the shore, where Common Seals snooze.

This was the standard ink used in Europe from the 5th century onwards. Galls are created when a tiny parasitic wasp lays its egg in the leaf, acorn or root of the oak. The grub causes the oak to make an abnormal growth which encloses the developing animal, providing it with protection. There are about 1300 species of parasitic wasp worldwide, all inducing different types of gall. I find it amazing when walking through Taynish, that these complex relationships are going on all around me. But it gets even more extraordinary. Some other wasps specialise in parasitising these wasps, and are called parasitoids. These may in turn be preyed upon by other specialist wasps, called hyperparasitoids. Other insects specialise in living harmlessly within particular galls, and these are called inquilines.

In Taynish the most common galls are Spangle Galls, which look like yellow sequins covering the underside of many of the leaves. For making ink, the most useful are Oak Marble Galls, which look like smooth woody marbles. The species of wasp causing this gall is called Andricus kollari. It has two life cycles every year, one in our native oak and the second in the Turkey Oak, and so marble galls are only found when these two trees grow near each other. When growing the gall, the oak tree incorporates high levels of tannic acid. By combining these tannins with iron, a durable ink can be made. Originally all ink came from Europe, with galls from Aleppo considered the best as they contain most tannin, but in 1735 the Turkey Oak was introduced into Britain. I searched Taynish in vain for marble galls, but a friend found me some on the opposite side of Loch Sween. Turkey Oaks must be growing there.

Marble oak galls.

Each gall is about 2cms across and has a tiny hole, showing that the wasp has hatched. I tried the traditional method of grinding the galls with pestle and mortar, but they were so hard that I ended up having to smash them with a hammer. I soaked the resulting powder in water for 24hrs and then strained it.

Iron can be added from rusty nails, but I found it easier to soak the sugar coating off some of my ferrous sulphate iron tablets and dissolve those. Although not essential, I added a little gum arabic, a sap from the gum acacia tree, which gives better flow to the ink. When I first applied the ink it was a pale brown, but in front of my eyes it oxidised into a beautiful rich black on the page. Over time the acidity of the ink can cause the paper to corrode. Documents produced a thousand years ago show this deterioration, so I don't know how the ink will behave over time. I quite like the idea that the drawing will have an active life of its own.

Taynish - the celtic rainforest.

I've just finished a year as Artist in Residence for Scottish Natural Heritage at their Taynish reserve in Argyll. I wanted to post a few pictures from the final exhibition, to show the variety of wildlife in this west coast wilderness.

In Spring, both frogs and toads are common in the lochans, on the paths, and even in puddles.  I move them carefully out of danger, and take the opportunity for a close-up view. I have had just as much pleasure discovering the tiny inhabitants of the reserve, as from seeing the larger mammals like deer or red squirrels.

Little grebes, also known as Dabchicks, move from the sea-lochans onto fresh water to breed. In summer I heard their high wickering call, but they never let me approach very close. They were diving for small fish to feed their chicks, whilst damselflies skimmed above the waterlilies.

In autumn, the north wind brings Scandinavian raiders to plunder the berries of the rowan trees. It only takes a few days for these fieldfares to strip the trees of their fruit, before they move on south.

Bands of long-tailed tits move through the winter tree-tops, calling to each other to maintain contact. These tiny birds have little in the way of fat reserves, and so must search for a constant supply of insect food. During the cold nights they all huddle together in a ball to keep warm.

An exhibition of all the pictures from my year at the reserve will be at the Archway gallery in Lochgilphead in May, and will then travel to the SNH headquarters at Battleby later in the year.

More Wild Island pictures.

Here are some more images from the book, "Wild Island. A Year in the Hebrides." I will be at the British Bird Fair at this year, on the Society of Wildlife Artists' stand. This will be from 19th-21st August at Rutland Water. I will have copies of the book, and some of the artwork too. If you want to find out more about the Hebrides or the RSPB's work on Oronsay, come along for a chat.

Nesting eider duck in bracken.

Corncrake calling (screen print).

Otter

Lapwing on its nest.

Wild Island

I've just returned from the Isle of Colonsay, where I gave a talk about Wild Island. The book seems to be going down well, with good sales. It was great to try the talk out on a sympathetic audience, as on Saturday 21st May at 11.30am I'll be talking at Scotland's Big Nature Festival near Edinburgh.  

A busy year

Lapwing Display

2015 was a busy year for me, and 2016 looks to be just as exciting. Last October at the Society of Wildlife Artists' Exhibition at the Mall Galleries in London I was presented with the Birdwatch Wildlife Artist of the Year award, which comes with a lovely new pair of Swarovski binoculars. I was also elected as a full member of the Society.

I have finished all the artwork and text for my book "Wild Island," which is about the work of the RSPB on the Hebridean island of Oronsay. If you like the words and images in this blog, you may be interested in buying a copy when it becomes available in March 2016.

All the illustrations from the book, including the lapwing picture above, are now being framed up for an exhibition at the Scottish Ornithologists' Club gallery at Aberlady, near Edinburgh. This will open on 20th February 2016 and run until 6th April.

I will be giving a talk and selling the Wild Island book at Scotland's Big Nature Festival in May, and also giving workshops at the Colonsay Spring Festival in April.

Meanwhile, I will be kept busy by my new job for Scottish Natural Heritage as Artist in Residence at their Taynish National Nature Reserve. I'm looking forward to it all.

Gannets fishing

Gannets fishing, screenprint, ed. of 4

The Easter holidays are here, and in the next few weeks everyone will be putting their boats back in the water after the winter. Here on the west coast of Scotland, we are sheltered from the full force of the Atlantic by the scattered islands of the Hebrides. Even a small rowing boat can go out into the Sound of Jura in search of mackerel. As we haul on our lines, we enjoy watching the gannets, who are also fishing for their supper.

Wild Argyll

There is such a variety of landscape in Argyll. From the hill above our village we can look inland over long sea-lochs, oak-clad hillsides and high mountains. In the other direction, the intricate coastline is scattered with rocky islets and sandy beaches. Out to the west, the open sea is sheltered by the larger islands of the inner Hebrides.

Recently we made a 3 minute video to publicise this landscape for the Heart of Argyll Tourism Alliance. You can find it by looking for "Inspired by the Heart of Argyll - YouTube".

While making the video we put out lobster pots and caught this beautiful animal. It really did seem like a creature from another world. As the video shows, in Argyll there's always something new to provide inspiration.

Lobster, screen print, ed. of 25

Corncrake Chess

Screenprint made in the studio - edition of 4.

Black and white players are moving across the flat chequerboard of fields on Oronsay. They are pawns in a large-as-life game of biodiversity, played out on the land. The Barnacle Geese look out of place on these fields. The black and white markings which camouflage them against the rocky screes of their nesting cliffs in Greenland look incongruous here.  They are seeking refuge from the frozen weather of the North and, alongside the black Hebridean Sheep, they are grazing the winter grass short.
It may be the RSPB who are controlling the game by offering rich, undisturbed grazing on the in-by fields, but on this island at least, it is the wildlife who are the winners. Once the geese have been cleared from the board by the southerly winds of spring, the star players will move in. The clues are to be seen around the winter field margins. The woody remains of knapweed, cow parsely, dock and nettle show how the game will develop. The vegetation will grow in the Spring sunshine to provide cover for Corncrakes as they return from sub-Saharan Africa to breed. These are the kings and queens of the island. With the field cleared by the winter workers, new growth will be open, allowing these shy  rails to pass easily through it.
Corncrakes have disappeared from most of mainland Britain, and so management here concentrates on sustaining these birds, the vulnerable key pieces of the chess board. They may have reached check-mate elsewhere, but with 24 calling males in these few fields, the game is still on.

Sketch made in the field.

Winter Starlings

Screenprint made in the studio, edition of 6.

The first job of a winter's morning on Oronsay is to put out silage as extra food for the cows. There's not a lot a nutrient left in the gale-battered fields, as there's been no strength in the sun for months. Normally a bale-shredder chops and spreads the silage, but when the machine breaks down, the RSPB volunteers have to set to and fork out two massive bales by hand. Nathalie, the assistant warden, looks skinny, but she's much stronger than I am. Her golden hair flies in the wind, the same colour as the silage. I point out this artistic detail to her, but strangely I don't think she's flattered by the comparison.
The spread line of silage avoids jostling, so that even the younger beasts can get to the food. Their feet poach up the ground, knocking out bracken shoots, and allowing any wildflower seeds from the silage to germinate. That's if there are any seeds left over. A flock of starlings descend, squawking and squabbling over the food. Its not just the cows who are being sustained through the winter months.

Sketch made in the field.

Border skirmish

I've been screenprinting using drawings of Ringed Plovers from last year. I made my sketches last Spring as I was waiting for eider ducks to come ashore on Oronsay. As I watched the beach I was aware of an urgent, insistent calling. I picked out three Ringed Plovers, camouflaged amongst the seaweed, but none of them were moving their bills. They were spread out strategically across the beach like mini masked marauders, but if this was a border skirmish, there should have been a fourth bird. After twenty minutes of scanning I was beginning to think the plovers were ventriloquists. Every time I started to draw, the noise would start up again, but the tiny bandits continued their border patrol with beaks closed.

Sketch made in the field

Eventually, almost under my nose, I spotted it. The fourth bird was digging a nest scrape, chest on the ground and legs whirring away, flinging out sand and pebbles behind it. And every time it did so it called frantically. As its mate approached, it fanned its tail and postured. The female looked unimpressed. With a flurry of piping the male goose-stepped alongside her, more militia than marauder. As his calling reached a crescendo he seemed to convince himself, or maybe her, and fluttered onto her back to mate.

Screenprint made in the studio, edition of 5.

At the Kelvingrove Museum

What a great museum! The Kelvingrove in Glasgow is an impressive victorian building which has been beautifully maintained and filled with an exciting variety of art, artefacts and natural history. I really enjoyed looking around it, once I finished hanging our FAME exhibition in the Scottish Natural History section.




Artists Tim Wootton, Howard Towll, Rhian Field, Sandy Grant, Ruth Carruthers and myself collaborated with the RSPB to publicise the work of scientists from the "Future of Atlantic Marine Environment" project. They are finding out where seabirds go to feed, so that Government can legislate to protect these areas.




Each artist contributed two pictures. This screenprint of a shag defending its nest I finished last week in the studio, using sketches from Colonsay.




This painting of kittiwakes was made at the seabird cliffs in May. The studio work is more controlled, whilst the field work has to be produced at speed. It started raining as I was finishing this picture, and I like the texture on the cliffs made by raindrops falling on the page.

All the pictures in the exhibition will be auctioned by the RSPB later in the year.

Seabird screenprints

In May I again visited the crowded seabird cliffs of Colonsay. An overwhelming number of birds were all pursuing the business of life and survival; choosing a mate, building a nest, finding enough food to raise young. We find these tasks challenging enough ourselves, but we have the help of weather forecasts, GPS and shelter from the elements (not to mention internet dating). How do these birds raise a chick perched on a cliff-face exposed to the Atlantic, and how can they find suitable food in that seemingly featureless expanse of water?

As fulmars wheeled above me, guillemots squabbled and jostled on ledges next to me, and the calls of kittiwakes shrieked up from the gullies below, I clung on to the cliff-face. As an artist I was supposed to be making some sense of this chaos on paper, but my paints were still in my bag. 

 That’s when I met Ellie and Tessa, scientists from the RSPB FAME project. They were studying individual birds to uncover some of the mysteries of seabird survival. When they showed me their results, my amazement increased. How could a bird as delicate as a kittiwake travel so far across the waves? How could a bird as small as a razorbill dive so deep below them? 

The FAME girls and I decided to work together. We invited other artists to join us in an exhibition at the Kelvingrove Museum in Glasgow, aiming to share a little of the magic of a seabird colony . By combining art and science we hope to offer a glimpse into that extraordinary world, and unravel some of its mysteries. The exhibition is called "Sea Art Differently" and runs from 13th to 21st October 2012.

Summer

On the west coast this year we had a lovely summer - which makes up for the wet mud-bath we had to endure last year.  The brambles are luscious in the hedgerows, and my painting has also been developing in the summer sun.  Thus no time for posting on the blog.  I hope to ferment the fruits of both brambles and field sketches into something that will sustain me through the winter.

Many small projects have also taken up my time this year. I've written an article on seabirds for the RSPB 'Birds' Magazine, and I ran wildlife art workshops on Colonsay for their Spring Festival.  I've been teaching paper-making and printmaking at a local school in association with Kilmartin House Museum. I also produced bird images for Buffera for them to use on an "I Spy" type identification buff.  Examples below.

Mackerel

We were down on the jetty yesterday and someone brought in the first mackerel of the year from the Sound of Jura. Normally we don't expect them until June. Cuckoos and swallows are all arriving on time, but it's unusual to catch mackerel before you've even heard a grasshopper warbler. In the garden lizards and baby slow worms are basking in the sun and eying up the scurrying ants. Spring is here!

Barnacle Geese

I've just spent a week on Oronsay to see the barnacle geese before 
they head north in mid-April.  2500 of these birds spend the winter on 
the island. The mild west coast weather and sympathetic farm-
management by the RSPB, mean that there is fresh grass for them to 
graze all through the winter. You can hear their distant cackling 
from wherever you are on the island, and glimpse a speckled black and 
white flock on many a distant field.
The prospect of drawing a huge group of milling stripy geese is a bit 
daunting. I can see why their markings confuse predators, as it's 
difficult to pick out individuals. They seem like a herd of zebras on 
the island plains.
In March the cattle and sheep are taken off the in-by fields around 
the house to allow corncrake habitat to grow up. The geese love the 
fresh new growth on these ungrazed fields. I sit in the landrover 
with a telescope and try to make sense of the flock. It's still a 
struggle.  As the sun gets lower I give up and retreat to warmth of 
the farmhouse.  Sitting at the kitchen table, gin and tonic to hand, 
I watch as the geese graze ever nearer, until they are just outside 
the window. This close, I can appreciate the delicate patterning of 
individual birds, and work out how the feathers lie. The black and 
white must give camouflage against the snow and rock of their nesting 
grounds. It's hard to imagine that in a few weeks these back-yard 
geese will be refuelling in Iceland en route to the wild Greenland 
tundra.
When we open the back door last thing at night there's a noise like a 
breaking wave as the flock takes off in the dark.  Over the next few 
weeks the small flocks will join together and their calling get 
louder and louder as they wait for a wind from the south. Then 
suddenly one morning the island will be quiet.

Tricky Tups

To get to the shallow pools where the lapwing display on Oronsay,
I have to negotiate several gates.
Each one involves getting in and out of the landrover twice,
and many involve wrestling with an idiosyncratic and 
cranky bolt. Worse still, the entire route can be surveyed from the 
kitchen window of the farm, so all my tribulations can be noted by 
Mike. The trickiest part of this obstacle course is the gate onto the 
dunes where every morning a reception committee of tups awaits me. 
All winter they have been fed pellets to supplement the winter grass, 
and they see no reason why that should stop now. As I open the gate 
they all surge forwards, jostling around the landrover and banging it 
with their horns. I manage to get past them, but now of course the 
sheep are on the wrong side of the gate. I try to run around them to 
herd them back through, but more animals stream into the field, 
bleating expectantly at me. Eventually I grab the plastic bag that 
covers my sketch pads and shake it at them. Food!! They stream back 
through the gate as I run twice around the landrover and swing the 
gate closed, hoping that Mike has finished his breakfast and is busy 
elsewhere.