We set out from Seahouses, a small town on the east Northumberland coast. It was a sunny day with barely a puff of wind, which boded well for Andrew who was hoping to get some recordings.

Our small tug boat departed at 10am, and en route we observed Grey Seals lolling on the rocky outcrops amongst the kelp as the sea crashed and sprayed around them.

Grey seals in the surf

The smell from the islands hit us before we arrived, very strong and pungent. No complaints from me though, you have to take the good with the bad – no poop, no birds!

Once off the boat we parted ways, Andrew with the microphones and I with the camera and telephoto lens.

I have wanted to see puffins all my life. This bird has captured my imagination, they can look so sad and serious. Maybe it is their ‘clown-like’ face that gives them a sense of self-containment. Whatever it is, I have a great affection for them.

Unlike the other birds on the Islands, puffins are pretty much silent, but according to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, the Atlantic puffin is “silent above ground, but in its breeding burrow makes a growling sound like a chainsaw buzzing”.

Puffins come to breed and raise their young on these islands during the spring, along with huge populations of Kittiwakes, Guillemots, Shags, Arctic Terns and Razorbills. By mid summer, they have departed the islands for their migration, and will be out at sea for the next nine months of the year.

So in a month the islands will be bird-free – we are here at the right time!

We are staying in a cottage that backs onto a long distance wilderness walking track that meanders its way through Sweden’s national parks and forests. We were rained in the first three mornings, but today I was up at 2am, and made my way along the track.

Forest in Drevdagen

You can imagine my childlike delight and joy to discover the landscape was inhabited by these creatures. I have no idea how they got there – but some imaginative and creative people have definitely had some fun. I don’t mind not knowing – I love the playful mystery of it all! Needless to say, I got totally distracted and spent the morning in search of tiny doorways, houses, ladders, watchful rocks and kept my eyes open for the occasional Gnome sighting – I hope you enjoy my playful and slightly silly photo blog.

Woodland Gnome

Off for his daily constitutional

Ever watchful for Snotgurglers

Fairy Tree

Ladybug

Beaver Rock

Forest Sprites

Scary monsters, supercreeps!

Oh no… captured by the Snotgurglers!

The moss man

Shy Sprite

Lovely Sprite

A Gnome at Home!

We are both feeling tired and exhausted from the early morning starts, attending to work and being on the move. We have another week ahead in the Toros Mountains, then we can kick back and relax in Göreme (Cappadocia) for a week or so. From there, we will make our way to the Black Sea Coast for our last 10 days. After that – volcanoes willing – we will be off to Sweden via Germany.

I can’t quiet believe we have only three weeks of our time in Turkey left. We have loved our time here; the countryside is so varied and beautiful. It has ranged from green, rolling hills, to vast, stark expanses of rugged rock (almost 3D in perspective, ready to give us vertigo just by looking at it). We’ve been through landscapes that we imagine Afghanistan to look like. It has been literally stunning – needless to say, a photographers paradise.

Culturally, its also been fascinating, a real merging of east and west, contemporary and ancient. It has the feel of Eastern Europe and Central Asia. In initial meetings with people, there can be a holding back, but once we open up and extend ourselves, the generosity and care is touching.

Language is our main difficulty, as we still have only a basic grasp of Turkish, we are stumbling to communicate. Yesterday I had to resort to my barely-remembered childhood German just to book ourselves into a hotel. It wasn’t pretty, but it got the job done.

Here is a gallery of landscape images from our trip so far. (Mouse rollover will reveal the caption). We’re sure Turkey has more surprises for us yet.

It’s 10.30 pm, and Andrew and I are about to head off to bed, when we hear a soft thump on the window pane.

From experience we know that a sound like this can only be made by either a large moth attracted by our house lights, or more excitingly, an owl hunting them. On past occasions we have found a Barn Owl outside picking off a Bogong Moth, and on another found a tiny Owlet Nightjar perched on the window ledge, peering in our bedroom window at us.

It is such a rare treat to see these nocturnal birds, so we are keen to see what may have made this noise.

Opening the door, we cautiously move outside, scanning the ground but see nothing nearby. We are about to head back inside when I casually look up.

“Don’t move! …” I tell Andrew.

Perched atop the garden umbrella next to him is a Tawny Frogmouth, Podargus strigoides. If he reached out he could almost touch it. It sits alert and unfazed, its yellow eyes glowing in the gloom, as we back off to get torches and camera.

After flapping to a nearby tree, our Frogmouth settles in, not seeming to mind being the centre of our attention for the next hour. It is a privilege to be so close as he preens and snaps at insects in the torchlight.

Click on images to see at full size.

Beautiful marbled textures in the plumage…

Face showing those remarkable forehead plumes, which it is thought assist during aerial feeding by channelling ‘near-misses’ into the mouth.

Momentarily distracted by a moth flying past…

Preening…

…ah! That’s better now!

Giving us The Look…

Alert to every rustle on the ground

All a bit of a yawn…

Tawny Frogmouths are sometimes erroneously called ‘Mopokes’. But a Mopoke is more correctly the Boobook Owl, which makes the well-known “Mor-pork” call. Frogmouths sound quite different, making repetitive, low booming calls that carry for long distances, and can often be heard throughout the night.

A Tawny Frogmouth features on our album ‘An Evening in the Australian Bush’, and here you can listen to a short sample of one calling in the depths of a bushland night.

More about this album.

Having grown up in the heart of urban Sydney, I thought of these lordly birds as something very exotic, and that I would be lucky to ever see one. My first fleeting sighting then, in outback Queensland, had me excitedly tracking the poor creature through the tropical scrub in the blistering heat of midday for half an hour.

Subsequently we found them to be relatively common, and over time have had many opportunities to photograph them. They call only rarely, and we think it is unlikely they will turn up on one of our nature recordings in the future. So instead, here is a small gallery of images of this magnificent bird.

Here is a male in full breeding display posture, with throat sack extended and tail feathers cocked. Note the breast-sac feathers that trail down to the ground, and are swung conspicuously and slowly from side to side while the bill is pointed skywards.

Bustards have to run heavily to gain airspeed, but once airborne they fly with powerful wingbeats and effortless grace over the grassy plains that are their home.