17 July 2024

I wake up at the same pearly dawn as yesterday and this time, at 5 am, haul myself out of bed. 

Paul and Clare have invited me to join them for some bumblebee surveys. “In the fields next to Howan”, aka the ochre house that we see from all around the island. It doesn’t occur to me that they will be approaching from the track directly to the west of the house – the obvious route in from their end of the island. If I had looked at a map I would have seen that this was the only sensible route for me, as well. Instead, I attempt to travel as the crow flies, significantly under-estimating the complexity of the barbed-wire field boundaries of this heavily agricultural area. Assailed by curious sheep and steers, sinking in a flag-iris quagmire, I am close and yet so far from said house. At 10:30 am the “phone Mum” alert rings on my phone. Balanced between two tussocks, it is surreal to be able to chat with a good connection.

An hour and a half later, I have retraced my steps and done the sensible thing – in time to walk the last transect before lunch. It’s a very hit and miss affair. The basic idea is to walk a series of 16 m spaced lines from one side of the field to the other, slowly observing any bumblebee activity within a 2 m radius of where one is standing. Apart from the Great yellow bumblebee, particularly at risk, there are four other species that we could be seeing, including the garden bumblebee, Bombus hortorum. 

And then a differentiation needs to be made between queen or worker, and the gender of the worker. Uf. Unless there is a dense patch of the favoured foraging wildflower (Tufted vetch is a favourite), which might hold the bees long enough to allow a good observation, the event has to be categorised as “unidentified”. Occasionally, however, a bee can be caught and, in a little tube with a tissue taking up most of the space, the bee is pressed to the exterior of the tube and an observation of the shape of its face be made. The Garden bumblebee has a long and tapered face. All very tricky, to say the least. Happily, the scientific world is not relying on R Skillman’s bumblebee data. I am merely shadowing Paul and Vicky as they go about their business. 😁

Back at the house, Stanley has reacted to me delaying feeding her (I couldn’t see the point in putting out her food in the morning as she never eats until late in the evening) by delivering the corpse of a Meadow pippit. 😬

After lunch we do the same bee observations in two different fields, using the truck to get around. I feel as though I have had a tour of the whole island. And what’s not to like about strolling through a gorgeous, flower-rich meadow, pretending to be gathering data.  

There is so much we don’t know: what happened in previous years? What is happening on other islands? Is the reason for the low number of bee sightings to do with the appalling May, and diminished populations; or are we between breeding cycles which means that there are fewer queens out; or are the species currently in flower not to the bees’ liking?

At the end of a full day’s work, ha ha, there is just time for me to zip to the beach for a swim. I can’t find the words to describe the beauty of this place, with the Sun out: turquoise water, gentle ripping waves, pristine water. I am immersed when an islander walks past. And have to far exceed my 3-minute dip, to allow him to pass, emerging after around five minutes to retrieve my clothes. 😂

The icing on the cake of a lovely day is to have my supper cooked for me at Paul and Clare‘s. We eat macaroni cheese in their plushy living room overlooking the Rousay sound. Through the window we have a sight line through to Kirkwall, and a distant view of a 3600-berth cruise ship.

We swap stories from Paul and Clare’s recent Wwoofing trips around Scotland this summer, and mine from previous years. In the background, we can hear the call of a snipe. And then by incredible coincidence – these birds are reputedly difficult to see – Paul and I pass a snipe  sitting on a fencing post when he drives me back to the house. Fantastic.