Orkney Island Holidays

"Orchids and terrapins and long-legged buzzards
Dolphins and butterflies and sub-alpine warblers.
Hoopoes and avocets and red-backed shrikes..
These are a few of my favourite things.

When the sun shines, and the frogs croak, When the nightingale sings
I simply remember my favourite things and then I don't feel so bad!"

"The show is over. Paul and Louise can put away their magic wands. But first they must turn the hoopoes back into magpies, the glossy ibis into rooks, the orchids into daisies and wash the blue dye out of the thrushes. We'll tell all our friends we've seen a cinereous bunting, a pair of Krüper's nuthatches, and a trio of rollers. But they'll say it was all a magical dream. But it wasn't, was it?"

"You have obviously chosen the exact time to get views of the most interesting birds, and as for the wild flowers - Well! - I cannot enthuse enough. Even the one shower was interestingly odd in that the rain apparently contained mud from the Sahara!"

"I thoroughly enjoyed being detached for a while from daily routines, from traffic noise, world news, and general "business". It was such a pleasure to be immersed in the peace and beauty of the island landscape, to have encounters with local people, and to thrill to so many unusual bird sightings. Your expert knowledge made all the difference, for me anyway, in understanding what we were seeing."

"Paul is our leader from Shapinsay,
We've come with him to Cuba on a birding Holiday,
We see him looking and listening too,
And helping the likes of me and you.

Oh island in the sun, shown to us by a real Cuban,
All our days we will sing in praise of your Emerald, Tody and Trogon.

She's a fair lass from the Orkney Isles,
Looked after us and brought lots of smiles,
With quizzes and music under Cuban sun,
Louise makes it fun for everyone."

"Our first day was spent on a birdwatching spree;
Many were seen, don't you agree?
We stopped for fresh coconut, drank through a straw,
Then we chewed on the flesh, creamy and raw.
We bought a few pendants made from dried seeds;
We adorned our necks with the colourful beads.
My cabin is spacious, cool and quite neat,
The towels are folded and shaped, oh, how sweet!
I jump out of bed, my swimsuit I don,
Then into the sea, the Caribbea-on.
The birds we have seen are too many to call,
We do have a list to remember them all.
Now that my Holiday has come to end
It's been rather lovely and I've made lots of friends."

"A splendid Holiday, a great guide Daniel, delicious food, wonderful company, a time to remember for a long time, especially the tremendous variety of birds, and the change in landscapes from the Carpathian Mountains to the Danube Delta. Thankyou, Paul and Louise, for organising it."

"There's a big bird there, high up in the air,
It's an eagle, oh how regal!
No, no, get it right! It is still in sight
Is it white-tailed, booted or imperial?"

"Shetland is a magic place
With wicks and geos and voes,
So sing its praise in poetry (?)
It merits more than prose

The birds and flowers, cliffs and moors
Are spread both far and wide
And as for looking for otters -
We're nearly all cross-eyed.

We've picnicked near the puffins
Watched gannets glide and soar
We've heard about the Vikings
On the rubble trail, and more

We've all enjoyed our week so much
Due to Louise and Paul
The one thing that we want to say -
Warm thankyous from us all. "

"There's a special northern place called Shetland
A treasure for those in the know,
And Mr. and Mrs. Hollinrake
Went there with some birders in tow.

So what did we see in a harbour
Apart from the wonderful view?
Only Orcas - how's that for exciting?
And Paul had gone off to the loo!

And so we all go a-Viking
To St. Ninian and Bressay and Noss.
Our sticks have no horses' head handles -
It may rain - we don't give a toss.

We've seen many a red-throated diver,
And Whimbrels and storm petrels too,
And even a rose-coloured starling.
There's so much these islands can do.

We've seen flowers that grow on the meadows,
We've seen flowers that grow on the scree,
We've seen flowers that grow in ditches, on walls,
But hardly ever a tree! "

"Leaning in semi-darkness
Hard shouldered against these man-built walls
I feel rock breathe and throb.
Two thousand-year-old heart
Beating within this drum-shaped tower,
Its galleries and sharp slanting stairs?
No, my own. My pulse
Compressed against the stone
Messaging back to me.

As ears sharpen and light dims
The rhythmic calls begin
With purring undersound
Swelling and growing.
In the black inner cell
Torches capped, no light reflected
The calling dominates
From every rocky hollow, every space
In both unmortared ring-walls.

At ten to midnight they begin to come.
Against the pale sky and reflecting loch
The first black shapes sweep in
Whirling round the thirty-three foot broch
Homing in each to its mate.
The traffic grows. Thousands of birds
Like gnats rotating in a summer haze,
Black snowflakes whirling in a children's toy,
Ignoring watchers, sweep and spin and dive,
Flutter and cling to walls
Seeking their chosen holes, knowing the calls,
Penetrating rock.

It's change-over time after days at sea.
It's hubbub at midnight: it goes on and on
Till lingering light begins again in the east.
Along the pale loch shore the heaps and lines
Of darker boulders continue to throb and shout
Ten thousand stormy petrels crying "Here!" "