Amanda Tuke, the 30-minute Birder, explores the potential of Scotland’s most north-easterly city
I’m loitering outside my Aberdeen hotel, trying to keep warm in the half-hearted September sun, when I spot my guide for the day approaching. Roddy’s rapid stride suggests that he’s buzzing with energy. I wonder how long I’m going to be able to keep up with him, and so I confess it’s a relief when we start by catching a bus from Union Street for the short hop east towards the esplanade and beach. Diverting through the unadorned Trinity Cemetery, we find a scurry of noisy Oystercatchers among the headstones, apparently in dispute. Roddy tells me they nest here, making use of the patches of gravel, and sometimes brazenly choosing sites alongside the cemetery path.
From the cemetery, we make our way up and over the rough grassland of Broad Hill, known locally as a particularly good ‘vis mig’ area. Looking north-east, golf courses line the coast, and Roddy tells me that large numbers of migrating birds are channelled along this green sliver, when they reach the northern edge of Aberdeen.
From the hill’s summit we follow a line of Scots Pines, but other than a few Meadow Pipits, House Martins and a modest flock of Linnets. there’s not much ‘migging’ going on today at all. It’s sunny and still, so not the best conditions for migration spectacles, but I’m quietly enjoying the unexpected Scottish warmth. I hear that summer took longer than usual to get going up here, and it now seems reluctant to end. And as we start to descend, it’s good to see three (not so) Common Gulls below us, resting in the sun on a sports field.
A Chiffchaff calls in the distance, and then I spot a warbler-sized bird flitting from one tree to the next in front of us. I’m pleased when I correctly identify it as a Whitethroat, probably one passing through. I’ve explained to Roddy, who’s had many years of experience doing upland bird surveys for the RSPB and Joint Nature Conservation Committee, that I’m no expert, but it’s still gratifying to gain a small amount of credibility with a new birding companion early on. Making for the esplanade, we pass an old ballroom venue, and Roddy tells me he found a Citrine Wagtail hopping around in puddles in the car park here four years ago. This highly twitchable bird is a rare visitor from Asia.
With the beach in front of us, we turn northwards, scanning on and between the many groynes poking out to sea. There are Goosander, Eider and Common Scoter on the water, and Common and Sandwich Terns are fishing in the surf. Turnstone, Ringed Plover and Sanderling hunt for food at the water’s edge. After a stretch of walking alongside the beach, Roddy diverts us inland onto the golf course. Emerging onto a scrubby strip lining the fairway, we see a Kestrel hunting, and then I glimpse a pigeon-sized bird flying away from us. We creep along the path to track it down and are delighted to find a Cuckoo, hopping around on the grass. When we finally leave it to its pitstop, a small flock of Tree Sparrows flies over us, although oddly bearing north.
Alongside the fairways, Wheatears flash white, Meadow Pipits scatter and Sky Larks bubble up in the air. Reaching the mouth of Aberdeen’s second river, the Don, we walk through the dunes onto the beach where we can see some interesting bird dots. Unfortunately a dogwalker gets there before us and the birds scatter seaward before we can pin down identities. Turning towards the Brig a Don, (or Bridge of the Don) we wind our way through reeds in a modest riverside nature reserve. A couple of Reed Buntings squabble in front of us and three Curlews poke around in the mud at the water’s edge. On the upstream side of the bridge, we find 17 Grey Seals resting on the mud in the company of a lone male Eider, while a Goosander family fish busily nearby. “There was a Blyth’s Reed Warbler here in 2020”, Roddy says, although he’s worried that I’ll think he’s bragging. This bird, not one I’m familiar with, breeds in Finland and Russia and winters in South Asia… and, it seems, very occasionally turns up in Scotland.
Reaching a choppier stretch of the river in Seaton Park, we see the tell-tale sight of rocks streaked white, and the perp, a Dipper, soon makes an appearance. Following the path through and out of the park, I persuade Roddy, who has survived so far on air while I’ve been snacking, to let me treat him to a sandwich and coffee, before we take another short bus ride back to the city centre.
From the city centre, we catch a third bus, south towards Girdle Ness, the headland south of the central harbour. There, we look out over Aberdeen South Harbour, built to accommodate cruise ships. To ‘mitigate’ the loss of habitat from this newer harbour development, nearby St Fittick’s Park was improved for wildlife, but, despite vigorous ongoing local protest, the park itself is now under threat from further development, in a way that is such a depressingly familiar story in urban Britain.
Crossing another golf course, we reach the rocky shore and Girdle Ness Lighthouse, and look down to a gravelly patch along the fence bounding the new harbour development where a flock of Linnets and a few Wheatears are flitting around. Reaching the lighthouse, we settle down in the sun with our backs against its wall for a spot of seawatching. Kittiwakes with ink-dipped wings fly in to perch in their hundreds on one of the harbour walls. Another wall has a large colony of Cormorants with a light sprinkling of Shag.
Roddy points out an Arctic Skua far out at sea and we can also see Razorbills and Guillemots. I add Dunlin and finally a Rock Pipit to my list before we have another coffee stop in a café with a spectacular view over a bay. A school of Bottlenose Dolphins are playing around in the water below us, riding the prow of an outgoing fishing boat.
En route back to the main harbour, we find a final and promising-looking jetty with a tower at the end, and scan the large numbers of birds roosting. Among the Turnstones and Ringed Plovers, is a lone Purple Sandpiper, which is a delightful new tick for me. A flock of Redshank shelter at the base of the jetty wall, which gives me a very tidy total score of 50 bird species for today’s tour.
Rounding the headland back to the harbour, we find ferries bound for the Orkneys and Shetland dwarfed by immense oil tankers. It’s no surprise to hear from Roddy that visiting birders can often be persuaded to hang around this bird migration flyway, on their way to the Northern Isles.
Aberdeen is a delightfully compact city with a good public transport network and an amazing diversity of birdwatching habitats within easy reach of the central rail station. I’ve also learned that Aberdonian birders are made of strong stuff... but Roddy has been a knowledgeable, kind and accommodating bird guide, tolerant of my soft southerner requirements for the regular intake of both caffeine and calories.
Corvid care
Amanda chats to Aberdeen-based nature writer, Esther Woolfson
When I meet up with Esther, the first thing I ask her is whether she is still caring for rescue corvids in her Aberdeen home, as she describes in her book Corvus. “Sadly, Chick [her Rook] passed away a few years ago at the age of 31”, she tells me. “But I still have Zik, a crow I’ve had since 2007 after he’d suffered a head injury and couldn’t survive in the wild”.
As is clear in her books, Esther is fascinated by human-animal relationships. “While reading the science about corvid intelligence is fascinating, living alongside corvids, as I have, helps give you an insight into the complexity of the way they think,” she tells me.
Esther and I share an interest in the way we interact with nature, in particular wild birds, in our cities. “It always seems strange when someone tells you that they are ‘an animal lover’”, she muses, “but seems unwilling to see the impact that their behaviour has on wild animals, whether it’s letting their dogs chase waders on our beaches or demonising either Magpies or what they call ‘seagulls’”.
I tell her what a great time I’ve had birding in Aberdeen, and Esther agrees that it’s a fantastic city for birdwatching, with a range of habitats within easy reach of the centre. Indeed, in her book, Field Notes from a Hidden City, Esther observes the urban birds and other animals in Aberdeen over the course of a year and questions our attitudes to urban and non-urban wildlife.
Esther’s most recent book is Between Light and Storm: an exploration of our often fraught relationship with animals.
Sites to find
Roddy’s route for visiting birding sites within 30 mins on foot or by public transport from Aberdeen rail station
Broad Hill is 30-minute walk or 18-minute bus journey from central Aberdeen, is a great spot for watching migrating birds.
From Broad Hill, it’s a five-minute walk to the Esplanade and Beach north of the Dee, for waders, sea ducks, and other sea birds.
Turn off the Esplanade onto Kings Links to scan for interesting migrants which have been channelled along the east coast. Roddy found a Citrine Wagtail here one year.
Then further follow the coast north to the Don Estuary and River (also 30 minutes by bus direct from the city centre), for waders and sea birds, as well as wetland birds in the riverside nature reserve, and keep an eye out for basking Grey Seals on the mudflats.
Return to the city centre via 27-hectare Seaton Park for woodland birds and Dippers.
From the city centre, it’s a 30-minute bus trip and walk to Girdle Ness Lighthouse for sea-watching, and then following the coast round to the harbour, for waders and gulls roosting on the jetties and Bottlenose Dolphins in the coves.
In the unlikely event you’ve had enough of seabirds by this stage, 18-hectare Duthie Park is a 20-minute bus ride from the city centre for typical birds of urban parks.