Bliain - Part 14
07th July 2021
Part fourteen of my project to make a photograph every day for a full year, or bliain in Irish. Find Part 13 here.
22nd June
This small, unassuming bird is a guillemot, the poor relation of the famous puffin. While the latter is deemed cute enough to have celebrity status the former is generally unheard of, but no less interesting in my mind. Both birds are members of the auk family – we have two other breeding species in Ireland, the razorbill and the black guillemot. Auks are diving birds, not like gannets, which plunge into the sea from the air, but instead slipping quietly under from sitting on the sea’s surface to swim down after their prey. Quite far down in fact. Guillemots fitted with depth recorders have revealed the staggering capabilities of this overlooked bird – some dives can be one hundred and fifty metres deep, and are regularly half of that distance below sea level. With these deep dives guillemots can access fish that no other seabirds can get to. They occupy much the same niche as penguins do in the Southern Hemisphere, though unlike the penguins they have managed to retain the ability to fly. Just about anyway. If you’ve ever seen a guillemot in a frenzied panic in its attempt to escape from a passing boat you’ll see how their flight is compromised. The poor things’ heart rates must be through the roof at times like these and I wish so much I could let them know they’re not in any harm.
23rd June
Yesterday’s guillemot might not be the most conventionally beautiful animal (though I certainly didn’t help its case photographing it in that pose or light) but it’s hard to argue that the arctic tern is anything other than gorgeous. Their simple but striking markings, splayed tail feathers and bouncing, agile flight give them an air of elegance, though any ideas of daintiness and delicacy that might come about from the use of that word are quickly dispelled when you watch them fearlessly and fiercely protect their nests from opportunistic gulls. I recall seeing very few if any arctic terns around the Blaskets last summer, perhaps because lockdowns prevented me getting out around the islands until later in the year. But I was happy to see a number of pairs at a breeding site on this fine evening. And happy too to see fish in the bills of plenty of birds. Arctic terns hold the record for the longest migration of any animal in the world. Some of them almost go from pole to pole, chasing the summer all year long.
24th June
I had planned on continuing with the seabird theme today but my attempts at photographing puffins at work all fell far short of anything acceptable. The evening’s weather wasn’t very inspiring either, and as the day gave way to night I found myself trying another one of the last resort options on my list for such occasions. And so here’s a wet and misty blue hour scene from Ventry Pier.
25th June
A sky reminiscent of scenes I’ve seen in photographs from beneath the sea. It looks to me like the churning chaos beneath a big breaking wave. Which makes sense since clouds are 100% water. Doesn’t it?!
26th June
Camera motivation is very low these days but even these dips in enthusiasm can be a good thing. It was too windy for some local macro photography this evening and I was too lazy to go anywhere for sunset so I turned my eye to my immediate surroundings. This is the house next door to me. The picture is far from conventionally brilliant but I like it all the same. The geometry of the stepped ridges and powerline pole contrasts with the random scatter of haphazard clouds. It was satisfying to explore ways of looking at a scene purely for the sake of shape and composition and not worrying whether or not it fit within the narrow category of “natural beauty” that I usually aim for.
27th June
The same house from a different angle. At the end of a two hour walk after work this evening I still ended up making a photo within a stone’s throw of home. Again it’s something easy to pass over, but there was a satisfaction in noticing how the three roof angles stack up one above the other. Like the sheds I photographed recently, it could be from anywhere in Ireland, and I enjoy finding scenes that are representative of a bigger area rather than a specific place sometimes. Or perhaps that’s my excuse to justify not finding anything particularly beautiful or striking to photograph earlier in the day.
28th June
Back to natural, non-linear patterns after my few days of architectural explorations. A simple sand scene in the soft light of another bright evening.
29th June
A young grey seal taking rest on a low tide ledge on Inis Mhic Aoibhleáin. Seal skin must be tough stuff if this animal can look so relaxed on a shelf of barnacled, mussel-clad stone. It seems as though every square inch of rock in this picture is lived on by some form of life. I can’t find a single centimeter that isn’t encrusted in algae or home to some mollusc. It’s a wonder that so much life can thrive in a radically changeable environment like this exposed, tidal cliff is.
30th June
Today felt like the first day of summer – the sky was clear, there was heat in the sun and the air was incredibly calm. I swam twice in a silky, lukewarm sea and walked the green lane behind home among buzzing bees and fluttering butterflies while foxgloves leaned out of the fuchsia hedges, heavy with blossom. Wild grasses lined the track, and among them was a wide variety of colourful wildflowers. It felt as though every living thing was out to worship the sun, and I one of them. An utterly charming summer day.
1st July
An aerial view of the north side of the Dingle Peninsula. The upper curve of shoreline is Brandon Bay, with its seven miles of unbroken sand from Fermoyle to Fahamore. The smaller bay with the boats on their moorings is Scraggane, and to the left is the western end of Tralee Bay. It was an exceptionally calm day today, with barely an air of wind. There are very few days in the year as placid and still as this, particularly in West Kerry.
2nd July
Last night I stayed in my campervan in a friend’s field at The Maharees. I slept within a stone’s throw of the water and couldn’t even hear a wash on the shore when I woke during the night. I was hoping the sunrise would be bright so I could photograph the scene presented yesterday in warm morning light. Alas, it was still overcast, but no harm. As I sat up in the bed a hungry looking fox was trotting along the strand. I got up and flew the drone again, breaking the beautiful silence with the horrible whining sound of the flying machine. This scene shows five of the Seven Hogs, or Maharee Islands. In the top left are Inishtooskert and Illaunimmil. The main island is Illauntannig, connected at low water as seen here to Illaunboe (top) and Reennafardarrig (right). Shortly after Christianity arrived in Ireland a Saint Seannaigh founded a monastery here, the remains of which are in great shape for their age. The island is named after him, as is the townland on the shore opposite, Kilshannig (Church of Seannaigh). The Maharees are a favourite paddling destination of mine. They’re easily overlooked but should definitely be on any Irish sea kayaker’s bucket list. Particularly if you get sea conditions like this.
3rd July
A gloomy dusk after a damp evening in the home parish. This image is a bit of a last ditched effort late in the day. Between work and my brother arriving for a visit I nearly forgot to get the camera out. After a drizzly barbeque my brother asked to see the drone so I launched it to show him, and while it was up I made a quick snap of the darkening scene. It’s hardly a memorable image but at least it’s fairly representative of how it feels here much of the time.
4th July
Common dolphin getting some air time in Dingle Bay. There has been great numbers of these endlessly energetic animals within easy reach of the shore recently. They are such a joy to watch – despite almost six full summers of seeing them on a regular basis (and uncountable encounters before then too) I never tire of the privilege. Their speed, fluid movement and lively energy couldn’t but raise your spirits. Whether watching them ride the boat’s bow wave or seeing them rush in from afar with a torpedo’s trajectory they never fail to impress.
5th July
Puffin trio off Slea Head. There have been puffins east of the islands all summer long so far, which was a rare sight before this year. Usually puffin sightings off West Kerry are all close to the outer Blaskets, where they breed in the summer months, or further out to sea. I’ve no idea why they’re appearing so far east of the islands this year. The sightings of common dolphins and minke whales have been better than usual in this area too, and I’ve also noticed a lot more birds carrying fish this year than in any of the previous five years I’ve worked here. Perhaps the fishing is better in Dingle Bay than west of the Blaskets at the moment. I do hope that’s the case. The state of the world’s oceans is generally pretty dire, so the idea that things could be going well seems too good to be true. The seas around the Blaskets are unsurpassed in Ireland when it comes to diversity and abundance of marine wildlife, and we’d be wise to do all we can to help keep it that way.
Find Part 15 here
22nd June
This small, unassuming bird is a guillemot, the poor relation of the famous puffin. While the latter is deemed cute enough to have celebrity status the former is generally unheard of, but no less interesting in my mind. Both birds are members of the auk family – we have two other breeding species in Ireland, the razorbill and the black guillemot. Auks are diving birds, not like gannets, which plunge into the sea from the air, but instead slipping quietly under from sitting on the sea’s surface to swim down after their prey. Quite far down in fact. Guillemots fitted with depth recorders have revealed the staggering capabilities of this overlooked bird – some dives can be one hundred and fifty metres deep, and are regularly half of that distance below sea level. With these deep dives guillemots can access fish that no other seabirds can get to. They occupy much the same niche as penguins do in the Southern Hemisphere, though unlike the penguins they have managed to retain the ability to fly. Just about anyway. If you’ve ever seen a guillemot in a frenzied panic in its attempt to escape from a passing boat you’ll see how their flight is compromised. The poor things’ heart rates must be through the roof at times like these and I wish so much I could let them know they’re not in any harm.
23rd June
Yesterday’s guillemot might not be the most conventionally beautiful animal (though I certainly didn’t help its case photographing it in that pose or light) but it’s hard to argue that the arctic tern is anything other than gorgeous. Their simple but striking markings, splayed tail feathers and bouncing, agile flight give them an air of elegance, though any ideas of daintiness and delicacy that might come about from the use of that word are quickly dispelled when you watch them fearlessly and fiercely protect their nests from opportunistic gulls. I recall seeing very few if any arctic terns around the Blaskets last summer, perhaps because lockdowns prevented me getting out around the islands until later in the year. But I was happy to see a number of pairs at a breeding site on this fine evening. And happy too to see fish in the bills of plenty of birds. Arctic terns hold the record for the longest migration of any animal in the world. Some of them almost go from pole to pole, chasing the summer all year long.
24th June
I had planned on continuing with the seabird theme today but my attempts at photographing puffins at work all fell far short of anything acceptable. The evening’s weather wasn’t very inspiring either, and as the day gave way to night I found myself trying another one of the last resort options on my list for such occasions. And so here’s a wet and misty blue hour scene from Ventry Pier.
25th June
A sky reminiscent of scenes I’ve seen in photographs from beneath the sea. It looks to me like the churning chaos beneath a big breaking wave. Which makes sense since clouds are 100% water. Doesn’t it?!
26th June
Camera motivation is very low these days but even these dips in enthusiasm can be a good thing. It was too windy for some local macro photography this evening and I was too lazy to go anywhere for sunset so I turned my eye to my immediate surroundings. This is the house next door to me. The picture is far from conventionally brilliant but I like it all the same. The geometry of the stepped ridges and powerline pole contrasts with the random scatter of haphazard clouds. It was satisfying to explore ways of looking at a scene purely for the sake of shape and composition and not worrying whether or not it fit within the narrow category of “natural beauty” that I usually aim for.
27th June
The same house from a different angle. At the end of a two hour walk after work this evening I still ended up making a photo within a stone’s throw of home. Again it’s something easy to pass over, but there was a satisfaction in noticing how the three roof angles stack up one above the other. Like the sheds I photographed recently, it could be from anywhere in Ireland, and I enjoy finding scenes that are representative of a bigger area rather than a specific place sometimes. Or perhaps that’s my excuse to justify not finding anything particularly beautiful or striking to photograph earlier in the day.
28th June
Back to natural, non-linear patterns after my few days of architectural explorations. A simple sand scene in the soft light of another bright evening.
29th June
A young grey seal taking rest on a low tide ledge on Inis Mhic Aoibhleáin. Seal skin must be tough stuff if this animal can look so relaxed on a shelf of barnacled, mussel-clad stone. It seems as though every square inch of rock in this picture is lived on by some form of life. I can’t find a single centimeter that isn’t encrusted in algae or home to some mollusc. It’s a wonder that so much life can thrive in a radically changeable environment like this exposed, tidal cliff is.
30th June
Today felt like the first day of summer – the sky was clear, there was heat in the sun and the air was incredibly calm. I swam twice in a silky, lukewarm sea and walked the green lane behind home among buzzing bees and fluttering butterflies while foxgloves leaned out of the fuchsia hedges, heavy with blossom. Wild grasses lined the track, and among them was a wide variety of colourful wildflowers. It felt as though every living thing was out to worship the sun, and I one of them. An utterly charming summer day.
1st July
An aerial view of the north side of the Dingle Peninsula. The upper curve of shoreline is Brandon Bay, with its seven miles of unbroken sand from Fermoyle to Fahamore. The smaller bay with the boats on their moorings is Scraggane, and to the left is the western end of Tralee Bay. It was an exceptionally calm day today, with barely an air of wind. There are very few days in the year as placid and still as this, particularly in West Kerry.
2nd July
Last night I stayed in my campervan in a friend’s field at The Maharees. I slept within a stone’s throw of the water and couldn’t even hear a wash on the shore when I woke during the night. I was hoping the sunrise would be bright so I could photograph the scene presented yesterday in warm morning light. Alas, it was still overcast, but no harm. As I sat up in the bed a hungry looking fox was trotting along the strand. I got up and flew the drone again, breaking the beautiful silence with the horrible whining sound of the flying machine. This scene shows five of the Seven Hogs, or Maharee Islands. In the top left are Inishtooskert and Illaunimmil. The main island is Illauntannig, connected at low water as seen here to Illaunboe (top) and Reennafardarrig (right). Shortly after Christianity arrived in Ireland a Saint Seannaigh founded a monastery here, the remains of which are in great shape for their age. The island is named after him, as is the townland on the shore opposite, Kilshannig (Church of Seannaigh). The Maharees are a favourite paddling destination of mine. They’re easily overlooked but should definitely be on any Irish sea kayaker’s bucket list. Particularly if you get sea conditions like this.
3rd July
A gloomy dusk after a damp evening in the home parish. This image is a bit of a last ditched effort late in the day. Between work and my brother arriving for a visit I nearly forgot to get the camera out. After a drizzly barbeque my brother asked to see the drone so I launched it to show him, and while it was up I made a quick snap of the darkening scene. It’s hardly a memorable image but at least it’s fairly representative of how it feels here much of the time.
4th July
Common dolphin getting some air time in Dingle Bay. There has been great numbers of these endlessly energetic animals within easy reach of the shore recently. They are such a joy to watch – despite almost six full summers of seeing them on a regular basis (and uncountable encounters before then too) I never tire of the privilege. Their speed, fluid movement and lively energy couldn’t but raise your spirits. Whether watching them ride the boat’s bow wave or seeing them rush in from afar with a torpedo’s trajectory they never fail to impress.
5th July
Puffin trio off Slea Head. There have been puffins east of the islands all summer long so far, which was a rare sight before this year. Usually puffin sightings off West Kerry are all close to the outer Blaskets, where they breed in the summer months, or further out to sea. I’ve no idea why they’re appearing so far east of the islands this year. The sightings of common dolphins and minke whales have been better than usual in this area too, and I’ve also noticed a lot more birds carrying fish this year than in any of the previous five years I’ve worked here. Perhaps the fishing is better in Dingle Bay than west of the Blaskets at the moment. I do hope that’s the case. The state of the world’s oceans is generally pretty dire, so the idea that things could be going well seems too good to be true. The seas around the Blaskets are unsurpassed in Ireland when it comes to diversity and abundance of marine wildlife, and we’d be wise to do all we can to help keep it that way.
Find Part 15 here