Whilst there is plenty of activity in the countryside taking advantage of the milder weather of the first half of January, there is the other side of the coin.
For very large areas of the Highlands, the landscape of moorland and hills with their snow-covered tops look desolate and almost forbidding. Few birds choose to spend the winter in such areas. You can walk all day in many of these areas and see no birds or for that matter hear no sounds of them.
There are, however, two exceptions and these are both comparatively large birds and, interestingly, they are two of the earliest breeding birds. One is a major icon of the Highlands scene that seems to epitomise the wildness that is still to be found and this is the golden eagle. The other, much smaller, bird may be to a certain extent overlooked but it has probably more folklore and myths than any other bird. This is the raven, which most people regard with some awe and perhaps even respect.
Ravens were always regarded as scavengers mainly feeding on carrion and were even regularly seen on the streets of Edinburgh taking whatever they could find. But this did not stop the gamekeepers of years ago persecuting them as they thought the bird was a threat to their livelihood.
During the 20th century there was also drastic habitat changes in many parts, such as afforestation, that caused a decline in the raven and at one time it could even be considered as scarce. In more recent years, however, the scene has changed and there are probably more ravens around now than there have been for a very long time.
Ten years ago the raven was increasing in numbers and its range was spreading. This was due to the increase in the numbers of deer, red and sika, as any animals that died on the hill or the "gralloch" left by stalkers were prime targets for these birds.
The relationship between deer stalker and raven is well known. When I was stalking on some 15,000 acres of hill north of Ullapool, it was the one bird that I would see or hear in winter. I used to get out of the vehicle and by the time I had reached the boat to begin the mile or so trip to the east end of the loch, I would hear the raven. The harsh croak told me it was there waiting for me to shoot a deer and, when I left the gralloch, within a few minutes it would be there taking its fill. It was almost as if it would greet me as soon as I started out.
As for early nesting, they will build their nests, more often than not refurbish an existing one, in January. The eggs can be laid in the first week in February. Few birds in the Highlands can match this apart from the golden eagle and possibly the heron.
Ravens are so widespread now that we regularly see them over our house a few miles south of Inverness. I am sure that many more fly over and I just accept them as being carrion or hooded crows, although if I look closely the long wedge shaped tail is a good identification point. However, if they do call it is an easy giveaway, as the harsh croak just typifies this bird and the sound always seems to carry some distance.
I like to see them at this time of the year as their acrobatic flights of their courtship display are something to be seen. They just seem to tumble over and over in the sky and then hurtle down, but just pulling up short of the moorland or cliff below. Most nests I used to see in the north-west were cliff nests and always difficult to examine, but they will occasionally nest in trees.
The best book on the raven is the monograph by Derek Ratcliffe, The Raven, in the renowned Poyser series that was published in 1997.
* The record of the week was an interesting one regarding red kites.
We tend to get used to seeing red kites in the Highlands but last week there was an entirely different slant on them and it just shows how things can be misunderstood.
I was stopped by a reader in Inverness and the talk, as so often happens, came round to what he had in his garden these days. He told me that he now often sees red kites over his garden, which is not surprising as he lives in a village near Inverness.
He then, in the same breath, went on to tell me that a few people in the village had lost their cats.
He then said: "Of course we all know what to blame, as the cats have disappeared as soon as the red kites started being frequent visitors to the strath."
I just stood there in disbelief and, as tactfully as I could, put him right over the diet of red kites. I am not sure I was convincing but I should imagine that the people in the village who he told must now think that red kites are to blame for killing and presumably eating domestic cats! The mind boggles.
