The sun is high in a clear blue sky. A fresh Southwesterly breeze pushes at our backs as we slip-slide our way across the kelp-strewn rocks of the causeway, negotiable only at low tide. We are heading out to a tidal island to shift cows back to their home farm. This surely is a fine afternoon to be out and I am very pleased to have been asked to help. 

With the cattle gathered up, two of us head back across the causeway, sixty cows following obediently behind us. Once on the road the more boisterous cows think they should be in the lead – they know where they are going better than I do – and I tell them off but wonder what I am supposed to do if they really make a break for it. Twenty years ago I had a job droving cattle in Australia. We worked using horses, motorbikes and a helicopter. Now, walking along on foot, I feel vulnerable and I can’t see why these cows should obey me.

Two hours later we have successfully made our way along the coast road and herded the cattle in to their new field. Throughout the walk I have had glorious views across the sea to other islands. I have had the wind and sun in my face. I have had the sights and sounds of Curlew, Redshank, Lapwing and Oystercatcher feeding in the fields and flitting along the sand dunes. I feel steeped in the beauty and tranquillity of this place. I am also hot, tired, hungry and very thirsty. We head back to the farmer’s home where I am given food, beer and my children back. 

I am still fairly ignorant of the wildlife here and haven’t yet found time to don binoculars and look around. The closest I have come to birdlife so far was the morning I opened the front door to find a young Fulmar on our doorstep. It looked quizzically at me, head tilted, then turned and walked away. I was obviously not what it had hoped for. It hung around the yard for two days and I thought it must be injured but could not catch it to get a closer look. On day three it took off, flying without trouble and looking perfectly healthy, and headed for the coast. 

The head teacher tells me that they have had ducks nesting in the middle of the playground (deftly dodging footballs until six ducklings hatched out) not to mention the one found running up the main corridor, the janitor and a parent in hot pursuit.  A herd of cows once strayed in to the playground. A neighbour tells of the Puffin who ran into his house seeking refuge from a cat. 

I have been advised to keep the hens shut in at night, not because of foxes, which are absent from this island, but in case any of the island’s otters come looking for food. We see seals every time we go to the beach and they swim towards us, curious rather than scared. Skeins of geese fly overhead and land in the fields to feed. When driving anywhere, one must allow time for the possibility of travelling in first gear behind a herd of cattle or flock of sheep for a while. The close proximity of animals – both wild and farmed – is a part of life here.

©Julia Welstead