I’ve just returned from a couple of weeks on the Shetland Islands. Lying in deep waters a 12-hour ferry ride from Aberdeen, these islands are the most northerly outpost of Britain, closer to Norway and Iceland than they are to London. Their isolation, and the food-rich waters that surround them, mean that they are a wildlife haven, home to Europe’s greatest population of otters, as well as mountain hares, seals, visiting killer whales, and thousands of seabirds, as well as many birds seeking respite from Atlantic storms or a landfall on arduous migrations. Shetland’s position means that the days are long – so long that while the sun sets for a few hours, it never becomes truly dark – and this makes it a prime feeding ground for birds seeking insects to feed upon, including the one small bird that I was desperately hoping to find.
The red-necked phalarope, called “peerie deuck” or ‘little duck’ in Shetland dialect, lives up to its name. It is a truly tiny duck. At just 18cm long, it is only a little over a quarter of the length of a typical mallard. Slender and elegant, with a thin bill and long neck, this is an artist’s bird, designed with flowing curves. During the winter months it is a rather dull white and grey, but in its summer breeding plumage it is decked out in brown and ochre, and the owner of a fine band of orange running upwards from the chest, up the sides of the neck, and onto the back of the head. Although the world is not short of red-necked phalaropes (the global population is something like 3.5 million birds), it is a very rare bird in the UK, with the total UK breeding population varying between just 25 and 65 pairs. The majority of those breed on just one small Shetland Island: Fetlar. And it was to Fetlar that I went to see it.
The RSPB maintains reserves on Fetlar in areas where the red-necked phalarope is supposed to feed. But I met a long string of disappointed birders who had haunted these areas for days without any luck, so I was resigning myself to failure when a chance tip-off from a local sent me to the eastern end of a small beach. As suggested, I nestled myself down into the shelter of the large rocks lining the shore, and waited. There was a furious gale blowing, and I questioned why any small, fragile-looking bird would choose to feed here, on the foot-high waves, rather than on the calmer waters of the lakes and pools further inland. But despite its fragile appearance, the red-necked phalaropeis no flimsy bird. It is a robust and determined survivor, spending its winters far out to sea, with birds from Scotland tracked as far away as the eastern pacfic ocean.
After half an hour sitting uncomfortably in the cold and getting soaked by the passing squally showers, my doubts about the tip-off were growing when a small bird appeared in front of me. I hadn’t seen it fly in, and its sudden appearance added to the almost magical feel of the moment as I laid eyes on the red-necked phalarope.

It seem totally unconcerned by the waves, bobbing up and down in the manner (and of much the same size) as a bathtime rubber duck. It would disappear from view in the troughs of the waves, then bob back up on the peaks. It spent its entire time dabbing at the water with its bill, as if carefully selecting a small part of the sea to peck. In fact, it was plucking microscopic zooplankton from the surface. On shallow lakes, it often spins in a circle, creating a vortex that sucks small invertebrates up into the water for it to feed on. The turbulent sea was doing the work for it, bringing small shrimps and invertebrates up to the surface.
Shortly after the first phalarope arrived, a second joined it. Both had bright neck colours, which confirmed that both were female. Phalaropes are renowned for swapping the traditional gender roles over. The females are more brightly-cooured and chase the males. When they have mated, it is the male who incubates and hatches the eggs, while the female goes off, often to find another male to mate with. The females then abandon the males and leave them to raise their chicks alone, while they head off back to warmer climes, just one more example of how wonderfully varied life can be.
1 comments On The gender-bending peerie deuck
Marvellous! What a sweet little duck!
Comments are closed.