A dark bird struts from the trees through powdery midwinter snow, its bulky form bowing and rearing. His fan tail is raised and the sharp, belching cry is a clear warning in the icy air. With eyes glittering in bright red surrounds, he is intimidating.
A few months later and spring is in the air. The capercaillie cock is still aggressive, but this time the target is rival male birds, and the cock’s sound is machine-gun staccato, like a football rattle. He clashes with another bird in a flurry of feathers, and the rival retreats. This is the lek, one of the Highlands’ greatest wildlife spectacles, in which cocks display for the right to mate with the hens.
It’s all wonderful to watch, but I can only describe what I see on YouTube. Despite countless visits over more than 40 years to the Cairngorms, heart of the capercaillie range, I have never seen one – and the chances of ever doing so are getting slimmer.
THE RISE AND FALL OF CAPERCAILLIES
The Highland capercaillies’ fortunes have waxed and waned through
