a day ago
I woke up to find hundreds of midges in my living room
And yet as I'm writing this, Coinneach is standing over the windowsill in our front room, hoover nozzle in hand, scooping up the hundreds of midges that have managed to breach our window nets overnight and have made our living room their final resting place.
Friday nights at the village square have been cut short a fair few times, when the midges decide they too want to join in the fun. The hardy locals who have experienced the clouds of bugs before simply light some incense sticks and have another glass of something to cope with the swarm. But for us city folk, I reckon it'll take a little while longer to build up a tolerance.
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They came early this year, deciding to emerge in April and demonstrate their full potential in the last week or so. It has made us wish for breezy afternoons - even at the expense of the ferries, which have seen their first cancellations this week since the summer timetable began.
But with the midges comes the arrival of some much cuter and far less annoying animals to Rum's landscape.
Last week, I spoke of the Manx Sheerwater and their burrows on the slopes of Hallival - I heard their cries for the first time on Wednesday when I found myself awake at 1am. Gutteral, croaking, terrifying. No wonder the vikings believed they were hearing trolls.
And while they protect their young on the mountains, the animals that remain closer to ground level have begun welcoming their babies, too.
In Kilmory to the north of the island, famed for its sandy beaches and incredible views over to the Black Cuillins on the Isle of Skye, researchers have settled in for a summer of studying the newborn red deer.
They come out with wobbly legs and Bambi-esque coats, and within the first few days of their lives, researchers will capture and tag them, take a few measurements and release them to the wild. They'll spend the next few months in close tandem to their mothers, making their first journeys around Rum's incredible nature reserve.
So far, the team has seen 30 calves, and managed to catch and tag 29 of them - one of them is Ekari25. Around one thousand red deer live on the island, and I'm beginning to understand their namesake. While in the winter their coats are a soft brown, they are now turning a vibrant maroon.
A newborn red deer (Image: Elle Duffy)
It's the world's longest running research study of a deer population, and even they, too, are plagued by Rum's infamous midges. The calm nights of the last week have made for a haven for the tiny pests, and Kilmory seems to bear the brunt of them. And selfishly, I don't mind too much if they want to settle far from the village.
Perhaps that's why we decided to seek shelter on the other side of the island for a rare day off together. On the ragged cliffs of Harris, there is what can only be described as a squad of goats meandering near to where Coinneach and I had set up a windy picnic of fruit and sandwiches. It's the first time I've ever seen a goat on Rum, and while some have impressive beards, there are two teeny kids in the mix, playfully jumping from rock to rock and running around the legs of their group.
Harris seemed to be putting on a show for us. There were the baby goats and their families, the Rum ponies were galloping towards where we were sitting near to the mausoleum, and the highland cows were sitting proudly, sensing the rain before it began to fall. On our way there, we saw a golden eagle being chased by what looked like two hooded crows - its mate soon joined the fight, and we lost them to the low hanging cloud. And yet at Harris, it's a raven who is the befallen, being dived upon by two noisy oystercatchers protecting their nearby nest.
Sitting here on the reserve, it's a wonder just how many new families are welcoming their young onto the island. The eagles on Barkeval, the goats at Harris, the deer at Kilmory. Even the ducks that plague my workplace have some fluffy chicks chirping by their feet. A beautiful ecosystem exists here, and the newborns are now a part of a truly magical part of the world.
But the midges? I'm not seeing the beauty in them just yet.
Elle Duffy is a former Herald journalist who is now living and writing from the Isle of Rum
