Menoturals; Eider This, or Eider That

It's that wonderful one day of the month when the LLB Gang's Nature Friday coincides with my own Final Friday Feature!

Today I want to share a little about the Common Eider, the world's second-largest duck. (The Muscovy takes the overall title.)

For anyone who has seen and experienced the presence of the Eiders, it's hard to forget them! I adore them, and here on the Clyde, they are permanent residents, although it is only now, as we build up to breeding season, that the flocks start to gather on the shore and display behaviours emerge. I captured this short video a few days back, as three females (the darker ones) drew the attention of a larger group of males. I missed the really big diving session, but the females (literally) ducked under, and the males, in synchronous fabulosity, followed them. They all emerged just before I got the camera working, so you are seeing the aftermath of that spectacle, but still a little of the fluttering and muttering...

That's a relatively small group; what you cannot see here is the much greater number that were in the bay. The almost constant flapping of the wings is less about males seeking to impress females and more about showing prowess to other males as they compare and compete for the right to mate.

Eiders tend to live their entire lives hugging the coastline, occasionally extending into more pelagic regions, and can fly up to 50 mph. The courtship display indicated in the video is actually quite early, as the season generally begins in November and goes on all the way through to spring... but hey, who puts boundaries on flirtation, eh?!

Nests are made on the ground and lined with down feathers, plucked from the female’s own breast.  The clutch can be anything up to eight eggs. A month passes before the chicks hatch. The female doesn’t feed while on the nest and may lose 30% of her body weight in this time. Note: the males take no part in rearing or caring for the offspring... The Gulls have one over them on that score!!! Ducklings take to the water within 48 hours of hatching. They are at their most vulnerable at this time, and they group together in creches supervised by mother ducks. Other females (called aunties) join the creches to help warn and protect them against predators. The ducklings learn to feed themselves pretty quickly.

Their large feet and strong muscles allow eiders to dive or swim to a depth of 10 metres. Their main food source is shellfish, particularly mussels, which occasionally causes issues where mussels are farmed.

One thing I adore when watching the eider flotillas is listening to their chatter. A lot of their calls are like hearing human voices from the other shore...

(If you enjoyed listening to that, you can hear a whole range of different Eider sounds on this page...)

Many of you may be familiar with the traditional bedding material eiderdown and may even call your duvets by that name, even if they aren't actually filled with feathers. It may interest you to know that, unlike common goose or duck down—which is historically and currently obtained as a byproduct of the meat industry—true eiderdown relies on a unique, ancient relationship between humans and wild Common Eider. During the nesting season, female Eider naturally experience hormonal changes that loosen the feathers on their breasts. They pluck this ultra-soft down themselves to line their nests and keep their eggs warm. For over a thousand years in places like Iceland and Norway, coastal farmers have built sanctuaries and shelters to protect the wild ducks from predators like foxes and gulls. As the birds return to the same human-guarded spots every year, farmers can gently swap out some of the down with dry hay while the duck is incubating, or wait until the end of the season, when the ducks abandon the nests to head back to sea. Because the birds are never captured, plucked alive, or slaughtered for their feathers, eiderdown remains one of the world's oldest entirely sustainable and ethical wildlife harvests.

I hope you enjoyed that little tale of a fantastic duck... and to end this post, I will link to this delightful photo essay of Alpine Alpacas - go on, it'll make you smile!