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The white stained cliffs of Boreray, filled with gannets and guano. Nowhere in the UK has more seabirds than the archipelago of St Kilda - with no land-based predators to eat their eggs and chicks, a range of habitats from cliff ledges to grassy slopes, surrounded by an ocean teeming with life - it’s no wonder that St Kilda is home to around a million seabirds during the summer months. It is highly likely that the first people on St Kilda followed the birds to their island home and settled there. Although they took thousands of eggs, they seem to have done so in a sustainable way with rules governing what areas and how many could be taken.
Today the birds on St Kilda are protected and it is recognised as one of the most important breeding areas in the North Atlantic. Sailing towards the remote island of Boreray, it is a true spectacle to witness first hand. The five foot gannet wingspan makes them look prehistoric, diving into the water at speeds of up to 90mph to grab fish - during the entry, they dislocate their wings to become as streamlined as possible. Flocks of them flying overhead on their daily commute is hard to comprehend on the choppy waters - an overload of sensory and visual stimulation that I tried to both capture with the camera and enjoy with my eyes. The combination of jagged cliffs, overwhelming bird numbers and constant noise nearly brings me to tears.
St Kilda - A remote set of islands, with double UNESCO World Heritage status, sitting 40 miles off the west coast of Scotland. Home to a million birds, this isolated archipelago was a joy to explore and photograph in the summer of 2019.
These images hark back to an ancient time, when humans relied on their natural neighbours to survive, with their only means of sustenance the birds that call the western edges home. A raw, harsh existence that became too much for the locals - abandoned by the final 36 islanders in 1930 - it is now a haven for birds, mammals and ocean dwellers.
A unique place that I documented over five days of walking, observing and absorbing all that these wild lands could throw at me.
Boreray
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Boreray
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The white stained cliffs of Boreray, filled with gannets and guano. Nowhere in the UK has more seabirds than the archipelago of St Kilda - with no land-based predators to eat their eggs and chicks, a range of habitats from cliff ledges to grassy slopes, surrounded by an ocean teeming with life - it’s no wonder that St Kilda is home to around a million seabirds during the summer months. It is highly likely that the first people on St Kilda followed the birds to their island home and settled there. Although they took thousands of eggs, they seem to have done so in a sustainable way with rules governing what areas and how many could be taken.
Today the birds on St Kilda are protected and it is recognised as one of the most important breeding areas in the North Atlantic. Sailing towards the remote island of Boreray, it is a true spectacle to witness first hand. The five foot gannet wingspan makes them look prehistoric, diving into the water at speeds of up to 90mph to grab fish - during the entry, they dislocate their wings to become as streamlined as possible. Flocks of them flying overhead on their daily commute is hard to comprehend on the choppy waters - an overload of sensory and visual stimulation that I tried to both capture with the camera and enjoy with my eyes. The combination of jagged cliffs, overwhelming bird numbers and constant noise nearly brings me to tears.
St Kilda - A remote set of islands, with double UNESCO World Heritage status, sitting 40 miles off the west coast of Scotland. Home to a million birds, this isolated archipelago was a joy to explore and photograph in the summer of 2019.
These images hark back to an ancient time, when humans relied on their natural neighbours to survive, with their only means of sustenance the birds that call the western edges home. A raw, harsh existence that became too much for the locals - abandoned by the final 36 islanders in 1930 - it is now a haven for birds, mammals and ocean dwellers.
A unique place that I documented over five days of walking, observing and absorbing all that these wild lands could throw at me.
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