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It wasn't quite what I'd planned for Monday morning. But at 0500 this morning, the alarm went off, waking just about everyone but me. A sharp jab in the ribs did the trick though. By 0530 I was in the landrover, it was pitch black outside, the rain was tipping down and I was wondering what on earth I was doing. The plan was to do two live interviews on GMTV at 0650 and 0810, primarily about the claims from a few crofters in Gairloch in the NW Highlands of "substantial" lamb losses to sea eagles. The crew had been out and about around Mull yesterday filming sea eagles (or were they buzzards?) and chatting to a few local farmers. They wanted the live segment this morning to sum it all up and to find a way forward (some hope!) in advance of a public meeting planned in Poolewe tonight.

Just as I turned off the main road and down to Duart Castle - the scenic backdrop the GMTV crew had planned, my windscreen wipers packed in. I wasn't exactly at my most relaxed as it was but for this to happen now in a torrential downpour was a nightmare. I waited a few minutes, the clock ticking ever closer; the rain eased and I carried on, the first hint of light grey appearing in the eastern sky. There ahead was the huge satellite truck (I wondered if they could pick up signals from Mara and Breagha - or even Nethy and Deshar?). Ahead of that was the vehicle with the presenter Claire, soundman and cameraman. I never cease to be amazed at the length TV crews will go to getting a story. I mean, the expense of getting everyone over here, for a live link - all for a sea  eagle story? I arrived with plenty of time for a rehearsal - although the actual live link bore little resemblance to it!

At both 0650 and 0810 (usually the PM's slot I was told), I had about 90 seconds to get across that the claims that a 5kg sea eagle could lift a 35kg well-grown lamb was a biological, physical impossibility; that with hill farming in crisis and tourism generally down this year, we should be working together to turn this issue around (whatever the truth of it) not fighting about it and that here on Mull, we do our best to ensure that sea eagles are increasingly seen as an asset (by most) rather than a problem. You don't have to like sea eagles to realise that they are now a major tourism attraction bringing in about £2 million a year to the local Mull economy. The income from visitors to the hide (about £10,000 a year) is all spent locally with at least 50% going back to local good causes as small grants so that everyone (from the Girl Guides to the Young Musicians to the school sports day to Mull Young Athletes to Mull Senior Citizen Lunch Clubs to the Salen Church rennovation) benefits from sea eagle money. That way, love 'em or hate 'em (and some still do) at least they're paying their way.

Whether I succeeded or not in the 90 second sound bites is anyone's guess as I've still not seen it and despite being told it has an audience of 6 million at that time of the morning, I've not yet heard from anyone who watched it (apart from my loyal family of course who all said daddy was great!) Oh well, that will do for me.

Whatever the outcome of the public meeting tonight, let's all hope that a sensible way forward is forthcoming. Farmers here, as elsewhere, do a huge amount of good for the natural environment. Their cattle and sheep graze to produce important habitats and wetlands for waders and geese, their hay, crops and silage supports corncrakes and the outdoor winter feeding of livestock supports farmland finches and choughs. And many have golden and sea eagles on their land too which are enjoyed by thousands of visitors. The new Rural Development payments across Scotland should support such stewardship and RSPB is working hard to make that happen. As I said, it shouldn't be about the never ending circular arguments about eagle and lambs, how many lambs were sick, dead or healthy. That debate was going on here over 100 years ago. We all know the end result of that. Surely the debate has matured since then? Well at least one thing has changed for the better and that is that public opinion is now firmly and overwhelmingly in favour of having magnificent birds like golden and sea eagles in our landscape. It should be about mature solutions and positive management payments for those that look after them and manage land for them on our behalf.

Live TV has a way of draining you of nervous energy so it's time for bed. I'm away for the next two nights, with no access to a computer (hooray!) so no updates I'm afraid but fear not, normal service will be resumed. In the meantime, I join you in wishing poor Deshar fair weather and all the luck in the world for a safe landing, wherever that may be and hoping that Nethy at least is on the right track. Farewell.

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer

2120hrs

Okay, I confess, I've not been to Loch Frisa today. It was family time, a bit of gardening, sorting the pond and getting the firewood in the woodshed. I guess we all prepare for seasons in different ways. But for the autumn and winter ahead, the birds in the garden were doing their fair share of stocking up. Bullfinches were on the rose hips, chaffinches were, well, everywhere and a buzzard was hunting voles out in the field.

But despite attempts to have a day off, we were still visited mid afternoon unexpectedly by a roving GMTV film crew who were interested in finding out more about sea eagles on Mull after the various and surprising claims of lamb losses emerging from further north in Scotland in recent weeks. We'll see how that turns out tomorrow.

For now though, our Loch Frisa twins are fine and hopefully tomorrow I may even catch a glimpse of them with my own eyes and not just via sat tag data on a computer screen!

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer

For most of today, the weather on Mull has not been at all conducive to finding eagles. However, all the latest satellite data shows that both Mara and Breagha are fine and continue to spend most of their time on the south side of Loch Frisa. Mara continues to be the more active according to the data which had me a little worried about Breagha. However, whenever I've seen them both together, there is no difference in their apparent levels of fitness or flying prowess. I asked Roy Dennis of the 'Highland Foundation for Wildlife' who helped us fit the tags why the data seems to show Mara as the more adventurous.

He believes one possible reason is that, as the bigger bird, the satellite tag may be deeper in her plummage and therefore covered by Breagha's feathers more often. This means that the miniature solar panel is getting less charge so the data is less precise. We hope this will sort itself out in the weeks ahead. The more they fly, the more exposed the tag is to the sun and the better the detail of the data. The grey weather of late won't have helped either. By late evening though there was blue sky at last and a wonderful sunset in between the numerous rainbows over Salen bay.

It was a high tide tonight which had nudged most of the common seals off their favourite haul out but we did just glimpse two otters near the old boats on our way to Tobermory. I hope it's the mum and her cub as we had an otter killed on the road there just last week which we think may have been her well grown cub from last year. We'll keep watching and hoping that mum and this year's young cub are okay. Tomorrow looks to be a brighter day so we'll see what that brings. For now, all seems well with our sea eagle family, so rest easy.

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer

2220hrs

At some point I must have wandered back from the phone box to Eastcroft. The team were exhausted but couldn't sleep. We began to prepare ourselves mentally for what had probably happened out on the loch today. And we began to prepare how we were going to explain it to the waiting conservation world. There was little sleep for anyone. We just longed for the dawn to come. Some morning light so we could survey the scene again, just to be sure.

At the junction we split up. One team to the south side of the loch and I headed for the north shore, just above the nest wood. It was a horrible walk in, across tussocky Molinia terrain, forestry ditches and bog. I got there within the hour and sat on the rocky outcrop. After getting my breath back I raised my binoculars and started to scan, far and wide, across the loch, down below to the water's edge (half dreading what I'd find), anywhere, everywhere. Nothing. I could see the others arriving on the far side, clambering out, setting up tripods and telescopes. We made contact on the walkie-talkies, channel 9: "Anything yet?" "No - nothing..." The radio clicked off.

It's bizarre what you remember about such occasions. Despite the deepening gloom we all felt inside, I remember it was the most stunningly beautiful mid-summer day . Curlews nesting on the moor were calling their liquid, cascading, bubbly flight song; the occasional high pitched peep of golden plovers drifted over on the breeze. A pair of ravens criss-crossed the glen, their amazing aerobatics normally so impressive - but not today. Two long hours later, we had all but given up hope. Every few minutes, we'd checked in on the radio. Desperately wishing for positive news, anything to give us a glimmer of hope. "Hi guys, anything from your side?" "We'll call you if we see anything - over and out". Messages were short. Nerves were frayed. Tempers on the edge. It was probably time to call it a day.

My eye caught a movement over the wood. It was Blondie, circling low over the tops of the trees. Then there was the male. The pair of them together - but alone. They slowly gained height. That's it, I thought. Game over. With that, Blondie closed her wings, legs down and stooped earthwards, closely followed by the male. I stayed with them as best I could but lost them both as they dipped below the ridge. Had they spotted something?

I daren't try the radio again. I knew what the response would be. It was another very long 30 minutes before the radio crackled again: "Dave? I've got him! I've got the chick!"  I couldn't see him. I didn't need to. He was alive, sitting on the edge of the loch with both parents nearby. He must have struggled ashore, out of our gaze, as the light fell last night. 

There would be many more adventures, many more highs and many more lows with these birds over the coming years. But at that moment, only one thing mattered. The chick - our precious chick -was alive! I just switched off the radio, listened to the curlews and lay back in the sun. Then I found myself quite overwhelmed with it all and unexpectedly in tears - probably from both exhaustion and relief. I quickly looked around, hoping no-one was watching. Of course nobody was. Far below me sat the historic sea eagle family, oblivious to all the heartache they'd caused. And not for the last time, they'd caused our emotions to go from rock bottom to sky high. This life with eagles was going to be a rollercoaster. With that I think I fell asleep in the heather, completely drained - but very, very happy.

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer

2135hrs

It really had been the most extraordinary summer. We had been watching history unfold. Finally, after ten long years of waiting, the first pair of white-tailed eagles to nest in the wild in the UK had produced a chick. So much effort had been invested in this very important eaglet. It had been 70 years since white-tailed eagles had last nested here. This was the moment everyone had been working towards. Blondie and her mate had in fact hatched two chicks but one had died unexpectedly at four weeks old. That had been a huge blow for us. Now we were down to one. There was no room for error. We couldn't let anything go wrong. Please don't let anything go wrong.

We were still on 24 hour protection duties. The nest, the adults, the chick were never out of our sight. We camped nearby at night, listening out in the half darkness of the short June nights for any disturbance. Any crack of a branch or a call from Blondie to suggest something was wrong. Sometimes it was a deer or a sheep which had us straining our ears and eyes. Then the panic would pass. There were times when you wondered if you were losing your marbles. I made good friends with a very cheeky wood mouse who I shared my sandwich with. He repaid me by chewing a huge hole in my back pack to get at the remains of my rations which were meant to last me all night and half the next day. And I thought we were friends. I thought I meant something to him. Never again!

At night, we wouldn't realise that we were being eaten alive by clouds, swarms of midges - until morning came and the next person on duty would come to do their 36 hour shift and say 'what happened to your face?'. Back home in the mirror you could see one big, red puffy face where the midges had been working away, biting, all night long. You would pick off countless ticks from every part of your anatomy - always a joy. And then you would sleep, eat, dry out (a bit) and then head back to the observation tent for the next shift. We must have been mad. And so it had gone on for twelve long weeks - three long months - in the wettest, most miserable summer anyone could ever remember. But we were working to one goal, one aim. We wanted that first chick in living memory to take to the skies.

And so that dawn finally arrived. A quick check through the telescope and there he was. Flapping hard on the nest, jumping up and down. Can't be long now. Five minutes - literally five mintes later and another check. He was gone! We'd missed it. After being glued to that eyepiece for 90 wet, midge-infested, tick-ridden days since the hatch, we'd missed it. How could he do that to us! But he wouldn't have gone far, probably down onto the woodland floor. Yes there he was, sitting startled and wary on the ground wondering what to do next. But history had been made. The first chick of this historic reintroduction project which had started ten long years ago on the Isle of Rum had just 'flown' from his nest on the Isle of Mull. Surely it was time to celebrate? Hadn't we all deserved it? Well, not quite yet...

I hoped he would just sit and regain his confidence before trying anything else. Blondie and her mate were sitting nearby. What a moment it was for them too. Oh to know what was going on in their heads! But he wasn't done yet. He was a pioneer after all. As we watched, feeling very pleased with ourselves, he launched off again, straight out of the wood and away out over the loch. A bit wobbly but strong enough. Damn it! Out of sight. Too many trees in the way. He'll reappear in a minute. Two minutes passed but he didn't reappear. He must have reached the other side by now. Better go and check. We eased our way down the wet, grassy slope to a better vantage point and scanned the far shore. Keep scanning, he'll be there somewhere. Even Blondie and her mate were excited by this momentous flight. Both were out and calling loudly over the loch. Bit strange, I remember thinking.

Then came those awful, horrible, dread-inducing words which will live with me forever: "What's that in the loch? Do you get seals this far up?"  Seals? What was he talking about. Seals? Where?  "There -  in the middle of the loch. Look, there!" The head of some creature kept appearing and disappearing in the waves. With a rising sense of complete and utter panic, the terrible truth dawned on me, not gradually but with one sickening gut-wrenching bolt of realisation. Our chick - the only chick - had ditched in the very centre of the huge loch. The chick we'd watched over day and night, fretted over through wind and rain was struggling and virtually submerged hundreds of metres out in the cold, grey waters. Running and stumbling down the steep rocky slope, we half fell down into the shallows at the loch edge. Through steamed up binoculars and out of breath, we searched for any sign of life. All that was visible and audible was Blondie and the male circling low over the water, calling out in desperation as they too searched and searched. Up and down, round in circles they went. But the loch was now still. The waves had eased. We were drained, shaking and in shock. This just cannot be happening. It just cannot be happening.

By now it was virtually dark. We had stood staring into the gathering dusk for what seemed like hours, unable to think or act. We had to go home. I had been due to 'phone into the RSPB office that evening to report on progress. Everyone was waiting, desperate to hear news of the fledging. I stood outside the village phone box unable to make that call. Although there were lights on in houses all around, with TV screens flickering, the occasional person's voice or a dog's bark, it was a very lonely and desolate place to be at that moment.

Tomorrow - the search resumes at dawn

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer

2145hrs

Just a short one tonight...please see answers under 'Comments' to various queries some of you have raised recently back at 'They raise us up' from yesterday.

What a great surprise though...I could hear the hooves of a horse getting closer and closer. Before I could work out which direction the sound was coming from, I heard a familiar bark. Hurtling round the corner of the track, at top speed, came Bonnie, the Jack Russell rescued from near certain death a few weeks back (see 'It's a dog's life' blog). It was great to see her out and about again and following her owner on her horse. You can't keep a Jack Russell couped up for long - no matter how hard you try. It's just not what they do. And the obvious delight for Bonnie at being able to rush about through the brambles and bracken chasing rabbits and mink was clear to see. Will she go AWOL again? Possibly. Will someone be there again to find her? Hopefully. Will she be a happy dog? Absolutely - no doubt about it! She looked great - clean and all her proper weight back on. Almost unrecognisable from the skinny, frantic, desperate dog in that underground tomb. Fantastic.

And did she show me any gratitude? I knelt down, arms out as she rushed headlong towards me - and of course straight passed me without a backward glance and off down the track towards home! Ah well, at least this time she was heading in the right direction.

Although I've not been able to set eyes on Mara and Breagha for the last two days, the latest satellite data shows that they're both fine and still spending much of the time on their favourite hill. With this lovely mild, settled autumnal weather, they'll be enjoying the calm before the storm.

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer

2100hrs

We said farewell to a good friend of Mull Eagle Watch today. In all types of weather, from the start of incubation to the much longed for hatch, Duncan and Susan would be there on their eagle watch duties. They have been there since the beginning of this amazing project and Frisa and Skye and all their chicks have a lot to thank them for. And yet, for Duncan and Susan, as for all of us, the eagles give so much back.

We all marvel at their flight, whether soaring against blue skies or battling against winter storms. We admire the tender care for their chicks - that amazing cleaver of a beak, slicing tiny morsels of food for tiny eaglets. We respect their faithfulness to each other from one year to the next, from one decade to the next. And we sometimes dream what it must be like to be up there with them, soaring over mountain peaks and gazing to the distant horizons.

For many of us who help on the Mull Eagle Watch project each year, we feel like we're giving something back to the natural world that we take so much from during the course of our lives. For some, it's a couple of hours of peace and quiet in a beautiful place watching stunning birds; for others it's a chance to re-connect with nature and a great excuse to have a walk with the dog. For others it's just an extraordinary privilege to do something constructive and positive for a rare and threatened species. Maybe it's all of these things at different times. Whatever the reason, for volunteers like Duncan and Susan who work to protect our white-tailed eagles every year, come together in this unique way to safeguard the future of this remarkable bird for the generations to come. The fact that Mara and Breagha are flying  wild and free today is a fine legacy.

Remembering and thanking Duncan Hall.

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer

The title of that old McFadden and Whitehead 70's classic seemed very apt today and the words weren't far off the mark either. If you don't know the tune, go on to YouTube and search for it, it'll bring it all back - a blast from the past! The words just summed it up for Mara and Breagha today. There really was no stopping them now.

In warm, sometimes hot sunshine, the pair of them were up and soaring above Crannich. Higher and higher, sometimes drifting apart then back together. They were loving it!  At times, with the back drop of Ben More I thought this is it, they're going to go. They really are on the move.

And then, the best sign yet that they are growing up, gaining in confidence and will soon be on their way. Mara was being shadowed by a raven, every turn, every which way, the raven was on his tail. But suddenly with the flip of a wing, Mara turned the table on the raven and this time it was Mara chasing the big, pestering corvid. The raven wasn't expecting this. It lasted only a few seconds before they went their separate ways but it showed the first signs that the hunted could and would soon become the hunter. We do find raven and crow in sea eagle nests as prey. One day soon, Mara would prove who was really in charge of the skies and the ravens would think twice from now on before annoying him. As I drove back along the track feeling excited for the chicks about what adventures lay ahead for them, what should come on Radio 2? I turned up the volume at full blast and headed for home - go on have a listen!

"There've been so many things that have held us down. But now it looks like things are finally comin' around. I know we've got a long, long way to go. And where we'll end up, I don't know. But we won't let nothing hold us back. We gonna get ourselves together. We gonna polish up our act. And if you've ever been held down before, I know that you refuse to be held down anymore. Don't you let nothing, nothing, nothing stand in your way. And all we gonna do. I want you to listen, listen that's right. To every word I say. Every word I say about it. Ain't no stoppin' us now. We're on the move!"

Normal service will be resumed...

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer

2130hrs

I can see her now. I was hiking through a glen on Mull when two huge dark birds caught my eye over the far ridge. Two immature sea eagles were soaring along the ridge. Often with their legs down they looked like hang gliders drifting back and forth. One was bigger then the other. I'd stumbled across a young pair (at that time, it was the only pair) and they looked to my inexperienced eye to be prospecting a potential nest site. The female of that young pair, although I didn't know it at the time, was set to become one of the most famous sea eagles of all time. With her faithful mate beside her, they would go on to raise the first wild bred sea eagle chick in Scotland for some 70 years.

Fast forward five years. It was 1985. By now this pioneering pair were full adults and the female was particularly striking. He pale sandy head just gleamed in the sunlight; her eyes and beak a rich yellow and her white tail just dazzled as she soared over that same wood I'd seen her as a youngster over all those years before. She quickly became known as Blondie and as the years passed, that pale blonde plumage extended further down her back and her front. Anyone who was lucky enough to encounter her, friend or foe, couldn't help but comment on her stunning appearance. A year earlier this pair had unsuccessfully tried to breed nearby but their single infertile egg never hatched. The male just wasn't old enough. But this was to be their year. The story of that first historic chick and the terrifying adventure that overtook him on his maiden flight will live with me forever and may well be a blog in its own right in the weeks to come. For now though I just wanted to pay tribute to Blondie.

She had been taken from her nest in Norway as an unfledged chick as part of phase one of the reintroduction project. She was released on the Isle of Rum a few weeks later but quickly found her way to Mull which would become her home for the rest of her long life. She paired up and for the next 20 years, she would become the mother of many young sea eagles, some of which - like Frisa hatched by Blondie in 1992 - are still with us and breeding successfully today. She was a true pioneer in every sense of the word and it is no exaggeration to say that without her and her mate's productivity, the whole sea eagle reintroduction project would not be the success it is today.

For me as a young RSPB warden watching her way back then in those momentous times, she would always hold a very special place in my heart. I used to love watching her sitting in her favourite dead oak tree at the front of the nest wood. She would have been incubating eggs or brooding chicks all night and then would be relieved by her mate at dawn. She'd fly from the nest to the tree and sit in the early light, preening and occasionally calling back to her mate on the nest. As the first rays of the morning sun peaked over the hills and shone straight at her like a spotlight, she looked amazing - her head at times looking almost as white as a bald eagle.

In 2000, I'd watched her at that year's nest. She'd just hatched her latest chick and was brooding it carefully - as she'd always done. It was always a great comfort to see her each time I visited Mull. It really was like visiting an old friend. As I turned away to continue my walk, I couldn't know it would be the last time I'd ever see her. A week later I was called by the RSPB Mull Officer at that time to say that Blondie was missing, presumed dead. He thought I should know. One day she just hadn't returned from her hunting trip. Her mate had carried on brooding their chick as long as he could before he too was forced to leave to feed himself and get food for the chick. He valiantly kept this going for a few days and got some help from us too by leaving food out that he could find easily and quickly. But he couldn't do everything and during a spell of wet, cold spring weather, Blondie's last chick succumbed to the elements. After a few days, his lonely vigil was at an end and he eventually drifted away from the nest and spent his days searching for Blondie. He would often sit nearby and just call and call - but there was to be no answer. She was found many weeks later, high on the hill, lying in the heather. It was too late to carry out any tests to determine what had happened to her on that fateful hunting trip but we suspect she'd been the target of another eagle attack - perhaps by a neighbouring sea eagle or golden eagle whose territory she accidentally strayed into. We would never know. But what a fabulous, wild, free and productive life she'd had. We all owe her a great debt and I will never forget her.

In the autumn I went back to the original nest wood where Blondie and her mate had reared that first chick 15 years previously. The place they'd courted and built their early nests. I hadn't seen them there for many years but I thought I'd scan across the loch anyway, just out of habit. The image that filled my binoculars momentarily took my breath away. There, sitting on Blondie's favourite oak, was her mate. He looked content enough and was preening in the soft, fall sunshine, just as she always used to. Often they'd sit there together. On this October day with the bellowing of the stags echoing round the hills, he had come back to look one last time. Perhaps he thought he'd find her there. Perhaps I did too.

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer

2215hrs

(And I don't just mean the return of Brucie tonight)

Today dawned much like yesterday but by early afternoon, things had started to improve. Slowly but surely, in from the west came some blue sky. The rain ceased, the waters of Salen bay were still and mirror-like and the sun eased out from behind the clouds. At last!

I think the landrover is on auto-pilot at the moment. I headed straight for the north shore of Loch Frisa, up to the highest point in the track and stopped to scan the opposite shore of the loch. Low whispy clouds were clearing from the glen, spider webs covered every available piece of vegetation and there was Frisa sitting on a grassy knoll. She looked superb - her heraldic pose with wings stretched out in the sun was breathtaking.

A scan to the north and there was Mara soaring over the standing stones, his favourite area. He had 5 kestrels, 2 ravens, 3 hoodie crows and 4 buzzards for company but they gave him little trouble. I think they were all just relieved to be soaring in the sunshine. I sat and scanned, hoping Breagha might join them but no luck. Surely she was okay. As many of you pointed out, Frisa had only given her the eagle equivalent of a cuff round the ears. But the fact was, I couldn't find her.

As I concentrated on Mara, he eventually broke away from his flock of admirers and drifted purposefully to the south. I followed his line of flight and then I saw where he was headed. There was Breagha gaining height over the mound where she'd received her severe reprimand. Brother and sister soared together for a good 20 minutes, occasionally stooping on each other and then eventually drifting apart. They seem to be spending a little less time together now. When once they would follow each other all day, they are now more confident to be alone and to do their own thing. If anything it's Breagha who tags along with her little brother but he usually can't wait to get away. Below them, Frisa watched her offspring high above, clearly  gaining in confidence by the day. The disagreements of recent days were long forgotten. Skye, I imagine, was off hunting, leaving Frisa back at home to keep an eye on things.

As Mara went one way and Breagha went the other, I wondered how often their paths would cross in the years to come and if there would be even the slightest hint of recognition if they met up again? But at the current rate, Mara will not be able to shake off his big sis. With Mara leading the way on any journey from Mull, Breagha will probably not be too far behind. Perhaps it's a good thing if they keep an eye on each other, for the time being at least.

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer

2203 hrs

There are Mull days that are made for eagles and there are Mull days that are not. Today was not the day to be an eagle. The low cloud didn't clear all day and the endless drizzle was, well, endless. On days like this one of the few productive things to be achieved is to catch up on essential admin tasks, the long lists of e-mails, 'phone messages and the various end of season reports. But all the time, you're looking out of the window, hoping for a break in the clouds which will signal an excuse to head for the hills. Today that break never came.

With my door open (to let my resident office robin in for a few biscuit crumbs) I usually have a good view across Salen bay to the distant hills and even on some days as far as Ben Hiant on Ardnamurchan. But not today - I could scarcely even make out the bay. Usually the seals are hauled out on the rocks but they were all obscured in the mist. I also can listen to the alarm calls of chaffinches signalling the presence of a sparrowhawk in the neighbourhood or the calls of the herring gulls which change in intensity when a sea eagle flies overhead. Nothing much was on the move today. But my robin fed well!

In between e-mails and 'phone calls, I thought of what had happened to Breagha yesterday. Was she ok? Had she made it to a safe roost last night? Sadly there was no satellite tagging data received either today so the fact is I just don't know. I can only hope that her severe telling off by Frisa was simply a lesson learned and nothing worse. But that image of her, head down, wings drooped, alone on the hill was not a comforting one.

The forecast isn't much better for tomorrow but you can never really tell what it's going to be like until dawn. I'll take stock in the morning and if there's any visibility to the hills, I'll be there searching. I'm sure if we all think positively, I'll be able to report better news tomorrow.

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer

2200hrs

I made my decision. If Mara had tolerated me arriving in the landrover, getting out, shutting the door and walking right beneath him and out into the field, maybe, just maybe, he'd put up with me doing it all in reverse. With minutes to spare before the crew arrived, I retraced my steps taking care not to look directly at Mara as if I'd never noticed him. I got to the landrover, started her up and drove up the track to meet the cars arriving. It worked! Mara stayed put. As quickly as they could, Gordon and the crew got cameras out, onto tripods and ready to roll - just as Mara decided he'd waited long enough for the show to start and took off, flying straight towards and over us. Gordon was thrilled to see the chicks he'd helped tag so close again but this time time flying like proper eagles. He could see it was all working as we'd hoped it would. But were the crew ready for this close fly-by? We'll all have to tune into Autumnwatch to find out. 

Later I found both chicks and Frisa sitting together on their favourite mound. It looked, from a distance, like a happy family unit. But, as I was about to witness, looks can be deceptive. I could see both chicks opening and closing their beaks, clearly still food begging from their long-suffering mother. Occasionally their incessant calls were carried on the wind in my direction. I could almost imagine how annoying that might become if you heard it from dawn to dusk.

Suddenly, without warning, Frisa lunged at one of the chicks. In the confusion, I couldn't be sure who it was but I suspected it was Breagha. I thought it would be a quick warning to her to give the calling a break. But it was more serious than that. Frisa pinned her to the ground. Talons were locked together. Breagha was on her back with the full might of Frisa bearing down on her. It's behaviour I've never seen before. These family units are usually so tolerant but something had snapped inside Frisa and enough was enough. It can only have lasted a few seconds but in that time I heard myself saying: 'Ok Frisa, she's got the message. That's all you have to do, Let her go!' I couldn't bear to think of what might happen next if she didn't let go.

All this time, Mara was sitting next to this startling clash of his mother and sister. He was still calling. Frisa must have realised that she'd done what she needed to do, released her grip and flew off a short way. Breagha was clearly stunned by this turn of events. Was this Frisa's way of telling her offspring that it was time they started fending more for themselves? Was this eagle-speak for 'stop going on at me all the time'? Whatever it was, something irreversible had happened. All of us, the eagles and me, were in a slight state of shock. I just hoped Breagha wasn't injured in this clash. Maybe it had looked worse from a distance than it actually was. But as Frisa flew off and out of sight, soon followed by Mara leaving Breagha behind in a hunched, dejected state, I began to wonder.

By this time it was late and dusk was falling. For one young eagle, today was a turning point. A very tough lesson had been learned. Nothing could ever be quite the same again.

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer

18 September 2145hrs

That thin ridge of high pressure has just nudged far enough in to the west coast of Scotland to at least give us a dry day and at times a few warm and sunny moments. I was at Loch Frisa first thing to try and locate the chicks for Gordon and co to film. The sat tag data told me late last night that they were on a hill to the south of the loch and the chances were they might still be there this morning. But some weird sixth sense made me drive straight passed the Glen Aros road junction which would have given us good views of that hill area and instead head up the hill towards the north shore of the loch. I'm glad I did! There was Breagha down by the loch edge where I'd seen both chicks having their first bath all those weeks ago and Mara was on the ridge by the lonely standing stones. It always sends a chill down the spine when I see them by those ancient stones. I can recall old Pictish stones from Orkney and Easter Ross with the unmistakable carving of a sea eagle on them - clearly they used to be held in such high esteem by ancient man and woman. And here was Mara reconnecting with that mysterious past. As I was musing what all that meant in the great scheme of things, he took off and flew east and out of sight. I called Gordon and the crew who were finishing their full Scottish breakfast in Tobermory and told them to get down here - fast!

The skies were just full of birds of prey. In that brief few minutes I watched several buzzards, three kestrels, a male hen harrier, a sparrowhawk racing along the edge of the forestry track and a distant young golden eagle. This was the first dry spell for a few days so they were just up and enjoying themselves. I was wondering where Mara might have gone to so headed back towards the hide. No sign of him or the crew (probably having another coffee).

Something else made me stop by the quarry and take a short walk out into the field. I remembered then that I needed new boots. The dew from the grass in the recently cut field soaked straight through my 'waterproof' boots. Great, I thought, wet, cold feet all day. I glanced back towards the landrover and could scarcely believe my eyes. There in the larches right above the vehicle and right next to the track sat Mara. I must have walked right underneath him and he'd have watched me the whole time. This was the closest I'd been to him since we fitted the satellite tags and it was the sort of shot the BBC NHU were desperate for. But still no sign of them! Now I had a dilemma. Did I walk back to the landrover and risk spooking him or did I stay where I was in the field? If I did that and Gordon's crew saw me, they'd stop, get out and mill about right beneath him, again without seeing him and that might spook him too! Needless to say there was no mobile 'phone reception for me to warn them. I was trapped! Unbelievable. We may never get this close again. It was as if Mara had shown up on cue for his starring role, only to find none of us quite ready. Suddenly there  were the crew, still a long way off but heading down the track towards us and getting closer by the second. I had to act now...

Will Mara win a Bafta for his performance or will this 'sequence' end up on the cutting room floor? Find out tomorrow!

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer 

17 September 2125hrs

Tuesday 16 September 2008. 2050hrs 

It's always comforting to see the chicks again. Despite today dawning wet and grey, it had cleared by lunch time and I headed for the hill where the last sat tag signals had come from. Much to my relief, there was Mara sitting on a rocky hillock with mum Frisa a few metres away. Minutes later in flew Breagha and almost landed on her brother. They looked in good condition, despite the weather; then Skye flew over with a full crop. Clearly they had all fed well.

It probably sounds crazy but at times like this, I can just relax and unwind in the knowledge that they are all well. I can sit for a few minutes, set up the telescope and focus on the birds. After all, that's what it's all about. I can have some quality time to study their behaviour, look at their plumage, watch the wind ruffling the feathers on their head and wonder what adventures will come their way over the autumn. At one point Mara stretched himself out in the heather and lay down. You could only just make out his head poking out of the purple haze. Every now and again, a fly or a bee buzzed around his head and he snapped his beak trying to catch it. Then he'd turn his head to one side and gaze skyward. If I followed his look, I'd invariably find a passing buzzard or raven or, on one occasion, a young golden eagle so high up it kept vanishing into the clouds.

These moments are special but will become increasingly scarce over the weeks ahead. That's why I have to make the most of them now. The days are already noticably shorter and by 7 o'clock this evening the light was going so I left them in peace. There was still enough light for them to find a safe roost for the night.

Earlier in the day, Gordon Buchanan and a BBC crew from 'Autumnwatch' had arrived on Mull to conclude the story of the chicks for this year's series in October. Ever optimistic, we hope tomorrow dawns bright and sunny and that we find the chicks again for them to film. I'd better go and watch the weather forecast. I'll let you know if we succeed tomorrow!

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer

One day she was with him. The next she was gone. When Electra the golden eagle suddenly disappeared from her mate's life after possibly decades together, one wonders what effect that has on the one that's left behind. They mate for life. Just like our sea eagle pair Frisa and Skye, the two golden eagles whose territory once covered the north end of Mull would have been close - often inseparable. Of course he would never have been able to comprehend his loss - but you do wonder what, if anything, he will have 'felt'. Suddenly, she wouldn't have been with him at their evening roost; she wouldn't have joined him at a kill to feast together and she wouldn't have been there to defend their territory against intruders.

I remember that autumn seeing him drifting on the wind along the cliff top. He was alone. Was he still searching the entire territory from one end to the other trying to locate her? It had been some months since she had vanished from his world. Little did he know how her life had been totally transformed after being wrenched from the wild in that freak accident - with scientific 'firsts', she'd become a global TV celebrity after her eye operation had been filmed and now she had a new companion in the form of Laggan, a male golden eagle many years her junior. For her loyal mate still on his endless search along the cliffs and through the glens, it must have been a lonely winter of confusion and uncertainty.

But then something good happened to him. This year, in early spring as the first primroses were appearing on the banks, I saw him again one sunny morning going through a strenuous territorial display, up and down in steep, almost vertical dives. He's living in hope I thought or maybe he's seen a neighbouring eagle and is showing he's still in charge of this lonely outpost. But as I watched, up from the cliff face soared a stunning new female golden eagle - just into adulthood. The old rogue - that's who he was displaying for! He had moved on from his isolation and it was a joy to see.

This territory had not successfully produced chicks for many years - perhaps a decade or more. We don't know why for sure but having seen old Electra up close it may simply have been that she was beyond her breeding age. Her accident, though terrible, had brought about change in this unproductive home range. Nature has a way of winning through.

In April this year I crawled on all fours through the forest to the small opening by the stone dyke and peered through the telescope at their old nest which had been built up and added to recently. Nothing at first but then a movement, a golden glint. The head of the new female incubating eggs on her nest! Fantastic. The first time for many years that this territory had got this far. They hatched the egg too this year but sadly the chick did not survive. It was their first time together and it happens. They are a pair now and will be there next year to try again. I think they'll make it next time. Out of despair, comes hope.

I'd hoped to bring you news of Mara and Breagha tonight but the cloud has been down all day and the drizzle has not ceased so I'm afraid I have no sightings to report. Strangely, Frisa and Skye were visible through the murk but no chicks - anywhere. I hope they're fine but as I write there is that small nagging doubt. It's that time of year when, at any time, one or both of them could decide to leave. I'm not sure they're ready for that moment yet. And I'm not sure I am either.

Dave Sexton RSPB Scotland Mull Officer