Want to see puffins? Then head to Scotland's wild Orkney Islands

The beckoning song of skylarks, oystercatchers and curlews radiates around the domed ceiling of cloudy sky, ricochetting off pillars of stone that have been struck by this oratorio for thousands of years. Either side, the steely waters of lochs Stenness and Harray swell in applause.

The Ring of Brodgar feels like a cathedral — sacred and foreboding. Dating back to the late Neolithic and early Bronze Age, it was once a circle of around 60 monoliths quarried from seven different sites across Orkney. Today, it’s a UNESCO World Heritage Site, surrounded by an RSPB nature reserve. A gull lands on one of the 36 stones still standing today, cocking its head at our small group.

“The surrounding area used to be farmland, but we’ve stripped it back for breeding waders and great yellow bumblebees,” says operations manager Sarah Sankey. “When we bought the land, we had no breeding curlew here, but there are now 15 pairs. It’s a lovely link through history that these birds would have been here in the Neolithic times. The birds we’re hearing now are what people would have heard 5,000 years ago.”

As our group circles the henge, I reach down to stroke the fluffy tufts of cottongrass and examine the vivid petals of marsh orchids. Overhead, a redshank calls, its urgent cheeps cutting through the air and answered by the soft, distant trill of meadow pipits drifting across the heather.

My attention is drawn from the birds’ animated chatter by what looks like a wooden tunnel, half-hidden in a ditch. It’s one of around 9,000 traps set by the Orkney Native Wildlife Project (ONWP) to eradicate stoats. These wily mustelids first appeared on the islands in 2010, wreaking havoc on local wildlife, including ground-nesting birds like hen harriers and short-eared owls.

“Stoats are only on five islands, but there are 65 more, so we need to move quickly,” Sarah explains the next day. We’ve met at the Mull Head Local Nature Reserve, a dramatic sweep of cliffs and heathland where seabirds wheel over the North Sea and wildflowers cling to the wind-scoured turf.

We stride along coastal paths edged in buttercups and cow parsley to meet scat detection dog Scout and his handler Allen on the Brough of Deerness. Scout is deployed, the promise of his favourite ball waiting while he gads between the grassy hillocks, 300 million scent receptors firing within an eager, twitching nose. Scout’s signal is unmistakable — he sits down, alert, gazing at some minute spot. Stoats have visited the area, hiding among the pink sea thrift and coastal bird nests.

Whether it’s ONWP experts, dog trainers, local volunteers or visitors like myself, conservation here carries an all-hands-on-deck spirit. On South Ronaldsay’s beach, with my back to the crashing waves, I stand in gale-force winds watching little terns tumble and dart like fighter pilots, black caps pulled tight as if braced against the storm. Not long ago, schoolchildren rallied to protect this breeding site, staking out the area, sketching posters and sweeping the sand for their arrival. Thanks to their efforts, these small seabirds are now thriving.

My final stop is Cottasgarth, a sprawling haven of heather moorland favoured by birds of prey such as kestrels and merlins. I settle down with binoculars in a hide and watch for the flutter of wings on the horizon. Neighbouring farmer Robbie Fraiser joins me, our conversation faltering as the see-sawing burble of a curlew ripples across the moor. Robbie tilts his head skywards. “Here, birdsong is constantly with you,” he says softly. “It’s not always about seeing them, it sits in with your body clock.”

It strikes me that the natural world doesn’t acknowledge our human concept of time. Moving through a landscape brimming with birdsong signifies a timelessness we yearn for. It’s a powerful reminder that life is cyclical — like the return of the birds each spring or a ring of standing stones.

(It's 'throw a baby puffin off a cliff' season in Iceland)

Birds to spot

1. Puffin
These charming little birds can be spotted on the steep cliffs at Marwick Head. A Red List species, the unmistakable puffin can be identified by its colourful bill, black and white feathers, orange legs and slightly bashful expression.

2. Little tern
Orkney has the most northerly population of these Amber List birds, endangered due to their vulnerable nesting sites. Keep an eye out for their distinctive yellow bill tipped in black and their dramatic aerial displays.

3. Curlew
These dappled wading birds provide the gently chattering soundtrack to Orkney. Easily identified by their long, curved beak and gangly legs, they can be found across Orkney’s moorlands and wetlands, including The Loons on Marwick.

4. Razorbill
Razorbills can often be found squabbling in rocky cliff nooks — such as those at Marwick Head — and are discernible by their monochromatic plumage and chunky black bills streaked with white.

5. Oystercatcher
Short, sharp, pipping calls can be heard across Orkney, courtesy of the orange-billed oystercatcher. These stocky wading birds patrol the shorelines and grassy fields, probing for worms, molluscs and shellfish.