Copinsay
Copinsay is a small, uninhabited island lying approximately three miles off the eastern coast of the Orkney Mainland, in the waters of the Pentland Firth approach. It is one of Orkney's most significant wildlife sanctuaries and holds particular importance as a seabird colony of national renown. The island covers around 75 hectares and rises to dramatic sandstone cliffs on its eastern side, which plunge into the North Sea and provide nesting ledges for tens of thousands of seabirds each spring and summer. It was designated a Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) reserve in 1973, purchased in memory of the naturalist and broadcaster James Fisher, who died in 1970, making it one of the charity's earlier island reserves in Scotland. The reserve status has allowed the island's bird populations to thrive largely undisturbed, and it remains a premier destination for serious birdwatchers willing to make the effort to reach it.
The history of Copinsay stretches back well before its modern conservation role. Like most Orkney islands, it bears a Norse name — the suffix "-ay" is derived from the Old Norse word for island, and the first element likely relates to a personal name or a geographic descriptor from the Viking settlement period. The island was farmed for centuries, and the ruins of a farmstead still stand near the gentler western slopes, a reminder that people once eked out a living in this exposed and remote place. A lighthouse was constructed on Copinsay in 1915 by the Northern Lighthouse Board and guided ships through the busy and treacherous waters east of Orkney. The lighthouse was automated in 1990, ending any permanent human habitation on the island. Before automation, lighthouse keepers and their families were the last residents, maintaining a small community in otherwise absolute isolation.
The physical character of Copinsay is dominated by its geology and the raw energy of the northern ocean. The eastern and southern flanks of the island consist of layered Old Red Sandstone cliffs, which glow orange and amber in low sunlight and have been sculpted by Atlantic storms into ledges, geos, and stacks. The most striking of these is the Horse of Copinsay, a large sandstone stack separated from the main island body and accessible at low tide by a rocky causeway — it is itself a notable landmark visible from the Orkney Mainland on a clear day. The western side of the island is considerably gentler, sloping down to a grassy shore where landing by small boat is possible in calm conditions. In spring and early summer, the noise on the cliffs is extraordinary: the constant cacophony of guillemots, razorbills, kittiwakes, and fulmars creates a wall of sound that is both overwhelming and deeply memorable. The smell of guano and salt air is pervasive, and the sensation of standing on the cliff edge with thousands of birds wheeling below is difficult to replicate anywhere else in Britain.
Birdlife is the central reason most visitors seek out Copinsay. The cliffs host one of Orkney's largest concentrations of cliff-nesting seabirds, with guillemots numbering in the tens of thousands packed onto ledges in extraordinary density. Razorbills, shags, herring gulls, great black-backed gulls, and kittiwakes all breed here. Puffins nest in burrows on the gentler slopes, and the island also supports a significant population of black guillemots. Migrating species pause on the island during spring and autumn passages, and rare birds occasionally turn up, making it a draw for twitchers during migration seasons. Grey seals haul out on the rocky shores with regularity, and the surrounding waters hold porpoises and, less commonly, orcas that patrol this part of Orkney's coastline.
The surrounding seascape provides the broader context for Copinsay's character. To the west lies the Orkney Mainland, with the low green hills around Deerness clearly visible. To the north, the smaller island of Corn Holm and the tidal Skerry of Copinsay complete a small archipelago. The waters between Copinsay and the mainland are relatively sheltered compared to the open sea to the east, but they can still be rough and unpredictable, particularly in autumn and winter when Atlantic depressions sweep through in rapid succession. The light in this part of Orkney is remarkable — long summer days produce golden hours that seem to stretch for hours, while winter brings dramatic skies and the occasional display of the Northern Lights.
Visiting Copinsay requires some planning and a degree of determination. There is no scheduled ferry service to the island. Access is typically arranged through private boat charter from the Deerness area of the Orkney Mainland, with operators in the region willing to make the crossing in suitable conditions. The RSPB manages the reserve but does not operate visitor facilities on the island itself — there are no toilets, no shelter beyond the abandoned buildings, and no services of any kind. Visitors are advised to bring everything they need, wear appropriate waterproof clothing, and be prepared for the crossing to be cancelled at short notice due to weather. The best time to visit is between May and July, when the seabird colonies are at their most active and the long daylight hours allow extended time ashore. Outside this window, the island is far less rewarding and considerably harsher in terms of conditions.
One of the more poignant facts about Copinsay is its role as a living memorial. When James Fisher — a founding figure of British popular natural history writing and a champion of seabirds — died in a car accident in 1970, friends and colleagues raised funds to purchase an island in his memory. Copinsay was chosen partly for its importance to the very species, particularly guillemots and other auks, that Fisher had devoted much of his career to studying and celebrating. His book "The Fulmar" remains a classic of British ornithological writing, and the island stands as an appropriate tribute: wild, populated entirely by birds, and largely untouched by human interference. Few nature reserves in Britain carry such a specific and personal backstory, and that layer of human meaning adds something to the experience of standing on its windswept cliffs surrounded by the clamour of seabirds.