Come what May in the Aiguamolls and Cap de Creus

May 2009 - The Aiguamolls de L'Emporda and The Cap de Creus

“Many thanks once again for a fantastic holiday.”

Liz and Mike Bunting, UK (23 May - 3 June 2009)

A day for firsts.  The first of the month marked the first pleasure-only, leisure-only, responsibility-free, non-working birding day for more than a little while.  Even a friend, who I'd arranged to meet for a lazy day chasing come-what-may in The Aiguamolls de L'Emporda and The Cap de Creus, had been given strict instructions not to ask for any targets.  'O.K.,' he'd e-mailed back totally empathising with my outlook on the day, 'but it would be nice to see Orphean Warbler, Ortolan Bunting, Red-throated Pipit, Wryneck and Marsh Sandpiper.'  'And I wouldn't mind Roller or Red-rumped Swallow.'


In truth, I too was out to get my self a few year-firsts, some of those aforementioned included, but as I sat in the thankfully-lonely hide at Vilaut at 0720, I had already achieved my main objective for the day.  This 'close', Catalan for a pasture surrounded by trees, that floods naturally in perfect time to attract passing waders, terns and others, is my favourite place in the world to be alone.  I poured my self a coffee, opened up a packet of 'Chips Ahoy' cookies and settled down to begin the scan - if I was working, it would have been the other way around.

I'd already walked under a flock of bubbling European Bee-eater, made eye-to-eye contact with a Nightingale and received a warm welcome from a Reed Warbler posted at the hide door before a flock of paddling White Stork, three Greenshank and smatterings of Mallard made up the precursory glance as I perched my self in excited expectation ready to pan from right to left.  I didn't care what I saw, I told my self, but this was the place of many lifers over the ten years I've been coming, not least of which was a small flock of never-to-be-forgotten Red-throated Pipit busying themselves beneath the lip of the hide window, so I'm not sure I was entirely convincing, or convinced.

The silhouette of a Wood Sandpiper stepped first into the water and then into the light, a male Garganey shared some synchronised up-ending with a pair of moulting Common Teal and a Common Cuckoo was, peacefully, the only soundtrack.  At least until my phone bipped with a text that read, 'I'll be there in ten minutes.'  The white hook on the neck of a Northern Pintail caught my eye as it preened in the shallows and a single apparently cold Collared Pratincole just sat there, even when the sun glowed across the water to bathe it in orange and even when I left, nearly two hours later, in the company of said friend.





Although famed for the unexpected and unpredictable, Vilaut is a reliable site for the (this year, very) late-arriving Roller and as we neared the track's end, the familiar rowing action flapped across our bows and landed in a conveniently leafless tree.  A furtive Garden Warbler was betrayed by a mischievous relative, as a singing Sardinian Warbler first attracted our attention to it, and provided a second year-first in as many minutes.

Little more than ten minutes later and we exited the car on the edge of the Cap de Creus National Park and a little under ten paces later were marvelling at a stationary Western Orphean Warbler singing loudly from the underhang branches of an adjacent cork oak.  Reliable site this.  Usually for Wryneck too, and two more Orphean Warblers later, we heard one kreeching, kestrel-like and made our way over carefully to track it.  No luck.  It didn't call again and our chance had fled.

Stopping along the way, we picked off Pied Flycatcher, Cirl Bunting and almost unprecedented numbers of Greenfinch, seemingly craving our attention as much as the warmth as they perched in the shafts of sunlight piercing the shady canopy of the surrounding pines. 

Upon reaching another favourite spot, I was momentarily surprised to see space where usually there was scrub, or maquis.  However, my joy, at witnessing the apparent start of an active clearance programme to combat the dominance of the maquis and its encroachment into the open spaces many birds depend upon, disappeared as sure as the birds themselves as I noticed the rows and rows of recently planted sapling trees.  Man has become so good at preventing the regeneration caused by natural fires that, just as in the Garraf where such burn back hasn't happened for nearly thirty years!, many species such as Rock Thrush, Black Wheatear, Tawny Pipit and Spectacled Warbler are struggling to keep a foothold.





As if to emphasise the value of re-creating these open spaces, however unintentional in this case, the enchanting and enigmatic short-song of an Ortolan Bunting was quickly tracked to reveal two stunning males frolicking amongst the torn up roots and newly-exposed dirt and, when one flew to the dead branch of an old tree to sing again, its yellow throat lit up in the sunshine and swelled as if it was going to burst.  For some reason, the optimism flooded back.

This was my fourth year-first of the day so far, the late-season arrival of three of them inspiring this trip in the first place.  Targets five and six, however, were passage visitors only and both were reaching the end of their respective windows of opportunity.

So imagine my excitement when, almost written-off, not one but two wonderfully sleak, needle-billed Marsh Sandpiper were the first birds I was drawn to amongst the train-station-like throngs criss-crossing over the shallows of El Mata back in the Aiguamolls.  Dwarfed by the Common Redshank, Ruff and Black-winged Stilt, it was a breathe-in-and-savour-it thrill to see their black-spotted plumage so close and watch them slalem their way gracefully between the legs and bodies of their taller rivals.

I was hooked for the next sometime-and-more - truly one of my all-time favourite birds - and confess to paying scant attention to the Red Knot, Spotted Redshank, Grey Plover and the rest, until the tick-tock of time, a.k.a. birding friend, tapped me on the shoulder and said, 'Don't forget you promised me a Red-throated Pipit.'

For year-first number six and a full set for the day, we strolled over to and along the edges of the adjacent field to scour the patch and each blade of grass where Red-throated Pipit are seen each and every year.  Indeed a flock of twenty-one and many more sightings had been reported recently so our expectations of getting the sometimes-binoculars-down views of arms-reach birds began to rise... and then fall.  All twenty-one and their mates were obviously in hiding.  And after a few minutes, where became apparrent as a single dark-throated bird rose vertically up from the mass of impenetrable carpet of grass, drawing-out a diagnostic call of mischief, before teasing a iberiae Yellow Wagtail off a bordering fence-post and settling down back into obscurity.

Very unsatisfactory.  But after the leisurely day-off of relaxing, responsibility-free birding I'd had, I wasn't complaining.  Not one bit.  Roll on the rest of May and roll on the getting back to work.

Finally, as the Roller showed up again to see us off back at our respective cars near Vilaut, we also got the Red-rumped Swallow skimming the crop-tops in an adjacent field.

24th May, 2009


My optimism regarding the Ortolan Bunting proved founded as the two males were still singing in exactly the same place on my only other trip to the region this month.  Lots of Red-rumped Swallow too, well spread across the Cap de Creus National Park and very encouraging as this species is still rather localised in Catalonia.


Western Orphean Warbler continued to show well, particularly a marvellous pair singing and playing right by the car as we drank coffee, and its cousin, the Melodious Warbler, seemed to post singing sentinels everywhere we went.  Wryneck at last improved on its rather poor showing so far this year with two heard calling and one seen well close to a good spot for Dartford Warbler.


Over a dozen immature Shag and a spectacular pair of Honey-buzzard over the car proved to be the only additions over the trip from the first of the month but the mean time, whilst not quite drying up the water in El Mata in the Aiguamolls, certainly saw a reduction in wetland species overall, signalling the beginning of the end of the migration season and the start of getting down to breeding business.  A pair of Mute Swan chasing a Eurasian Spoonbill out of their patch of water confirmed the process was well under way.

April in The Steppes, Catalonia, Spain

April 2009 - The Steppes of Lleida and Los Monegros

"You gave us lots of options, answered emails promptly and put yourself out for us.
On the day we were thrilled to see so many new birds in such a short space of time, without causing them any significant disturbance. You clearly knew the area very well and took us to the best places. It was fascinating to not just tick off the 'lifers' but to learn about the birds and understand them. The star bird was the Black Wheatear, but the Great Spotted Cuckoo was special and the eagle above the petrol station was a wonderful end to a memorable day."

David and Carol Bradley, UK, Guided Birding Day Tour

Drizzzzzle all the way along the AP2 en route to THE STEPPES OF LLEIDA on the first day of the month had the unavoidable effect of lowering our expectations but Catalonia thankfully has a knack for ignoring such negativity, even in the amounts given off by three cynical Brits, and we were immediately rewarded upon our arrival with several quite lovely flocks of white Cattle Egret against the dark grey sky, welcoming us and tempting us to follow.

Follow we would, but later.  They were on their way to the municipal dump for breakfast and, as usual, I had to earn mine by first finding at least one of the area's three key steppe species to watch while I ate.  As it turned out we got two for the price of one as a pair of Stone-curlew flushed up to land in a nearby field and spooked a single male Little Bustard, who settled in cover but no more than a skip and a jump from it's point of take-off.

If they do this, rather than flying away, it usually means a territory has already been established so I knew it wasn't going anywhere and we pointed the scope at the two nervous Eurasian Thick-knees, as the world has rather annoyingly started to call Burhinus oedicnemus, and David and Carol excitedly gulped down their first ever sighting, big yellow eyes and all.  I gulped down my coffee and cookies and kept my big brown eyes on where the Little Bustard landed.



Before long the wailing of the Stone-curlew was joined by the quick ventriloqual fart-raspberry of the Little Bustard and we were able to pick him out and watch on like voyeurs, a sight that was thankfully to be repeated throughout the month with up to six territorial males in this fragment of pseudo-steppe.   After pecking off seeds from the neck-high weeds, he began to swell up his throat and throw back his head, letting out his peculiar flatulent nuptial noise in his attempt to lure a female, but during the time we were there he had no obvious success.  No, it doesn't work with me either.

Not wanting to risk too much disturbance at this time of year, we left him with his disappointment and headed off, accompanied by the sight and soundtrack of chinkling Calandra Lark, to one of this season's 'likely' fields for the last of the magic three.  Magic indeed, as the first stop and the first scan revealed no less then four pairs of Pin-tailed Sandgrouse grouped together and motionless twenty metres from the car, invisible to the naked eye but glorious in their colourful camouflage once three sets of binoculars were pointed in their direction.

It only took a couple of minutes for them to habitualise to us and proceed to walk the short steps their specially-adapted short legs would allow, picking off seeds from weeds just as the Little Bustard had.  They froze momentarily as a ring-tail Hen Harrier flapped and zig-zagged its way over and again we managed to leave them without flushing, an important consideration given their precarious breeding status in the area.  For the record, a maximum of twenty-six Pin-tailed Sandgrouse, mostly in pairs or evenly sexed flocks, were counted during April 2009.



By the 16th, this flushed Montagu's Harrier, looking back at the photographer, had not only replaced the wintering Hen Harrier but had also been seen on every visit, sometimes in the apparent company of a female.  After last year's almost total absence in this patch I'm hopeful that they will stick around to repeat the success of 2007.

Back on the 1st, the Hen Harrier seemed to track us through the day giving us many thrilling encounters but a miserable Common Buzzard perched in a tree-top bode warning of a poor-weather day, short on raptors.  However, like the harriers, not all birds of prey are built for gliding and soaring and a spectacular Osprey passed over head to our delight, especially as we'd already added Red-billed Chough, Red-legged Partridge and, moments before, three Western Bonelli's Warbler.

Almost to the day the year before, we'd had an Osprey at nearby Utxesa lake and so a visit here was planned for the day anyway but a second was too much to ask for and we had to 'settle' for Alpine Swift, Southern Grey Shrike and four Red-rumped Swallow sharing the restricted airspace above the reeds with their numerous Barn Swallow and House Martin cousins.

This feeding frenzy reminded us of lunch and we tucked in and reflected on the mornings highlights, which included White Stork, Red Kite and Black Kite at the dump, a truly beautiful male Marsh Harrier and a passage Blue-headed, flava, Yellow Wagtail whilst making comparisons between the local Crested Lark and Thekla Lark.

But the moment of the morning for me had been all three of us tracking the curious cackling erupting from some pines in the Alfes timoneda.  We lost count as perhaps more than six Great Spotted Cuckoo repeatedly broke cover and, always in pairs, sprinted low over the grassy field between the tree cover on opposite boundaries.  With a little patience and some manouvering we feasted on fantastic telescope views of three particularly helpful birds, one of which possessed a black rather than the grey head of the adult.  Unlikely to be a juvenile so early anyway but a little more patience confirmed a lack of burned orange in the wing indicating it was a first summer individual.

And all this whilst four Hoopoe chased each other around seemingly unable to decide who was with whom for the summer.



As we reached Cogul, after seeing yet more Little Owl sunning themselves on the way, the skies had begun to clear, increasing our hopes of seeing the local breeding Short-toed Eagle.  Mean time a short walk into the sunshine brought out lots of Linnet, a pair of Blue Rock Thrush and the day's second Black-eared Wheatear, again the white-throated form.  A stunning pair of resident Black Wheatear also obliged and completed the set as passage Northern Wheatear had already been recorded earlier in the day.

And finally we were indeed gifted great views of a Short-toed Eagle - but not until we were halfway home and an awesome individual sailed right over the car as I was filling up with petrol!

The local bird, however, proved more helpful on all five of my other April visits, on 5th, 11th, when the picture below was taken, 16th, 20th and 21st.



These visits also included the nearby LOS MONEGROS, targetted for Black-bellied Sandgrouse and, continuing the positive theme, were seen in numbers (max. 40), active and frolicking on all but one (brief) search.  The weather during the month was pretty awful to say the least, not necessarily putting off the birds, as the soaking wet Pin-tailed Sandgrouse below will testify, but making birding slightly less enjoyable, and harder work, than usual.

But in the end, after the apparent shock-wave of last year's agricultural upheaval (following the termination of subsidies for ecologically vital set-aside land), it was a month full of hope, as things seemed to have settled back into the struggle of normalcy, with numbers of displaying Little Bustard up on the previous year, sandgrouse just about holding their own and both Montagu's Harrier and Common Quail (finally seen after countless invisible tempters on 16th, and again on 21st) returning to at least give it a go.  Plenty of Red-rumped Swallow too, even away from their known and localised breeding spots. 

But in a rather magical moment whilst watching a first-winter Golden Eagle being mobbed by two Raven I shushed my two clients and allowed my apparent imagination to materialise into not one but two singing Dupont's Lark, no further than ten metres from the car, in a location I'd never heard them before and at 11.30 in the morning [and this site has since proved very reliable - Stephen, 2011].

Other notables included returning Penduline Tit and Golden Oriole on the 16th, several singing Spectacled Warblers around Los Monegros throughout the month and a sun-soaked break in the rain on the 11th that provided the year firsts of Bee-eater (top photo), Tawny Pipit and singing Nightingale.  Hobby, however, was rather oddly not seen until two birds on 21st.



Thanks to Michael Cox for supplying photos from his trip on the 11th.  More - and better quality if wet! - photos, together with his full account of his three-day birding trip, can be seen on Michael's Blog.  And, if you're interested, the Spring Itineraries can be viewed here.

Client Trip Report: April Day Tour (Barcelona)

3rd April 2010: The Llobregat Delta and Garraf Massis by Derek Gifford & Janet Hale (UK)

This was a guided day's birding with Stephen Christopher who runs Catalan Bird Tours. We began the day at The Llobregat Delta which is a well-organised and designated wetland nature reserve.

Many of 'our' common UK species were present of course which aren't mentioned here because I wanted to concentrate on some of the speciality birds and our first annual sightings of a number of migrants.

One of the first birds heard was Cetti's Warbler but here, instead of the usual 'heard only' status we had good sightings of a number of individuals. Serin were also much in evidence and seen and heard throughout the reserve.

The first migrant we recorded was a fine male Common Redstart followed by a number of Barn Swallow and Common Swift. Other Redstarts were seen later. Sardinian Warbler were also noted although not in large numbers.

The first of the rarer species seen was a Little Crake which constituted an addition to my European list. Although a little elusive at first it eventually showed very well. More numerous were the Zitting Cisticola (I still think that the old name of Fan-tailed Warbler is better!), which were singing and displaying giving excellent views.  Purple Swamphen were also much in evidence making a nice addition to the more common rails etc. that were present.

The next migrants to be noted were House Martin and White Wagtail followed by overflying Yellow Wagtail. We were able to study a variety of sub-species of the latter from one of the hides. These included the nominate Blue-headed flava race from central Europe, flavissima race for the UK and the iberiae for Spain. One of the Italian race cinereocapilla was also present although I wasn't sure that I could identify it as well as Stephen did!

Black-winged Stilt were good to see here, as were a number of Garganey with them. The latter were much more obliging than the ones we see in Britain as they came out into the open water to feed and I was able to take a few 'long shots' of them with the camera. Other common duck species were noted as well as 2 Little Ringed Plover and 2 Green Sandpiper both of which were year ticks for me, all viewed from the extensive hide.

Migrant warblers noted included a 'heard only' Reed Warbler as well as other common ones. On leaving the second hide Stephen heard and spotted a Western Bonelli's Warbler which gave very good views of its very pale underside and a snatch of song reminiscent of the opening notes of wood warbler. Definite ID and a lifer for me!

The next lifer was found along the river estuary where a roost of Audouin's Gull was seen. These handsome gulls were a delight to see as the species was one of my 'must see' larus species. They didn't disappoint.

On the long walk round to bring us back to the reserve reception area we had a brief view of a Little Bittern which was another addition to my European list. A couple of Spotless Starling just outside the reserve were the last highlighted species seen. This is a superb reserve and we saw only a half of it!

We then drove to The Garraf Massis to look for Black Wheatear and it wasn't long before we found both a male and female on the rocky cliffs. Also here were a pair of Blue Rock Thrush making it two lifers in a matter of minutes. The male treated us to a quick sing too. More year ticks were obtained when we saw brief views of Northern Wheatear and Black Redstart. Another Sardinian Warbler and a Peregrine Falcon completed the list on this brief visit.

We finished off the day with a couple of short walks in the high sierras of the Garraf Natural Park looking for eagles and wheatears. On the way we noted Stonechat (another year tick!), Woodchat Shrike (we'd already seen one of these in Barcelona earlier), swallows including a Red-rumped Swallow and a Short-toed Treecreeper, the call of which I heard for the first time - very loud and very different from 'our' treecreeper. A female Pied Flycatcher was also noted during the drive up to the high tops.

It was the second of the walks that produced at least one of the target species in the form of Bonelli's Eagle with a pair flying close enough to 'scope. This meant that I'd seen both species named after the Italian ornithologist Bonelli on the same day!

Just to add to the list, while waiting for the eagles, we found a Thekla Lark which gave good views. The eagles were the most difficult of the species to find for the day and we weren't able to find the hoped for black-eared wheatears but a Dartford Warbler gave me another year tick on the way back from the walk.

We recorded over 80 species in the day which, considering we visited only three habitats and were too early in the year (by a few days only) for a number of other interesting migrant species, was an excellent total which included 5 lifers and a few European ticks for me.

A red letter day's birding. Thanks Stephen!

March on Barcelona! City of Crakes & other migrants

March 2010 - Early Spring Migrants in Catalonia, Spain

Of course, the Spring had already started back in mid-February with the arrival of Great Spotted Cuckoo, Black-winged Stilts (see below) - incidentally both my earliest ever sightings - and Little Ringed Plover, along with the first wave of hirundines such as House Martin, Sand Martin and Barn Swallow.



But it still didn't feel like summer was on its way though until March strode into Catalonia, flanked on either side by warmer temperatures and a little-boy excitement at the impending invasion.



The Llobregat Delta

Common Chiffchaff were singing everywhere.  A stunning male Common Redstart flicked in front of me as I arrived breathless on 2nd March, giving me another 'earliest record' but, more importantly, reuniting me with a childhood friend once again.



Yet another earliest record, this Yellow Wagtail almost did likewise but for the fact that I grew up in the UK, where my youth was spent with it's yellow-headed cousin, flavissima.  Above is a male iberiae subspecies of course and was one of four, discovered skipping in front of me with glee along with two females and a male cinereocapilla, which looks similar but lacks the eye-stripe (photo below taken on 29th).



I skipped off with equal amounts of glee, but with added anticipation, and came across six Black-winged Stilt, the first for the reserve, if not for me, this season.

The lagoons were carpeted with migrants, either waiting to head off - like Common Snipe, a half-dozen remnant Lapwing, Common Teal, five Northern Pintail, a lone Tufted Duck and a good handful of Eurasian Wigeon - or getting their bearings from a recently-completed journey from Africa.



Criss-crossing across the shallows were waders such as Black-tailed Godwit, Spotted Redshank and this Wood Sandpiper above, which counted as the first migrant as the birds I'd seen in The Ebro Delta earlier in the year were from a small wintering population.  But I must have been the only person in Catalonia not to have seen a Garganey yet.

Still, after listening to and watching Moustached Warbler, Penduline Tit and Short-toed Treecreeper, I was absolutely thrilled to jam the breaks on barely two minutes after leaving the reserve and hold my excited binoculars up to my eyes to welcome back the sight of a particular circling raptor - the whole area's first Spring 2010 record for Short-toed Eagle and, again, the earliest sighting of my ten-years-plus in Catalonia.



The Garraf Massis

Back in my garden, the Siskin (above) numbers went up to ten birds, low for the year, to remind me that winter wasn't quite over and a Common Minah (below) flew across my bonnet, en route back to Llobregat (where else would you want to be at this time of year?) on the 5th, to remind me that some things never seem to change.  Every time I think that this small family near my house has succumbed they contrive to show up again to prove me wrong.



This photo above was taken in February but sometimes months go by before I see them.



I finally caught up with Garganey (above) on The Llobregat on the 5th, with five males and a couple of females there by the 8th March.

But a morning spent beforehand brought up two Slender-billed Gull, with the needle-bills of one adult and a first winter mixed in with a haystack of Yellow-legged, Black-headed, Audouin's and summer-headed Mediterrranean Gulls and were only needled out with patience - or was it merely that we hadn't finished the chocolate-chip cookies yet?

In any case, we were fortunate as a wonderful winter-plumaged Little Gull suddenly bounced and dipped in front of the hide and encouraged us to stay even longer, during which time we also picked out two Black-necked Grebe diving together and enjoyed being swarmed by an invading flock of hirundines and Alpine Swift (below).



Although this was my first sighting of the year, word had already got out about the incredible and increasing numbers of hundreds of early birds that had been around Barcelona for a few days.  What was going on down there in Africa?



Red-rumped Swallow (above, with Barn Swallows, and below), was the last of the hirundines to be recorded for 2010 but, yet again, I got my earliest record on the 5th.  One of my top two sights of the Spring is watching all five European hirundines simultaneously filling the skies and my wishes were granted on 8th and 10th too.



Willow Warbler was the next year-tick but what a day the 8th was...  After being warned of the presence of a male Little Crake (top photo by Ferran Lopez-sanz), I waited in the rain - in the mean time entertained by Moustached Warbler, Grey Wagtail, of course Red-rumped Swallows and this Cetti's Warbler behind me -



- to get quite stunning views of the male at less than two metres.  And then after a slight lull, it suddenly ran from a dense patch of reeds chasing a female (below), who skulked away but was eventually relocated...



And I'd been impressed with my close-on views of Water Rail when I'd first arrived!



Strangely, my records show that this annual passage visitor had been first reported on The Llobregat Delta on more or less the same date for the past three years.



By the 10th March, after a freakish day of snow!, only the female was to be seen it seemed but again she ignored my feet and went about her business.

The 10th was probably going to be my last trip of the month, given that I was to be away for the last two weeks, and so I just sat in the hides all morning and watched March march by...



where there was always something different to keep me company.  Alpine Swifts (above), hirundines and even Monk Parakeets filled the skies...



the usual suspects such as these Northern Shoveler above and Northern Pintail below joined hundreds of other ducks, gulls and waders on the water...



occasionally heading for the skies as a Marsh Harrier or Peregrine swooped through.  And occasionally too, being joined by some special guests, like these Greater Flamingo, passing by...



I finally caught up with Night Heron today and, with a nice-surprise of a 2nd winter Common Gull on Vilanova beach whilst taking my son for a walk, currently stand on 192 species for 2010.  What a country this is!

Thankfully, with a little birding in the UK and a trip to Andujar in southern Spain to keep me excited in the mean time, I'll be back soon.

UPDATE: 31 March 2010

The highlights of two quick irresistible birding forays on 29th and 31st March after I got back from Andujar and the UK, included year-first Western Bonelli's Warbler in The Garraf en route to Purple Heron, Temminck's Stint, Marsh Sandpiper and Common Whitethroat on The Llobregat Delta, where Little Gull, Ruff, Whiskered Tern, Common Swift and a thunbergi Yellow Wagtail were also present and remnant Wigeon, Northern Pintail and a couple of Lapwing still remained.

However, the main attraction on both days was yet another crake, this time a long-staying Spotted Crake which spent much of its time, despite the impression given by my rubbish photos, out in the open...

Spring in the Steppes - a day tour in March

25th March 2008 - The Steppes of Lleida

A guided day tour to The Steppes in early Spring with Sam and Jamie Durrant, who kindly supplied his photos, on their quest for Great Spotted Cuckoos.




Due to a deliberately late start, traffic problems and wind building through out the day, we had to work hard for our birds today but these two Little Bustards, one of the first to pair up and set up a territory, would have made it worthwhile on their own.

Flocks of up to one hundred Calandra Larks and a couple of dozen Lesser Short-toed Larks sent up a welcoming chorus as I wound down the car window (o.k. with a button) upon our arrival in the Steppes.  Unfortunately, about the same number of dust grains blasted onto my eye balls and I wound it up again, deciding I'd appreciate their song another time.

We moved on quickly to try and capitalise on what little of the morning was left and were entertained by car side Hoopoe, several Stone-curlew and a stunning Black-eared Wheatear before a Black Kite did us a favour and flushed a small flock of Pin-tailed Sandgrouse, which complained noisily as they headed off over the horizon.



A thorough scan of the surrounding fields failed to find any more but it did refill my eyes with dust thankfully just after locating four Dotterel that had been historically over-wintering in the area since December.  As usual during this time they had been politely posing for photos, a habit that seemed to be catching on as a Thekla Lark followed suit a few minutes later.

A diversion to nearby Aspa provided a welcome break from the wind and dust and an even more welcome opportunity for Jamie to pick up a lifer.  A short hunt ended with both male and female Black Wheatears showing well to complete the set for Spain (several migrating Northern Wheatear had already been ticked).

Blue Rock Thrush, Southern Grey Shrike, Corn Bunting, Red-billed Chough and Short-toed Eagle all delayed our arrival at a small almond orchard bordered by the all important pine trees that serve up the normally distateful caterpillars that our main target bird loves to gobble up.  We spent the next twenty minutes or more, accompanied by flocks of Linnets, head-shaving Alpine Swift and yet more Stone-curlew, stalking ever-better views of around seven or eight noisy and very flighty Great Spotted Cuckoos.



Once one settled in the fork of a nearby almond and sat there for a long-awaited study, Jamie did his customary 'lifer dance' (whilst I was looking the other way) and we were happy.

Time then for a quick stop at the dump to watch the hundreds of White Storks, Black-headed Gulls, Black Kites and Cattle Egrets (about a hundred of which rose up to float along side the car as we drove through) to fight it out over luncheon scraps.  A lone Red Kite made a last gasp attempt to get the 'raptor of the day' award as it descended over the car but an amazing assault of a Merlin on a passing Barn Swallow, failing in four attempts to tuck in to a late lunch, had already won that hands down.

Winter Wallcreeper, Snowfinch and Lammergeier

January 2009 - The Pyrenees, Catalonia, Spain

"Thank you so much for showing us so much.  So many birds.  Great memories of the Snowfinch (our favourite), bluethroat, hoopoe, etc. etc. etc. etc.

How wonderfully relaxed it all was - not having to think about where we were going and just being able to enjoy the scenery and look for the birds was about perfect and then lunch was served. Thanks again."

Dilys and Eric Powell, U.K. (after a full week's winter birding)

On 11th January, in The Pyrenees, we were staring up towards the rock face in front of us, binoculars gripped at at-the-ready-chin-height and waiting for the next white flashes to explode into the clarity of the blue-blue sky before arching and falling back down into the obscurity of white-on-white – Snowfinch on snow.



At officially up to 3cm longer than a Chaffinch, there’s no deception of how big these long- and white-winged relatives seem when you see them set against the azure sky, even at this distance, and it all just adds to the thrill.  We ‘ooo-ed’ and ‘argh-ed’ like children around a bonfire, calling ‘there!’ and ‘this side!’ as each small flock threw itself up and dropped back down.  Occasionally, again just like fireworks, we lucked upon one or two on the ground and gleefully gathered our telescopes around to watch them feeding.

The post-breeding movements of (White-winged) Snowfinches, which can start as early as late July, is always unpredictable, depending upon the weather as it does, but this has been a good year.  Out of the total of 613 birds rung in the Collada de Toses between 2005 and 2009, 328 have been rung this winter, with none in the two years previously [Although we've had them every year since, Stephen, 2011].

‘Wait a minute,’ I mumbled as I was scanning the rock face, and headed for my telescope to confirm an overactive imagination.  But, ‘Wallcreeper!’ Max shouted and sure enough, the apparent peering head, that I may have dismissed as fantasy without a back-up pair of eyes, turned out to be a crazy lone pela-roques, in Catalan, eeking out a lunatic living on the freezing cold, snow-covered cliffs of the magical, magical Pyrenees.

In turns, it was seen fluttering out way over our heads to disappear into thin air, avoiding the high-mag gaze of our scopes with some sleight-of-wing, and dropping like a Peregrine the whole height of the cliff only to be sucked onto it’s sheer surface just metres from certain death as if it was suddenly magnetised.  Wallcreeper are supposed to descend to lower altitudes in weather like this and, although it breeds at up to 3000m above sea level, I would hardly call the snow-covered 2000m at which we were now perched a descent!



Unlike (White-winged) Snowfinch, which rarely drop below 1500m, Wallcreeper are regularly found wintering even at sea level (see The Garraf) so it was really the former that inspired the trips up from Barcelona and, a few days before, on the 6th, we’d been lucky enough to watch more than one-hundred work their way down this same hill, rolling over each other back over front (like a slinky if you remember the seventies!), over our heads and settle along the edges of the melting snowline a few metres below us.  With us too engrossed and the flock restless, we didn’t think of photos but when we drove right into a small group a couple of hours later, we jammed on the brakes and clicked away as about a dozen skipped their way onto a roadside bank and grazed fearlessly at window-level as we followed on in first gear.  Worth the trip alone.

With a distinct feeling of dejà vu, and six kilometres, twenty-minutes and a three hundred metre drop in altitude later, we were doing exactly the same thing with a half-dozen disinterested Alpine Accentor.  What a plumage.  What a place. 

Alpine Accentor had been observed on the 11th too, sneaking between the feet of the Snowfinch, but a little too far to truly appreciate.  No matter, Alpine Accentor, again unlike Snowfinch, also make winter trips to low-level mountains ranges and can be found quite easily in the same spot in the Garraf, for instance, along with Wallcreeper.

And anyway, another better surprise was yet to come. 



Having been sent packing by a swarm of woollen hats and skis, we found ourselves car-tracking the white wings and tail edges of what we thought was a lone Snowfinch dipping and diving over the contours and corners of the winding road cutting it’s way through the deep snow of the Moixero Natural Park.  When it finally stopped, we did likewise, this time even managing a photograph – of a Snow Bunting!  The average for Catalonia is less than one per year so we were lucky we found a whole one.

In all the excitement it might have been easy to forget another rather startling moment of discovery.  Whilst enjoying the cliff-side matinee described earlier we were treated to a honking Raven flying low overhead.  Only to fill in time, or perhaps out of habit, we all raised our binoculars to the remarkable – and for me never-seen-before – sight of the underside of a Raven lit in a bounced snow light that revealed more shades and tones of brown than I’d ever seen.  I swear I could see every feather and will never think of a Raven as a black bird again.



Now fast forward to the 17th and we’re back again…déjà vu…as, standing in almost exactly the same spot, the same reflected snow light paints every contour of the underside of a truly majestic (there is no other word for this bird) low-flying, adult Lammergeier.  Orange.  Beard.  The lot.  For a fleeting moment I contemplated the fifteen metres between my self and the camera (in the boot of the car of course) but in the end thought, ‘sod it’ and just enjoyed it.  Wow.  It actually hung around for an hour or so, at one point deigning to land - but immediately taking off in the moments that it saw me glance towards my camera bag.

The snow remained but this encouraged the skiers as well as the Snowfinch, now estimated at around sixty birds, to hang around so the former made the job of tracking the latter much harder and unusually it took us until the afternoon.  In the meantime, the usual Peregrine, Griffon Vulture, Crossbill, Firecrest, Dipper and array of tits kept us entertained, we successfully out-waited the Alpine Accentors at their regular spot and a lovely flock of eighty chirping Alpine Chough floated around us and landed noisily on the road ahead.

It was clear that many birds, Wallcreeper included, found it hard to tear themselves away even in times of harsh and ruthless weather and on each and every visit, as we left the slope of the village main street and upped the gears onto the road back to Barcelona, I had no difficulty understanding why.



Photos by Dilys Powell, Max Andrews, Darren Shirley and Stephen Christopher.

A January Quest for 100 Species in a Day

15th January 2008 - Garraf Massis and Llobregat Delta, Barcelona

I don’t know why but today I tried something I’d never attempted before: to deliberately seek out 100 species in a single day.  I was inspired by the season – winter in the Garraf Massis is a great time for mixed flocks of birds that can be elusive at other times – but to ensure I didn’t get caught up in numbers I decided upon a strategy of no counting and, as I write, I still don’t know if I succeeded.  I think its close.

GARRAF



Already half-an-hour late leaving, it seemed my chances were already blown when my wife informed me I was taking her to Barcelona first - and then plugged in her hairdryer!  Undaunted, and knowing the ‘five minutes’ she said it would take her meant twenty, I stuck my head out of the window.

The sound of two marbles tack-tacking together alerted my attentions to the silhouette of a Blackcap in the garden fence.  A Crested Tit replied with a soft rattle from the clothesline but, perhaps distracted by the Starling flying overhead, a Blue Tit beat it to the peanut holder.  Sardinian Warbler and Great Tit barged their way into the growing symphony and by the time the lights were fully up the orchestra was completed by a chinkling tree-top Serin, an invasion of unappreciative House Sparrows and a Magpie laughing on from the neighbour’s aerial. The role of conductor was shared perhaps between the baton-like tail flickings of a White Wagtail and my very own wintering Black Redstart.  My wife was still drying her hair.

Just as well as there was still one potentially difficult species missing. Up to forty-four had been frequenting the garden since the turn of the year but I needed just one of them.  A male Chaffinch joined a Collared Dove underneath the feeders and, not before time, twenty-three Siskin came in to rapturous applause.  Well, I cheered anyway.

Thanks to a near-empty petrol tank and a tractor driver who was obviously worried about arriving somewhere early, it was already ten-thirty by the time I arrived at my re-scheduled first destination.  I’d picked up Kestrel, Woodpigeon, Grey Heron and Cormorant en route and added Monk Parakeet and Yellow-legged Gull in Barcelona itself but I could already feel time slipping away.

LLOBREGAT DELTA

Still The Llobregat Delta, a wetland bird reserve close to the airport, promised much and, after a fallow field near the entrance yielded Pheasant, Snipe, Goldfinch, Meadow Pipit, Skylark and Crested Lark, I entered the gates breathless and eager.

However, for the next minutes I went no further than the Kingfisher perched in a spot of sunlight on a small bridge and even had time, entertained meanwhile by noisy Cetti’s and Fan-tailed Warblers, to mark the red base to its female bill.

I always make my way to the shores of Ca L’arana with urgent expectation regardless of today’s quest and so make no excuses for skipping past Little Grebe, Little Egret, Coot, Moorhen, Chiffchaff and Blackbird.  But a flock of Crag Martin scything through the mist of tiny insects just above the reeds did delay me and I wavered for some time over a pair of Sandwich Tern over the river, laughing mockingly at the attempts of the Black-headed Gulls to show off.

Once at the beach I scanned it with anticipation picking out Mediterranean Gull and Shelduck but only a single Kentish Plover and a Dunlin represented the waders.  I was disappointed but it proved short-lived as a series of careful scans through the rise and fall of the water at the mouth of the river revealed a solitary Eider Duck, the same one I believe that we found on a trip in November and a great tick for the region.

But the best was yet to come.  On the way back, past the somewhat odd sight of a Buzzard perched next to a Stonechat, I was suddenly smothered in shadow and looked up to confront the possibility of a Great Bittern landing on my head.  The colour of this bird, with a yellow-green hue not at all appreciated from books, is so unique that the only reason you don’t shout Bittern! the very moment you see it is that you somehow need that moment to let your luck sink in. Beautiful.

Unphased by our close-encounter, it flew up and off, paddling over the tree-tops of la pineda towards the shore.  By the time I’d climbed the tower to track it, it had disappeared and I was left with the Wren that had been calling since I arrived at the spot.

Then I noticed that it was calling AT something.  And then I noticed that that something was a Moustached Warbler.  With a partner!  Now, I really didn’t care how many birds I saw, there was no way I was moving from here first and, like a game of ‘stare challenge’, I fixed my gaze onto them lest I should lose them for a second.  I love this bird and I watched them systematically sift their way through a thin line of reeds along a ditch towards me, picking off morsels from each and every stem like dust-obsessed librarians.  Taking turns to overtake each other, they also hopped past a Robin and a half-dozen Reed Buntings before flicking off into cover.

Astonishingly, the very next bird I saw upon entering the hide, bar a Marsh Harrier teasing an unknown something the other side of it, was another Moustached Warbler, scaling and leaping across the cut reed bases just below the lip of the window.

The lake itself was awash with Mallard, Gadwall, Shovelor and a single Tufted Duck with Teal and a handful of Purple Swamphen making use of the boundaries.  The long-staying White-fronted Goose made a lazy appearance, waddling out of some long grass for a sip and a snooze.



The outward-bound walk donated nothing new save a bunch of twurping Greenfinch, a Cattle Egret and another Great Bittern flying lazily over head.  I said the plumage was unique but of course there is one other thing that matches its colour exactly  – the seasonal spectrum of shades and shade found in a reed bed itself.

Thinking I’d had my lot for this site, I was driving the long way out ‘just in case’ when another stunning heron almost flew in to me, or the car.  And this time I did shout.  ‘£@k m€ a Little Bittern!’  This was truly outstanding.  As a rule they don’t over winter, of course, but following the trend of many of its cousins across Europe it shouldn’t really be a surprise.  It settled and stilled itself on the opposite side of a channel and this time, eventually, I was the first to move.

I’d had a fantastic time already and so decided on a short stop off for lunch at the reserve at the other side of the airport before heading off for a change of scenery back in THE GARRAF.

So I ate my way through additional Night Heron, about thirty of them, four Spoonbill, Greylag Goose, Wigeon, Lapwing, Feral Pigeon, Coal Tit, Tree Sparrow and, again only a lone wader, a Spotted Redhank.  An irresistible quick stop-off at the beach though was worthwhile with a few distant Gannet taking the plunge and a small group of Balaeric Shearwater landing not far from the shore.

GARRAF

Still undecided about which route to take as I approached the roundabout my hands did the thinking and yanked me right, sending me inland and leaving the coast for later.  As I reached the summit of the steep road taking me into The Garraf, having seen Blue Rock Thrush but failed to find Alpine Accentor along the way, a ringtail Hen Harrier became the third bird of the day to nearly hit me.  Thankfully it braked before I did, fully exposed me its under parts and fled.

A good omen I thought but more than half an hour later, speeding away from the Carxol Valley without the expected Bonelli’s Eagle or Thekla Lark, I had ‘only’ Song Thrush, Southern Grey Shrike and two coveys of Red-legged Partridge to show for my trouble.  A Dartford Warbler tail-bounced over my bonnet to complete the full set of winter warblers.

The light threatening to fade, and reminding my self that this was not Llobregat and that birds had to be worked for, I re-planned and re-routed to an old masia in a lush estate that always held a few passerines and was immediately rewarded with a Jay and a fleeing, screaming Green Woodpecker.  And then suddenly, in yet another of those ‘made my day’ moments, I came across a female Brambling – my first for Spain! – in the midst of all the other finches and tits.  Unfortunately, it didn’t hang around for long so I took its cue, leaving a sulky Dunnock and a Short-toed Treecreeper to whisper about me as I got back in the car.

Now I had to make some decisions and, as I definitely wanted to check out the coastal cliffs for one particular prize, I had to abandon a couple of sites and drive straight there – in the full knowledge of course that driving straight there would be impossible.

And so it proved, with roadside stops absolutely unavoidable due to a flock of Rock Bunting flushed to nearby bushes from a tiny field of vines (also Mistle Thrush), a Sparrowhawk emerging from another dispersing flock of passerines before landing nearby and, finally, my Bonelli’s Eagle!

When I saw a speck round a mid-distant hill I jammed the brakes on (action that is essential with specks if you’re not to lose them in the fineries of the Highway Code).  Job done, I simply had to track it, a stunning adult bird, as it flew in a direct line across the fields in front of me and flapped on towards the coast.

I always note the time when I see a raptor and, at 16.18, I knew I had barely an hour of proper daylight left – but I still had to go through the farmland and vineyards.  There was no other course of action available to me as I scrapped my intention to walk it and naughtily drove down the farmer’s tractor track.  Well, he wouldn’t mind.

As I exited, escorted from in front by an extremely slow tractor, I had the strangest feeling I’d seen the driver somewhere before.  A pair of Raven sky-strolled overhead, honk-honking their disapproval.  But, in the meantime, I had witnessed a wonderful view of a field full of White Wagtail and Woodlarks at eye level (as the track dropped below the boundary wall), as well as ticking off Rock Sparrow, Linnet, a couple of Corn Bunting, a few Spotless Starling and a dozen Cirl Bunting in one bush!

With the sun setting bright and blocking my view along the line of cliffs toward the south-west, I finally arrived at my target destination a little disappointed that the mornings events had robbed me of the time to give the place justice.  But never let it be said that the impossible isn’t possible or that wives shouldn’t be given a beautiful big beautiful kiss for needing to blow-set every hair in place.

As I raised my binoculars in a laughable attempt to find my resident Wallcreeper, it flew straight across my field of view, landed on a small peak posturing and I spent the next fifteen to twenty minutes having some of the most peaceful views of this species I’d ever had.  To the soundtrack of twilight Blue Rock Thrush and the breaking waves I watched its grey, white, red and black butterfly from rock to crack to peak and back again in an attempt to reap the day’s final reward.

As regards to mine, I’m tempted even now not to count.  But I’m going to.  95. Although I mustn’t forget to add that Peregrine Falcon patrolling the cliff tops of Falconera. 96.

January in the Ebro Delta, Catalonia, Spain

Ebro Delta, 10th January 2008

I’d waited patiently for the Three Kings to deliver their gifts, worked out how the hell the tree went back into its box and now I was drooling as, allowed out for the first time, I crossed the bridge over the river and finally set tyre in The Ebro Delta.  I’m not one for counting particularly but less than twenty on my year list was painful.  A sympathetic Hoopoe rowed over the bonnet.  Thanks mate.

As I drove into the rice fields out of St. Jaume, a ring of mist masked the horizon in all directions, creating a comforting circle into which no-one else seemed to venture.  Common Buzzards marshalled the perimeter, posted in each leafless tree, motionless and morose like leftover Christmas tree decorations.  The sparklingly clean black and grey under-wings of a male Marsh Harrier spirited into view flying along side the driver’s window, tilting left and right to show off its glorious roast-chestnut chest and, rather topically if a little late, guided me like the star of Bethlehem to my first stop of the day.

I’d never stopped here before but I was immediately presented with two dark shapes in the middle of a reed-edged field and, for twenty minutes, a pair of Water Rails strutted and pecked their way ever-closer.  A flock of Reed Buntings gleaning the horsetails and a rather unusual foraging partnership between a Moorhen and a Blackbird only proved minor distractions until I was able to put my binoculars down and marvel at the absolute marvellousness of both the rails by the car door.

They were sent scurrying by an unknown force and I moved on - only to stop a few metres along the road to marvel some more; this time at a light-phase Booted Eagle perched in one of its favourite spots.

Still early when I reached the beach, only a solitary Kentish Plover quick-stepped its way over the dewy sand.  The sea was calm but empty.  Groups of Purple Swamphen began tempting themselves out of the reed beds with nervous contact calls and another unknown threat put up a huge gathering of ducks on a distant lagoon.  It may as well have been wielding a knife as the massive blanket of wings was ripped into species portions of, amongst others, Wigeon, Gadwall and Pintail before circling and returning to knit themselves back together on the water’s surface.

Via Greylag Geese, Glossy Ibis and Common Kingfishers on every post, I made my way back and searched the strangely wriggling surface of a paddy field around a masia on the Illa de Riu.  The responsibility was mostly down to several hundred Little Stint and numerous Ringed Plover but, forewarned by the word on the cyber street, I managed to pick out the lone Pectoral Sandpiper.

Several more Hoopoe, a curious Dartford Warbler and a rather bolshy Bluethroat, skipping from bush to bush as I passed, were picks of the bunches of passerines smothering every reed and cabbage plant and the rafts of Golden Plover and Lapwing to be found in the delta’s fields was a spectacle hard to beat.

But beaten it was.  A Great Bittern at Riet Vell; Richard’s Pipit, Southern Grey Shrike and a Peregrine locking claws with a Marsh Harrier on my way from Eucaliptus to La Tancada; a flock of about twenty Lesser Short-toed Larks when I got there that were close enough to touch until my mobile rang!  Take your pick.

My own choice would be the sight of Red-throated Diver, Red-breasted Merganser and Black-necked Grebe diving in the same binocular field of view but I also basked in the sheer numbers of Greenshank, Grey Plover, Dunlin and, in particular, Sanderling and Little Stint sifting through the pools of La Tancada.   A little sifting myself pulled out morsels of Turnstone, Common and Spotted Redshank and both Common and Green Sandpiper.



By now the sun had gone almost full circle and the light promised little more than an hour before bedtime but even so a quick dash through the stretch to L’Encanyissada produced the resident (and presumed) hybrid Little Egret x Western Reef Heron opposite the watchtower at l’Embut, masses of Common and Red-crested Pochard on El Clot and, for the second visit running, a Red-nobbed (Crested) Coot at Pont de Traves.

Finally, in the small pond next to the Casa de Fusta as I was leaving, yet another Water Rail, feeding out in the open and confident enough to resist fleeing despite me jamming on the breaks!

As I said, I don’t count.  (!).  But I was gifted well over 80 species in a short mid-winter day and I missed a few too.  It amazed me how the pressure of finding food in the colder months makes birds occupy every single niche possible, from the expanse of lagoons and reed beds harbouring Greater Flamingos and Chiffchaffs respectively to a few teasels on the edge of a rice field fleetingly playing host to a party of Goldfinch.

Other species seen: 

Little Grebe, Great Crested Grebe, Great Cormorant, Cattle Egret, Little Egret, Great Egret, Grey Heron, Shelduck, Mallard, Shovelor, Kestrel, Coot, Common Snipe, Mediterranean Gull, Yellow-legged Gull, Lesser Black-backed Gull, Audouin’s Gull, Black-headed Gull, Slender-billed Gull, Sandwich Tern, Feral Pigeon, Collared Dove, Crested lark, Skylark, Meadow Pipit, Water Pipit, Grey Wagtail, White Wagtail, Robin, Black Redstart, Stonechat, Cettis Warbler, Fan-tailed Warbler, Blackcap, Sardinian Warbler, Magpie, Starling, Spotless Starling, House Sparrow, Tree Sparrow, Chaffinch, Greenfinch, Linnet.