Washington State - Day 1

Day 1 - Vancouver to Port Angeles

I woke up at 4am, wondering where I was. Vancouver of course! Rather than drive south into Washington the previous night, which I could easily have done in retrospect, I stayed overnight and was at the Avis counter when it opened, and a short while later was the proud owner of an enormous white GMC jeep thing. At that time of the morning the border crossing was uneventful, and now in the US I was itching to do some birding. An interstate rest stop provided the first opportunity, and in the shady margins I found Swainson's Thrush, my first western Juncos, and plentiful American Robins. A Red-breasted Sapsucker provided a bit of colour, and was a the first tick of the trip – booked many months ago and thus allowing the excitement to build and build. It would have been easy to stay and bird here, but I knew there were better stops ahead.

The first of the these is Deception Pass, shortly after you head west onto Fidalgo Island. Here I saw my first Bald Eagles and was able to study the Gulls for the first time – a monoculture of Glaucous-winged, the majority adults or near so. From a view-point near the bridge I scoped my first Pigeon Guillemots and Black Oystercatchers. Further south, on Whidbey Island, I spent quite a bit of time at Admiralty Bay before catching the ferry from Fort Casey. The shoreline held numerous Harlequin Ducks, unfortunately on the shoreline owned by beachfront properties and thus off limits, a few White-winged Scoters, as well as Caspian Terns and more Pigeon Guillemots. A Killdeer with two chicks warned me away from the front lawn of a tidy-looking house, but the main interest was the wetland area immediately behind the beach. A male Northern Harrier hunted the reeds, and I added many of the American Ducks to the list here. Red-winged Blackbirds and American Goldfinches were fairly obliging, and several bright House Finches were seen. I probably birded around here for a couple of hours before deciding to head for the ferry that I could see steaming in – there's no need to book this crossing.

I treated this brief crossing as a mini-pelagic, and picked up my first Common Murres, Rhinocerous Auklets, and a Pacific Diver. There were fewer birds than I had been led to believe, but with most being new it was still an exciting trip, and at only $13 for me and the car, decent value, as well as cutting out loads of miles for anyone approaching the Olympic Peninsula from the north.

I then birded my way around the coast west to Dungeness, ending up at the river mouth there. This was a fantastic spot with yet more new Ducks – lovely drake Blue-winged Teals the highlight, and hundreds of Hirundines. As I worked on a couple of Red-headed Blackbirds, a commotion to my right made me look up, and all of a sudden a Bald Eagle was sweeping in, trying for a wildfowl meal, and attracting the irate attention of many of the other residents. I swung the camera up and towards it, dialling in the exposure compensation as I did so (this is where the all-the-gear-no-idea crew would get a series of absurdly blown images!) and rattled off a series of shots an incredibly plucky Brewer's Blackbird flew in and actually landed on the Eagle's back and gave it a good peck! It was over in a heartbeat, three seconds from the first image to the last, and the Eagle didn't give a damn! I've included here the first image from this series, and will post the sequence in a separate post later. With that excitement over with I continued birding, picking up Savannah Sparrow, and a Pied-billed Grebe hidden in the reedy margins. Exploring the shoreline netted Western Sandpiper and more Killdeers, and for anyone visiting this location, be sure to scope the wooden pilings just offshore as underneath the Cormorant colony are a few Purple Martin nestboxes – this was a much-wanted species and not at all widespread.

I continued west to Port Angeles, my base for the next two nights, and seeing as it was light until 9pm or so, went for an evening drive up Hurricane Ridge. This excellent birding road runs from sea-level to around 5000ft, with numerous safe places to stop. Unfortunately for me it was enshrouded in thick cloud from very nearly the start to the very top, so whilst I heard the mournful calls of Varied Thrush, I had no hope of getting a glimpse of one. Retracing my steps down the mountain I checked into my hotel a tired man, but excited about what the morning would bring – I had booked a Whale watching trip before leaving, and the waters of Puget and Juan de Fuca Sounds are amongst the best places in the world to get sightings of Orca.

I am Pomegranate

I've just been to a spa for the third time in my life. The second time was last night. The first time was at Heathrow about a week ago, which involved a lady trying to rip my spine out and which subsequently needed a great deal of Champagne to aid recovery, Luckily I had a nine hour flight, and so limped on board and mumbled something like "Grand Siècle and keep it coming" before collapsing. But clearly it wasn't mentally or physically damaging enough to put me off as I've just been twice on the trot. This is the new metrosexual me, and the most recent visits were wonderful. I'm not talking the kind of spa where people have bits of cucumber stapled to their faces, or are karate-chopped to within an inch of their life, though this is available too should you require it. The 'signature' treatment involves being lain in a bath and converted into a giant living piece of sushi with hebridean seaweed, but I didn't go for that either. Instead I went for something billed a thermal experience, with all sorts of different rooms of varying heats and latin names, as well as a couple of pools with SIGNIFICANT BUBBLES. In this respect it is somewhat similar to the turkish baths I once and never again went to somewhere in north London about ten years ago. Booked by a highly cultured friend keen on the finer things in life, and as a latin teacher someone in the know, a lowlight was entering one particular room to find one fat naked man whipping another comparably fat and identically naked man with some kind of stick contraption. I've never really recovered from seeing that and have not set foot in any remotely similar establishment since. Until yesterday.

I had a somewhat short turnaround from Poland to Glasgow, where I now am. Did I mention I went to Poland? No? Well, more on that later, but my three hours of sleep between airports did not have the kind of refreshing impact anticipated, and so after a solid day of work I retired to my hotel and noticed that it had a spa. I've stayed here many times before, so many times in fact that the loyalty points would get me a 52-piece cutlery set that I don't need. But I have never been to the spa. Colleagues who have also stayed here report that the spa is in fact the main selling point, whereas I had actually thought it was the bar. Not feeling in the mood for cocktails, and noting that the spa might have a relaxing effect conducive to the kind of sleep normally reserved for the dead, I shimmied into the provided bathrobe and headed to the dark recesses of the basement. And what a revelation! I enjoyed a pool with side-mounted and upper-back height water jets powerful enough to downgrade a certain lady at Terminal 5 to a mere tease, as well as a something billed as a vitality pool whose main draw was the ability to to create thigh farts at will and inflate my trunks in about three seconds flat to then cause a massive bubble explosion. Yes, I am very zen. There was a sauna which was too hot, and something called a saunarium which was bearable but incredibly boring. Top place however went to a steam room infused with pomegranate. No, really. It was like stepping into a tetrapak and then being microwaved. I swear that when I sneezed a pip came out. There was some guff on a sign near the door about pores, but reading it would have meant less time inhaling fruit. Wow! I am a convert, a slave to the lure of steam and tropical aromas. And with apologies to anyone visiting the Blythswood in search of purity, abundant health and things like that, pomegranate must have unique healing properties as the massive blister acquired in Poland slogging it up mountain tracks has almost completely disappeared. 

Snippets from the big wide world

Dealing with a few observations from recent times, this post is about dogs, massages, and twitter. All perfectly logical and highly complementary. I'll start with the dogs as it has been a while has it not? I've been saving this one up, not because I agree with it (go figure) but because I've been busy and then subsequently misplaced it. I found it again the other day tucked in a book, and it comes from the Science Editor of The Times - not a newspaper I normally I read but I found a free copy somewhere (a plane? Ed.) back in April. A bit of light-hearted science is applied to that most esteemed character, the dog owner who is so blinkered by their own inalienable and innate sense of right that they simply cannot  see any other point of view. Ever met anyone like that whilst out birding? No, neither have I.

A German academic, amusingly called Matthias Gross, has conducted a study lasting a decade which concludes that afternoon dog walkers are more likely to pick up their beloved pet's mess than their morning counterparts, who often pretend not to have seen their dog curl one out. You could argue that this particular fact only requires a week to work out, perhaps not even that long, but you have to admire the dedication. The study paper is titled "Natural Waste: canine companions and the lure of inattentively pooping in public", and I am urgently trying to find a copy.

The professor notes all sorts of behaviours that the likes of you and I will immediately recognise. Sudden earnest phone conversations for instance, termed "strategic non-knowledge". Or if a dog-walker does make the effort, the conscious over-the-shoulder look as they do so. He also notes that fabulous phenomenon of the "poo tree". Apparently in the ten years of the study he never once witnessed the ritual of hanging a poo bag on a tree. Thinking about it, neither have I, but a particularly brilliant quote highlights; "they [sic] conduct dirty protests against a society that oppresses their dog's right to defecate at will." He argues that it is an important way of rejecting social expectation by expressing their scorn with parody. I argue that it's being an asshole, but then I'm not a scientist. Where the Professor and I do share a view however is in trying to get to the true answer. But apparently dog owners declined to be interviewed. Who knew that The Times was so sensationalist? Approaches were frequently met with aggression, with friendlier responses being "mind your own business", and "don't you have anything better to do?" After ten years you may well agree with the latter point, but coming from someone who frequently challenges dog owners, all I can say is that if any of them were ever so measured and polite back to me I might easily faint there and then. Commoner responses can be summarised neatly as "Fuck off you prick", or alternatively "I'll do whatever I want, fuck you. (you prick)", but of course my favourites are the incredibly poorly constructed arguments as to why their dog, and by association themselves, ought to be able to do exactly what they want to the detriment of all other human beings and animals. I have enough material to fill a book, so it's disappointing that the study doesn't delve into these irrational outbursts as a psychoanalyst (or birder) could have a marvellous read. Nor does he explore the mythical dog-walker apology, but then again the study only lasted ten years so he can probably be forgiven. My most recent highlight from the field is being bitten on my watch by a passing puppy, the new dog of a grumpy man who lives on my road and who in ten years of walking past me has never exchanged so much as a single word. Well it turns out he's not mute after all, as after pulling the animal away from my wrist via a big smear of saliva and a nice red weal on my hand, was heard to say "come along Poppy*". My wry retort of "You could apologise" was not acknowledged. But I know where he lives, and I may deliver his poo back to him later as never once has he returned home with a bag. You are welcome.

In other social interaction of the heart-warming kind, this week I have been called out as a bird-hater, someone who is all talk no action, and an ass. Well, one of three isn't so bad I guess, but this particular story is so wonderful that it merits some kind of record for posterity, and if you read the news possibly Twitter, which is where this thoughtful exchange took place, may not be around for long. In summary it contains the worst of anthropomorphic drivel, high levels of stupidy, total non-acceptance of conventional wisdom, and a rapid spiral into abuse. I take it back actually, Twitter's commercial future is as rosy as it comes. 

Anyhow, one of my followers  - for the sake of anonymity let's call them halfwit - found two nearly-fledged birds close to a nest. Oh @Wansteadbirder, what should I do? Well let's see, I reckon you should pick them up, give them names, hand-rear them for a while, and then wait for the canonisation that will surely follow. I didn't say that of course, as I am not the facetious type. Instead I suggested that the birds be left alone, and shared an RSPB link to a long-standing FAQ about what to do in this situation, which in summary says "leave them alone" (just on the off-chance that anyone really really stupid out there hasn't grasped that fact yet). I also mentioned that unfortunately this does happen, and nature isn't necessarily all cuddles and happiness. This touched a nerve with halfwit, who went on the offensive immediately with a number of absurd statements, including various pathetic hashtags, accusing me of hating birds, calling me various expletives, and culminating in the insightful "If you get hurt in an accident I hope nobody calls an ambulance just like wot the poor birds won't", or something even less grammatically excellent. Obviously I did not respond in kind, but agreed that in posting the RSPB advice I did indeed hate birds, and that I was chuffed to bits that we had got to the ambulance bit so quickly. This irony fell on deaf ears, and the tirade unfortunately continued for some while, even involving a few genuine bird-lovers that I know, to whom my thanks. Oh sorry, my mistake, they all hate birds too. Nothing of course beats the ambulance tweet, but I did enjoy halfwit's courteous gratitude towards Prof W, who said to leave the birds alone and shared......the same RSPB link. Thank goodness that at least somebody was helpful. I was also advised by halfwit to give up my job, as obviously all people's Twitter account names reflect exactly what it is that they do in real life, oh yes. Two days later and still being called a twat I decided that the "block" feature might be usefully employed, so sadly any further gems won't be seen, or at least not by me. However I would ask that correspondents and readers keep me fully informed about anything that could surpass the crass idiocy of the ambulance tweet, as that would be special and a real shame to miss out on.

In other news I had a back massage. It hurt a lot and was indescribably awful in all respects. It came included with an airline ticket, but I remain utterly mystified as to why anyone would pay good money to simply be abused. Twitter, on the other hand, is free.

*name changed to protect the innocent guilty. Gosh I am being good today.

Washington State - Logistics and Itinerary

Logistics

• A seven day trip in early June (1^st – 7^th) booked many months in advance in order to secure a very nice seat using air miles. Timed to coincide with the arrival on territory of most of the region’s migratory breeders.
• British Airways flight to Vancouver departed 1715h on Sunday evening, arriving at 1855h Pacific time. In an ideal world I would have flown to Seattle, but couldn’t find the tickets I wanted. Rather than setting off for Washington that same evening, I elected instead to stay in a hotel overnight and start early on Monday morning, birding my way down the coast. This also had the advantage of a daytime Fort Casey – Port Townsend ferry crossing, a channel thick with Auks. The return on Sunday evening arrived mid-morning London time on Monday, so I was able to do half a day at work. Lucky me.
• Car hire via Avis was a brand new GMC Terrain, billed in North America as a small SUV, but actually is absolutely massive. It ended up being a great choice as I spent a lot of time on unmetalled roads that I would not have been confident on in a small saloon. My only complaint was luggage could not be hidden, so presumably I had no insurance on my trip.
• I booked all hotels in advance, partly to recoup a portion of the massive amount of air miles I spent. In retrospect it may have worked better to book nothing and simply go with the weather, which was poor for the first couple of days and had I not had pre-paid bookings I may have moved east earlier. On the other hand the weather only really impacted photography, and my fixed itinerary, including a pre-booked boat trip, meant that I birded all the varied habitats that I wanted to hit, rather than getting bogged down in one place.
• One of the major draws of this area, for me at least, was the possibility of Whale watching and deep sea pelagic trips. The latter are irregular this early in the season and the timings didn’t work out, however the Orca trips were in full swing and you get a bit of seabird action as a bonus. It’s essential to pre-book, but also to have a reserve day in case you don’t see the whales the first time. Many of the boat operators offer you a free place the next day if you fail to see them, so if you want to do this build it into your schedule with a birding alternative should it not be necessary.
• The USA is wifi’d to the max. I simply loaded up my tablet with maps of the area I was visiting on the following day and off I went using just GPS.
• Research was monumental as always. My main sources of information were the excellent trip reports on the Pacific NW and the Cascades published by VENT and uploaded onto the Cloudbirders website. They run regular tours at this time of year, and the reports go back a number of years. I’m not a tour birder, but I essentially copied their itineraries, squeezing two week-long trips into one week, spending the first three days on the Olympic Peninsula, and the final three days in the Cascades Range and the drier habitat to its east. I’m also grateful to Rich B for info on some of the places he visited on a similar trip.
• Not having birded the west coast before, the Audubon Pro app was a critical companion to the Sibley guide, particularly the vocalisations, all of which were unfamiliar to me. Birding in a new location without a local guide is both exciting and frustrating, but being able to tentatively try out calls or songs of species that I thought I might be hearing proved very valuable indeed. Note that this requires internet access to function, but a great many of the calls and songs seem to be able to be stored in phone memory, so simply play the ones you’re likely to want in your hotel room the previous evening and they will be there for you the following day. I only really used this for more secretive species or those that stayed high up in trees, as “pishing” in the US works an absolute treat on many bird families – I found it particularly effective on Warblers and Vireos, all of which popped out at point blank range for easy IDs and in some instances, photos.
• If general birding doesn’t turn up what you’re looking for, Ebird is a pretty great resource. You can easily find recent local sightings by species, and this gave me new locations to try which ended up with new birds a couple of times.

Slumming it across the Atlantic

Itinerary

Day 0: Flight arrived at 1855h, and I was all tucked up in the airport Westin by 8pm ready for an early start on Monday.

Day 1: Picked up car at 6am, and drove south on Highway 99 into Washington, USA, where the road becomes the I-5. No queue at the US border crossing at this time, but be aware that at peak times this can take up to four hours, which would easily ruin a birding day. Birded Deception Pass and the wetland area at Crockett Lake on Whidbey Island, before taking the short ferry to from Fort Casey to Port Townsend on the Olympic peninsula. Birded Dungeness and other coastal areas until dark. Hotel in Port Angeles.

Day 2: Early morning at Diamond Point where weather poor, followed by Whale Watching from Port Townsend until 3.30pm. Whale success in Canadian waters having passed right through the San Juan Islands. Late afternoon inland at Crocker Lake and West Uncas Road, with evening drive up Hurricane Ridge in poor weather. Overnight in Port Angeles again, booked in case of repeat Whale watching but also close to Hurricane Ridge.

Day 3: Dawn drive up Hurricane Ridge in deteriorating weather, but it held for long enough to see some decent birds. Ediz Hook disappointed briefly before the long drive anti-clockwise around the Olympic peninsula to Aberdeen via La Push and Ocean Shores. Motel in Tacoma.

Day 4: I-90 east, with birding stops at Lake Sammanish, Denny Creek, Roslyn and Cle Elum. Afternoon birding south of Ellensburg into Sagebrush habitat, then I-97 north to Leavenworth via Bettas Prairie. Evening birding up Icicle Canyon, hotel in Leavenworth.

Day 5: Another early start, birding Swakane Canyon east (bottom) to west (top) until 1pm. Afternoon birding along Camas Creek and Peshastin Creek, with an evening drive back up Swakane Canyon. Motel in Wenatchee.

Day 6: Swakane Canyon again (it was very good!) before driving to Quincy Lakes. Afternoon at Potholes Reservoir and Moses Lake area, before heading west on I-90 back to Ellensburg. Diversion up Umtanum canyon before long drive back west over the pass on the I-90 to Seattle, and then north on the I-5 to Vancouver, crossing the border just after midnight (again, no queue) and arriving at 1.30am!

Day 7: A bit of a lie in, and then mid-morning birding at Lighthouse Park in north west Vancouver, followed by quick stops at Tsawwassen and Reifel Reserve south of the city. Then back to the airport at 4.35pm for a 6pm flight back to London.

Map of the area visited, with the main birding spots highlighted.

Varied Birding (more travels)

So, I've been away again. Possibly it is time to rename the Blog. "Sometimes Wanstead Birder" has a certain ring to it. Then again so does "Hardly ever Wanstead Birder". So too does "Never.....". That said, local birding has been indescribably DULL throughout May and what we've seen of June so far. April was fantastic of course, so it's not like we didn't get a bit of migration action, it's just that May in theory ought to be even better. But birding always has the capacity to surprise, not necessarily in a good way. Who would have thought for example that this spring would see both Hudsonian Godwit and Hudsonian Whimbrel. The latter is sat somewhere in Sussex as I type this. I couldn't get there due to work, but I am generally pretty sanguine about this kind of thing. And anyway, I am still recovering from the excitement of the sleeping Godwit. I'm all for variety (of foreign locations) in birding, and the ability not to focus on any one thing to the detriment of others (except the patch of course!) has always been an advantage as I see it. So after a welcome 12 hours at home after Fuerteventura, this past week I've been in the Pacific Northwest, specifically in Washington State with a teensy bit of British Columbia thrown in at the start and finish. 

In many ways it was my ideal kind of trip. A new location with stacks of new and interesting birds, a variety of habitats to explore, and a week with no limitations whatsoever. If I wanted to bird a location for several hours, I could. If I wanted to spend two hours photographing a single bird, I could. If I wanted to drive for a few hours to a different site, that too was entirely possible. Complete freedom to do whatever floated my boat in other words, but also with a plan in mind, and a clear list of places to go and birds to try and see. The planning phase to me is almost as interesting and exciting as the executing of the plan, and this part went swimmingly - superb in every respect. It may surprise you that I used my bins and scope equally if not more than my camera, it was primarily a birding trip. So of 155 species seen, I've probably got photos of only 20, which is fine by me. In hindsight, and as always, I tried to do too much. There's a lot of light at this time of year, and I caned it every single day, with early starts and late finishes. And I drove 1,600 miles in six days, which averages to a lot, although it didn't feel like it apart from on the final day when I needed to be in Vancouver in the evening but found myself still birding considerably east of the Cascades at 8pm. My 1.30am arrival in Canada put paid to my early morning birding on the final day, but I still found the time to get half a dozen new species and was birding up to almost the final minute, making the plane with a quarter of an hour to spare. That said, I reckon it might have waited for me ;-)

Highlights were many, and this is a trip worthy of a massive day by day report, which will follow in due course as I'm away again at the weekend.... Of particular note were two non-birds. A boat trip out to the San Juans to see Killer Whales was superb, resulting in fantastic views of at least six of these magnificent creatures. And then finding a Rattlesnake crossing my path in the Entiat mountains was a real treat, and included some extremely cautious photography. 

On the bird front, top place has to go to Varied Thrush. This stonker of a bird is a real NW speciality and was my top target of the trip. It is also a proper skulker, and in suitable habitat I heard them all over the place but never saw one. Thick fog and cloud in most of those locations didn't help matters, but even in clear weather they remained invisible. The haunting calls are brilliant but of course rather frustrating. However on day four at a place called Denny Creek (east over the Cascades off I-90) all that changed. I rounded a huge pine on the corner of the path and a bird flew up. Initially I didn't know what it was, it was very dark in there and it had been too quick. But I was convinced it hadn't flown more than a couple of meters, and so I cautiously poked my head around the trunk and was blown away. Absolutely beautiful. And it just sat there, with its beak full of food, looking back at me. I had my camera fortunately - as mentioned that wasn't always the case on this trip - and so tried a few speculative shots in the gloom. Even an orange blur would have been OK, but look what I got! This photo was taken at 1/40s, at 910mm in old money. I've lightened it up in photoshop and applied a bit of sharpening, but sitting here I'm blown away at how it came out. This of course is testament to my upper body physique, where really only Arnie is my equal. I am steady as a rock, my arms are like tree trunks - Ponderosa Pines to be exact. Who knows how this worked? The image stabiliser is a huge help of course, but largely it's probably to do with luck. The shutter sounding terrible, in a series of blurry messes the odd tolerably sharp one will emerge out of the blue, and this is one of those. But getting past the geeky crap, just look at this belter of a bird and be stunned at how lovely it is. A special moment.

Wanstead Bird Reports

Nick and Tim have produced another astonishingly good bird report for 2014, which you can view by clicking the image below, or if here that doesn't work. A work of love, amazing for what is an urban local patch, it shows quite how much hard work people put in on the patch, and how fortunate we are to have such a dedicated bunch of observers - the patch is large but the coverage is extremely good. The gradual build-up of decent records can be seen on the Wansteadbirding blog's Report Page. Success breeds success it seems, more reports equals more observers, equals more birds found. So it is with great timing that the BBRC just accepted last year's Blyth's Reed Warbler. Get in! 

Family holiday with absolutely no ulterior motive whatsoever

So, I've just returned from an extremely successful family holiday to Fuerteventura. Sun, swimming pools, happy children, calm wife. Sorry, I mean Houbara Bustard and Canary Island Chat scored for my Western Pal list. And with some ease I might add, and with fabulous views I jest of course, this was a holiday basically about flopping about in the sun and doing very little, although I have to confess to choosing the island for said flopping very carefully indeed..... 

I won't be doing a trip report as such, this truly was a holiday. We were down at Jandia, staying at the northern end of Morro Jable in a typical Costa del family hotel - Iberostar, and if you are like me a birding dad, these hotels are brilliant. It had the advantage of being a mere ten minutes drive from the sandy plain that bisects the Jandia peninsula between Costa Calma and La Pared, and so on the second morning there I got up before breakfast and went for a little look, this was after all the entire point of the holiday ;-). I ditched the car at the end of the town and proceeded on foot in the pre-dawn. Lesser Short-toed Lark were abundant, whilst three Black-bellied Sandgrouse flushed from somewhere ahead. The real target eluded me for two hours however, before I crested a ridge and spied two distant Houbara. They also spied me, and immediately ran full pelt the other way, despite there already being 300m between us. I gave chase, but the birds melted into the landscape never to be seen again. Still, tick and run as they say, with me doing the ticking and the birds doing all the running. I trekked back to the car, via an interesting Stone Curlew and a koenigii Grey Shrike that was very posy. So, breakfast or a quick search for the Chat? Easy decision, and I headed back east along the FV2 to the hotel....turning right at the first barranco I came to!! This was called Pecenescal, and is just after the turning to Risco del Paso. I'd read that these dry valleys were the favoured habitat, and so it was no surprise after only a couple of km to hear the typical Stonechat calls. Four birds were present, and one responded magnificently to my pathetic attempts at "tukking" (I don't have any mp3s of the Macaronesian species for some reason despite having a Western Pal set of discs) coming in very close. So, in one morning both of the specialty species bagged, this is what family holidays are all about.

I made a couple more early morning forays to both this barranco and the plains, but the Chats never played ball again. I found a different pair up at Los Molinos reservoir that also quite like my noises, but for some reason the males were a lot harder to convince and remained too distant for the camera. However by far the majority of the week was spent doing diddly squat on a sun-lounger. Birds recorded in this manner included Barbary Falcon, Sacred and Hadada Ibis (both presumably escapees), House Martin, Swallow, Swift, Monk Parakeet, Spanish Sparrow, Berthelot's Pipit, Chiffchaff and Spotted Flycatcher. I think I notched up something like 40 species all in all, so a meagre total but with decent views of quite a lot. The plains were actually very difficult. In the course of three two hour visits I found three Houbara (the final one from the car and a lot closer), four Sandgrouse, one Stone Curlew, and zero Coursers. I can say with some confidence that by far the best tactic to employ is blind luck. Just wander around and hope basically, I got just lucky enough for what I wanted. Some decent photo ops as well, as I hope you can see - I don't always lug a large white lens on family holidays, but I am glad I did this time!