The shortest day, the shortest year, the best bird

Hard to believe we're here again, but here we are. A year ago, more or less, I was lying on my front in a Yorkshire puddle whilst photographing an Ivory Gull. I had thought that would be it for the year, but a week later I was in the south-west for a Dorset-Devon double-header, with first Brunnich's Guillemot and then a White-billed Diver. Looking back, it was a fabulous three weeks, and this December hasn't lived up to it at all, though there is a Blyth's Pipit knocking about that I cannot get excited about, fabulous inland find though it undoubtedly is. No, this December I've been content to knock around Wanstead, and most weekend days have been spent at home doing not very much. That's fine by me, my schedule can be pretty gruelling and some slack days are much appreciated. Not long to go before 2015 kicks off, and as from tomorrow the northern hemisphere starts its slow tilt back towards the sun. Normally I get a little sad as the year passes away, the trigger is usually when the clocks go through their autumn change, and that following Monday I'm sat at my desk bemoaning the 4pm darkness.

This year I've barely noticed the long march towards winter, engrossed in other things I suppose, but if you look at it in bird terms, it has been very quiet indeed compared to last year. In 2013 I gained eight lifers from October onwards, including four in December. In 2013 that number has been zero. Two in September, a Rustic Bunting on Shetland and a smash-and-grab raid on the Spurn Masked Shrike, and then nothing since. The two years could barely have been more different, and that late surge meant that 2013 was a lot more profitable than this year has been. 15 vs 10 is the final score, unless something dramatic happens. These days it is unlikely that my annual lifer total will start going up, but that's still a pretty hefty decline, and one that if projected sees me fizzle out on 429 in 2017, and then add a bird per decade. I'll hit 500 when I'm 500. Mind you, by that time a decent yearlist will be about 25 as most things will be extinct apart from Parakeets.

I usually do this in one post, but I make eke it out over the course of a few and thus up my steadily shrinking post count. Favourite bird of 2014? Last year the UK prize went to an Izzy Wheatear. This year it could easily go to the Kent Desert Wheatear, but I think for sheer buzz it has to be a rogue male Caper that I stopped in on between the American Coot and the American Black Duck. Odd that neither of those two should feature.... Many many people went to admire this amazing bird as the news spread (not from me I should add) - in my case I went in February before the breeding season kicked off and before the bird got too crazed from rising testosterone levels, but it was still a terrifying experience and I was left in absolutely no doubt as to where his territory was and where I should stay. I crossed that invisible line and was resolutely chased off, but if I stayed a short distance up a certain slope, only a few metres back, I was no longer viewed as a threat or a mating prospect and he strutted off to elsewhere on 'his' turf. An amazing experience with magnificent bird and one I'll not forget for a very long time.

 

Tripping out

As the year draws to a close, it's time to look back and see what I've done, where I've been, what I've seen. Anyone who looks at these pages even infrequently will realise I get through my fair share of travel, and as I look back I find it incredible to see quite how much I have crammed in. And it's not like my job got any easier either, it was the most mental year I think I have ever experienced. Work hard play hard, and it's true. Those hours behind a desk spur me on to get out amongst it as often as I can - as such most months have seen a small expedition somewhere in pursuit of birds. It keeps me going.

Although usually long weekends, I've tended to be very rigorous in the planning stages, and that combined with fortunate weather has meant that even on the shortest of trips I've seen loads of birds, often really well - this is a lot easier than in the south-east of England as by and large there are just far fewer people where I go. Hong Kong is of course the exception, and surprise surprise, I saw far fewer birds there during a week away than would have been the case in a less developed place. That said it was completely wonderful, and birding took an unusual back seat.

January - Morocco
February - Morocco
March - Cyprus
May - Hong Kong
June - Iceland
July - Finland
August - Sweden
September - Shetland
November - Tenerife
December - Morocco

The full list is here, and as you can see, Morocco is the destination of choice. I reckon I have a couple more trips there at some point, specifically the north coast for Marsh Owl, and then a longer trip down to the Western Sahara. However have you noticed the big gap above? Gaps plural? April and October are missing!! What happened there?! Terrible, I must try harder. 

That said, 2015 will likely see less frequent travel, as we already have a lot of family holidays planned, including the five of us heading off to Hong Kong. And whilst booking a ticket somewhere is the easy part, finding the time to do so is rather more challenging.That's not to say it will be a blank year, far from it, and some things I'm already looking forward to are the west coast of the USA, as well as two short trips to Poland and Madeira for specific targets. 

Death and Despair. No Biscuits.

Where I work there are televisions that are always on. One is always in my line of sight if I am looking at my computer screens. If I turn around to get away from it, another appears instead. In the 360 degrees from my desk, I can see seven televisions, and every single one of them, despite no sound, is feeding me a diet of bad news. Constant bad news. Constant unpleasant bad news. Unless I’m in a meeting somewhere, my day is completely dominated by whatever atrocity or disaster is currently befalling the world. It does not do much for my well-being is the conclusion I am reaching. I don’t know about you, but as I age I seem to slowly but surely become more sensitive to sad and bad things happening. I never used to be like this, and really you would expect that the constant in-your-face aspect of today’s news services, often beaming you tragedy live and as it happens would harden you to it. Toughen you up. Yet it is the opposite, and there are some stories that I end up with a lump in my throat. They can be global news stories where you see a child’s body under a sheet, or they can be reading Michael Clarke’s address from Philip Hughes’ funeral. Perhaps it is to do with having children, perhaps it is to do with my own mortality, as so famously penned in song by Pink Floyd. Shorter of breath, one day closer to death.

I’m trying to work, but I’m surrounded by death. Seemingly news is not news unless somebody has died. Preferably lots of people. Yesterday I was pumped ten hours of the siege at that café in Sydney. As terrified people ran out of the building, so I saw them run. Then I saw the repeats of them running. Again and again. I saw the SWAT team going in and the flashes of gunfine. Again and again. And I saw the wounded being carried out. Today I’m being fed live updates from Peshawar, where religiously-motivated gunmen have just killed 130 children in some kind of revenge attack, part of an ever-increasing spiral of violence. Children, shot in their classrooms in cold blood. To say it is harrowing is to belittle it, I am speechless. I spent the summer watching Ebola unfold, with light relief provided by the periodic beheading of western hostages in Syria and Iraq. I saw the candle-lit vigils, and then the stills from the videos and the men in black with balaclavas on. I get aerial footage of M25 crash scenes, I get capsized ferries and cruise liners, I get downed airliners. Rape, murder and child abuse are all quotidian.

Occasionally, very occasionally, the BBC feel sorry for the viewer and stick on a feel good story. Or indeed comedy, for instance when UKIP take part in a by-election, or when FIFA release a report into their own activities. This is very rare, but the other day there was a piece, repeated pleasingly often, about baby seals, replete with extensive footage of baby seals looking adorable. This was heart-warming, and I watched it as often as I could, transfixed by the deep black eyes of the pups. But of course it was a story about orphaned seal pups being hand-reared back to health, so the sub-text was still DEATH. And as I type the BBC is now telling me that one of the last Northern White Rhinos has died in captivity. Ideally they’ll follow this up with a story about poaching, and show a few dead and mutilated animals bleeding in some dry acacia-dotted scrubland. Breaking News they call it. I’m sick of it.

I know what you’re thinking. Get up and turn the TV off. I would, believe me I would, but they’re suspended from the ceiling and I can’t reach the buttons.

No more trips this year!!

I'm all done! No more trips for the whole rest of the year! I know, how will I cope? Well, cabin fever is a distinct possibility, but I have a solid seven days at work before my next break, or four if you count going to Edinburgh. The good news is that this means that I will be birding Wanstead comprehensively and continuously. Between my house and the bus stop mostly, but I am intrigued by the news of a Water Rail on the Shoulder of Mutton Pond. Will I go and have a look for it? Well, only time will tell I suppose. Work hard play hard seems to be the order of the day, and that unfortunately leaves little time for the patch. Hopefully I'll redress the balance a little next year, but Heathrow is only an hour and a bit away.....

So what has been happening? Well, Tenerife happened, which was very pleasant, and as you may have seen, so did Morocco. Both very productive little trips, with birds way better than here. Mind you, this time last year, or perhaps it was during the first winter season, not sure, I was fully engrossed in some amazing UK birds, including a fabulously showy Black-bellied Dipper and a local Slavonian Grebe. That's the kind of thing I'd like to do more of, but finding those types of birds is a rare chance indeed. Hopefully we'll get a cold snap, a bit of a freeze up, and I'll be able to get up close and personal with some wildfowl. I like winter, especially the cold clear days where you get decent light and the temperature keeps most other people indoors. Crossing my fingers. 

But even without that prospect, I remain pretty stacked. Last week was three Christmas parties on the trot, two in London on Wednesday and Thursday, with another in Glasgow on Friday. It's not just that I'm wildly popular, it's also because I'm the boss and they have to invite me. Not really. Well, I am in charge of a few people as befits a man of my advanced years, but rather it's a chance for the department to let their hair down and have a rare evening not talking about work. Even if we did talk about work most of the time. A riotous affair Thursday, obviously, culminating in a 1am (I know how to live, me) arrival home and an angry wife. Angry wife again, as this was preceded by the East London Birders Drinks, with typical levels of stupidity, and flying hot towels. We really are the Wild Bunch, and I can confirm that Mrs L does not appreciate cold drunken men invading lovely warm beds in the small hours. Even if they're me! Friday night was in Glasgow, but by then I was a shadow of my former self and didn't even make it 'til midnight. Partly this was to do with a Chicken Tikka Pakora of such immense proportions that I could barely move after eating it, but mainly it was to do with being totally shattered. I am not as young as I used to be, and this shows no signs of improving. 

Luckily I had a quiet weekend back in London as a fully-fledged domestic goddess before gratefully hitting Canary Wharf again this morning, as much for a rest as anything else. Apart from not getting home until gone 8am and then spending half an hour picking things up of the floor, as is typical of an evening. I particularly want to let people know how much I enjoy stacking the dishwasher after an 11 hour day at work, it really takes the edge off my stress levels - wonderfully therapeutic. What I am really trying to say is that I am in dire need of a holiday.

Morocco - Trip Report

Logistics

·        A two day trip in early December (6^th – 8^th) booked in a fit of enthusiasm during a British Airways flight sale. No particular targets, just an expectation to pootle around and point the camera at stuff, much like my trip back in January.Two up, with Andrew M for the first time.

·        BA flight to Marrakech (RAK) from Gatwick departed 1250h on Saturday morning, arriving at around 1630h. At the time of booking this had been an early morning departure arriving at lunchtime, but this flight was axed from the schedule a few months later. I could have cancelled, but decided not to. Nonetheless it shortened the holiday by half a day, so I shall in future be looking at other airlines for this route.

·        Car hire via Avis was a clapped out Peugeot 206 that took a full 90 minutes to claim, an hour to give back, and came with zero petrol in it. I cannot remember a shittier car hire experience. Last time I used a local company, Medloc, and having now experienced the lackadaisical competition I will use them again. £94 and the doors didn't even close properly.  

·        No accommodation booked in advance, but I had two places in mind. The first was the Camping Sidi Wassay just north of Massa on the south side of the river, used back in Feb, where a small hobbit dwelling set us back approx £18, and then the Coq Hardi in Ait Ourir for the second night, which was £16 each including breakfast. We arrived at unannounced at 2330h and 2200h respectively, and had no trouble sorting out rooms at either place.

·        Research was unnecessary, as I'd been to all the places before, but I would have done well to read the news before leaving, as had I done so I would have learned about the incredible rain and subsequent flooding in southern Morocco, and may have changed the itinerary. The Massa and many other places have been devastated by floodwaters surging down from the mountains, and whilst we were still able to pursue the original plan, it was nowhere near as easy. A number of roads that I had planned to drive, both in the Massa and the Atlas foothills, had had bridges washed away and were thus impassable.

·        Ate mostly oranges and drank mostly water - an exceedingly cheap survival strategy! In fact the whole trip was stupidly cheap, spending under £100 each which included all accommodation, all food, petrol and motorway tolls. No police bribes for 'speeding' were necessary this time, but I was being particularly paranoid.

Itinerary

Day 1: Flight arrived at 1630h, and then wasted over an hour faffing with Avis thus missing all daylight. Missed the quick route out of Marrakech and arrived in the Massa just after 2300h.

Day 2: Birded the Oued Massa all morning, explored the Oued Souss in the afternoon, and then drove to Ait Ourir in the dark.

Day 3: Drove the backroads looking for photographic opportunities until about 1430h, when we headed for Menara airport and home.

Day 1
By the time we had managed to get a car off the cretins at Avis it was dark, and so all that remained was to drive to our destination in the Oued Massa. This took far longer than anticipated, and even in the dark it was clear that the heavy rains must have taken their toll. At the Sidi Wassay camping we sourced a dank hobbit cabana thing that had clearly soaked up a great deal of moisture, but were so shattered that it made no difference.

Day 2
A fine day by the looks of it, with Linnet flying round the campsite and a Moussier's Redstart perched on a German campervan's wing mirror. Up and out quite quickly we tried some of the same fields as last time for Bald Ibis, but drew a blank and instead were diverted by numerous Thekla Larks feeding nearby. As we crested the hill, the sight of the Massa drew our breath away - devastated, the delicate system of drainage and irrigation overwhelmed and destroyed. Birds a plenty, but penetrating into the maze of small fields proved practically impossible. At one point we had to jump what had been a path but was now a stream, and balance along the top of some of the remaining dykes to pick our way back to dry land. A Bluethroat was a pleasing find, though rather skulky - nothing that Photoshop cannot sort out though..... Other than that the usual denizens were present a correct in the post-diluvian morass - Bulbuls chattering away, Tchagras fluting, and numerous Stonechats and Sardinian Warblers, including some very obliging birds that made our struggle with floodwaters very worthwhile. We whiled away most of the day here before trying out the Oued Souss a little further north. This was nowhere near as good, but we were operating on no gen whatsoever, whereas the Massa was known quite well, despite its watery reshaping. With the light fading we skirted Agadir and crossed over the western part of the Atlas and back to Marrakech, getting hopelessly lost in the city before popping out of the other side and onto the road to Oukaimaden. It took until the road started to climb into the mountains for me to realise we had wanted the road to Ouzarzate, but this was easily corrected and we pulled into the Coq Hardi in Ait Ourir at around half ten. Whilst the previous night we had fallen asleep to the sound of the Atlantic, here we had the raging Oued Zatt, still in full flow a week after the rains. 

Day 3
After a fine breakfast we started exploring the nearby hills, just as I had done earlier in January. The Zatt was indeed in full flow, I've never seen so much as a single drop in it on any previous trip. We headed up on the P2021 through the Iggrouka forest and onto the plain above, seeing numerous Shrikes and other birds beside the road. Best of all was a Black Wheatear near Towouret, which I spied from miles away as it perched up distinctively on some cairns. The short hike up the slope to its territory was well worth it, and meant that we didn't need to risk the drive over the mountains further east where I knew there was another pair. In the event that was impossible anyway, as the bridge between Timezguida and Timzilite had been washed away by the torrent. Although not as bad as the Guelmin and Agadir area, clearly the impact of floods here had also been substantial.

One of the ex-bridges in the lower Atlas

So, turning around we had no choice but to head back to Ait Ourir. The usual White Storks circled the dump, and we took the P2010 out of town in the hope of coming across some bird-attracting irrigation in the fields. A roadside LRP and White Wagtail entertained for a while, but it was all about the Shrikes, which were stationed very regularly along the larger R210 road back west towards Marrakech. Soon however it was time to pack up and head for the airport - the flight departed at half five, and our short trip was at an end.

More shenanigans at the airport with Avis, who truly hit rock bottom. Mind you, this is a first world problem, think of those locals having to deal with rebuilding homes and fields. Easy flight back, I had my pick of passport officers at Gatwick and was back in the car so soon after landing I thought it might have all been a dream. The trip list was not high, perhaps mid-fifties, but plenty of decent images to wade through.

Averagely-loaded Moroccan truck. 

Trip List = 53 (presented in the order seen)

House Bunting - at the airport!

Spotless Starling - around Sidi Wassay campsite and elsewhere in the Massa

Kestrel

Pied Wagtail

Moussier's Redstart

Linnet

Lesser Black-backed Gull - along the coast and at Oued Sous

Yellow-legged Gull - ditto

Thekla Lark - any stony ground

Southern Grey Shrike - common roadside bird around Marrakech

Black-winged Stilt - Oued Massa

Common Sandpiper - Oued Massa

Flamingo - in flight at Sidi Wassay

Cattle Egret

Little Egret

Grey Heron

Collared Dove

Common Bulbul

Black-crowned Tchagra - close to the river at Oued Massa

Stonechat

Chiffchaff

Zitting Cisticola

Meadow Pipit

Bluethroat - skulking in crops in the Massa

Yellow Wagtail

Chaffinch

Blackcap

Sardinian Warbler

Glossy Ibis - several flocks Oued Massa

Serin - Oued Massa 

Swallow

Moorhen

Cirl Bunting - uncommon Oued Massa

House Sparrow

Spanish Sparrow

Laughing Dove - Oued Massa

Magpie - large flock near Oued Sous

Peregrine - Oued Sous

Cormorant

Black-headed Gull

Spoonbill - one at Oued Sous

White Stork - Oued Sous, and hundreds circling Ait Ourir dump

Sandwich Tern - one Oued Sous

Mediterranean Gull - one Oued Sous

Black Redstart

Black Stork - mirgating at dusk over the Atlas!

Pigeon

Greenfinch

Goldfinch

Crossbill - in Iggrouka forest

Woodpigeon - in Iggrouka forest

Black Wheatear - near Towourte

Long-legged Buzzard - Ighrisse Ait Faska

Little Ringed Plover - puddles east of Marrakech on R210

Morocco again

Sorry, but I like it. I like it a lot better than here actually. Specifically there are lots of birds and very few people. Whereas in the UK if you go birding and are lucky enough to actually see a bird, no matter where you go the experience is soon ruined by dog-walkers, holier-than-thous, or the general twattishness of broad segments of the UK population. In Morocco, if you pick your spot you occasionally get interrupted by someone wanting money off you, but that's about it. It's altogether far better for actually enjoying the birds, which some would argue is the entire point. In the UK that's somewhat secondary, it seems to be all about perception and conformance. Possibly I'm just a bit bitter, but be that as it may, birding abroad is an a much more satisfying experience than birding here. And it's mostly warm, which counts for a lot. Also, there are no Shrikes in the UK, hence I go abroad to places where there are Shrikes. If there is a counter-argument on the Shrike front I'd like to hear it.

Time being a very limiting factor in my personal situation, this was another absurdly short trip, with less than 48 hours in the country. I can accomplish a lot in 48 hours. For instance getting up close and personal with Shrikes. In the UK on the rare occasion you get to see a Shrike, it's often in the company of fifty other people, and could easily be a hundred yards away across a field. In Morocco they're simply part of the landscape, omnipresent, and you just stop your car when you see one and then just lap up it's sheer awesomeness for as long as you want. Or as long as you can manage before risking missing your flight....

Oh, and some of other birds are rather nice too. I'll do a trip report in due course, but for now I can simply say that I saw nothing hugely rare, that my life list has increased by precisely zero, but that it was phenomenal once again - my third trip this year. I reckon I know enough about the region now that I could lead a tour (that's how easy it is!). Bookings can be made via the comments box below, and my rates are very reasonable. Oranges free.

In praise of Lego

Not that Lego......real Lego. Birders, tchah! No, real, actual plastic Lego - bricks, plates, tiles and bars. The toy of champions, and I love it. Yes I still play with Lego, and I'm not ashamed. It's one of the principal reasons I had children actually, so that I needn't come across as all weird and nerdy. Consequently, rather than in spite of, we have a lot of Lego in the house. Seriously loads. For instance there's a Lego Mos Eisley in the front room that measures a good 4 feet by 4 feet, and has seen many years of love despite it being a wretched hive of scum and villany. But we have nothing on some people, oh no. This weekend the kids and I went to Brick 2014, a Lego exhibition at Excel populated by dysfunctional dweebs amazingly talented grown-ups.

We were blown away. The dedication of these people is sensational, I thought I was committed to some of the things I enjoy. I have nothing on these guys, nothing. I am a pale imitation, my particular brand of OCD a mere shadow of what it could be. This is obsession on a whole new level, these guys would make amazing twitchers if it ever occured to them. Anyone remember this famous National Geographic cover?

What about Westminster Abbey?


I could go on and on. Three hours passed in a blur, especially the final thirty minutes when I lost a child. Some free advice for any other parents out there - monstrously large exhibitions are not the place to lose a ten year old boy. Of course we hadn't arranged a meeting point if we were separated. Or any kind of scenario planning whatsoever. All of a sudden he's nowhere to be seen, in a room the size of a football field populated by thousands of small people his exact size. Parenting fail. I got him back of course, wasn't worried for a moment, ahem, but FFS. But back to the Lego, I want to give up work, downgrade my house to a bungalow somewhere, and purchase half a million bricks, there to spend the rest of my life building the most amazing dioramas in the hope of being invited to sit behind railings in huge exhibition halls being admired by loads of kids. And their dads....

Here's a selection, including birds so that I can keep this blog resolutely on topic!