Senegal. A fourth helping. Something of a mixed course.

After a few days at Lampsar, we were back in the rattletrap bus and heading back to Diadiam III - for reasons not quite clear to me, we stayed in different accommodation - this time the Campement Bidiel in the centre of the village - for some ringing around the biological station at the park entrance. This entailed a brisk walk of about 1.5 km to get the nets opened in the morning, then a walk back for breakfast for 8 and back again for the next few hours, then back again when we packed up in the heat of the day. 

From the back of the van this time. Note the securely-latched back door.

As you might imagine, breakfast back at the lodge soon fell by the wayside (the food in Senegal was perfectly fine, but the breakfasts were generally the least interesting option, being baguette with either mango jam, hibiscus jam (delicious, highly recommended) or mystery jam plus instant coffee). The loss of the lodge breakfast was eased by discovery of a lovely lady with a kiosk at the entrance to the park, who sold coffee (also instant, but what the hell) and made omelette sandwiches on a half baguette for the princely sum of €1.30 for the whole package.

Coffee at the kiosk!

 

The other significant flaw with ringing here was the wind. The entire time we spent here, the wind was up and blasting by 9 at the latest. Given sunrise is only at 7:15 and there was really no pre-dawn activity, this left a really small window available for ringing. What about the afternoon, I hear you ask (really!) Well, by the time the heat was out of the day there was probably an hour, max two for ringing. 

The harmattan kept us dusty most days

 

The idea had been to put up nets in the thorn scrub near the village, but this produced next to nothing the first couple of evenings, and by that point there was little enthusiasm for traipsing round empty nets every 20 minutes, so - aside from one net aiming for nightjars and other oddities - the idea was shelved. So, I ended up doing a lot more exploring of the thorn scrub to the south of Diadiam III than I'd expected, but this was not really such a bad thing. I've never really had the chance to walk and wander at will in Africa before, so the chance to wander off, explore even a small area and see what was out there was too good to ignore.

A trek across the bleak saltflats to the east of the village took me to another shallow pool, drying gradually out. The biggest inhabitants were a herd of donkeys, who weren't too impressed with my presence, but didn't go rushing off into the distance either. They just kept a wary eye on me, presumably in case I attempted to rope one up. The usual assortment of waders was hanging out on the mud: mainly Wood Sandpipers and Little Stints, but a little group of Kentish Plovers trying to blend with the sand made a nice addition. A Grey Heron lurked in the middle of the pool, keeping itself well away from both me and an intruding Purple Heron. 

Kentish Plovers - a long way from Kent

Nicest of all, an Osprey was hunkered down on the ground at the other end of the pool. After a while it got fed up with me watching it and headed off northwards. I worked my way gradually around the pool, just to see what was around. The north side was linked to a zigzag series of wet ditches, mainly banked high and thickly grown with tamarisk, but occasionally with tramped patches where animals had been crossing. The dragonfly fauna was as disappointing as before: mainly Crocothemis erythraea and the ever-present Ischnura senegalensis; just a lone Orthetrum (sp.) to add variety. Part-way along the ditches I heard a whistle, then saw a man striding through the bushes towards me. To be honest I was expecting to be told that I was somewhere that I shouldn't be, but he just wanted to know the name of the village - though he also instructed me that I wasn't allowed to take photos here: on the road was OK, but not here. Smile, nod. Scratch head metaphorically and wonder why...

Orthetrum species - maybe just trinacria?

As the pool was less interesting than hoped, I focused on spending the rest of my free time exploring the thorn scrub. A different route out and across each day to slice it up into new sections. It was, despite the aridity and sometimes desolate appearance, surprisingly productive. Key to finding birds seemed to be finding fruiting and, to a lesser extent, flowering shrubs, but when there were birds there were often reasonable numbers and diversity. Yes, the bulk birds were seed-eaters (Sudan Golden Sparrow mainly, and lashings of weavers and queleas) and pigeons (Mourning Collared, Namaqua and Laughing, in order of abundance), but there was plenty more to find. 

Sudan Golden Sparrows en masse

Little groups of Northern Red-billed Hornbills were often to be found munching the fruits of some trees, bounding up to the tops of the trees when I got too close. Palearctic migrants were spread through the scrub too: plenty of Western Olivaceous and Western Subalpine Warbler, the occasional Common Whitethroat, lots of Common Chiffchaffs and a few Western Bonelli's Warblers, one or two Common Redstarts and Woodchat Shrikes and a couple of Hoopoes. More exotic - for me - were Senegal Batis, sounding vaguely like a Great Tit, and the purring trills of Brubrus. Every so often a flash of electric blue revealed a Striped Kingfisher had been waiting patiently in the shadows. Near the cemetery (where else?) was a reliable spot to find Senegal Thick-knees and Orange-breasted Waxbills; tiny splashes of colour in an otherwise sand-and-green landscape.

Hoopoe. As if you didn't know that...

Western Bonelli's Warbler

Western Red-billed Hornbill

Senegal Thick-knee

Orange-breasted Waxbill

...and a whole flock of 'em

Interestingly, there were also plenty of dragonflies in this arid area too: not just roving bluetails, but also a very pale spreadwing - maybe Lestes pallidus? - and an apparent Pseudagrion species. Neat! Possibly the nicest sightings were a couple of predators: a random Peregrine and an equally random African Wolf, which trotted past me, paused to check whether I looked like trouble, and then trotted on. Very, very cool.

Deciding I'm just not worth the hassle

 

Dung beetle's gotta roll

Perhaps Lestes pallidus

Definitely Trithemis annulata

Plain Tiger (butterfly)

This is getting more tricky. A leopard tiger beetle (there's a cat theme developing)

Still not adult, but already bigger than a European Mantis: African Giant Mantis

Pioneer White

A beautiful ichneumon-type wasp

What ringing there was at the biological station was a little bit comme ci, comme ça. Again something of a tendency to weaver overload, but nonetheless some nice additional birds too. A patch of scrub to the east of the abandoned hotel produced a nice mix of Palearctic migrants and Afrotropical goodies - lots of Curruca warblers (including our only Westen Orphean) and Chiffchaffs, a couple of Yellow-crowned Gonoleks and some Camaropteras. Attempting to catch waders was nigh-on pointless, with isolated nets and the ever-present wind - with the exception of these:

Greater Painted-Snipe

which came piling in to the swampy grassland in the early morning, from wherever they'd been munching overnight. And ringing reedbed passerines was heavily influenced by the wind and the weavers, though we did catch a British-ringed Sedge Warbler and a Common Redstart with a South African ring. 

Still, whatever the ringing situation might have fallen short on, there was generally plenty going on on and around the pools, so boredom was kept fairly well at bay.

Yellow Wagtail action round the pools: this one looks like Spanish (iberiae)...

...while this one looks like a standard Blue-headed (flava)

The flamingos were usually quite distant, but occasionally came close enough to photograph

Kittlitz's Plover and Common Ringed Plover

Great White Pelicans overhead were frequent, sometimes in massive flocks

Little Stint

Looking north across the pool to the new biological station

Little Egret

Western Orphean Warbler

Amongst the White-faced Whistling-Ducks were usually a few Fulvous

Occasional obstacle on net rounds

 

Rhineland birding (just)

This is a time of year when the locals enjoy their Fasnet celebrations - which are all very well and good. However, I do prefer the atmosphere of Karneval in the Rhineland and the kids have a strong preference for the Karneval processions as opposed to Fasnet (can't be anything to do with the quantity of sweets in the air, oh no indeed). So we often make our way up to my wife's home turf of Leverkusen for one or two Karneval processions and a little bit of Rhineland birding in between. This year we also needed to go into Globetrotter for a new tent before the rest of 'em go off on their Whitsun holidays, so there was another good reason to go.

The weather wasn't ideal, though we were crazy lucky with the one procession we visited, where the pelting rain paused for the time it took the procession to pass us and then began again while we were on the bus home. 

Only one birding trip was possible, along the banks of the Rhine downstream from the Hitdorf ferry towards Worringen. The day was leaden grey and there was more than a touch of snowy rain in the air when I started, but again, I was fortunate and the rain cleared as I set out.  

Looking upstream - not overly prepossessing

Downstream is a little more inspiring, but still very Rhineland

 

The Rhine was fairly high, barges laden with containers and what looked like coal labouring upstream, others riding high unladen and slipping down on the current towards the Netherlands at a brisk pace. There was little to see initially, with a handful of Mallards and Black-headed Gulls on the water; a small flock of Long-tailed Tits bringing some life to a patch of semi-submerged willows. Careful eyes on the ground reveal some signs of spring in the landscape: snowdrops and celandine flowers sheltering under the poplars and willows.

Some signs of spring under the trees: snowdrops are in flower

 

The first Lesser Celandine flower of the year!

 

Closer to the delights of the Chempark at Worringen, the high water had spread into some shallow banks of vegetation and there were more birds taking advantage of the slack water - a group of Canada Geese grazing on the edge of the water with a sprinkling of Mallards, a couple of Gadwall and a single Teal among them; a couple of Cormorants resting on a chunk of wood in the water next to two large gulls - one definitely a Yellow-legged, the other possibly a hybrid Herring x Yellow-legged; a Greylag swimming upstream appeared to be paired up with a Canada Goose; a male Goldeneye cautiously edging away from the bank in case I suddenly sprang at him. A reminder of the milder winters here, a flock of Meadow Pipits spooked out of the floating vegetation and sat up on some dead hogweed stems, squeaking with irritation at me. 

I headed back along the floodbank, which doubles as a cycle path, looking over sodden arable fields. The occasional parakeet in the air brought a touch of the exotic to the day - most of them Alexandrine Parakeets today, but a couple of Ring-neckeds also went over. The fields near the ferry were being used by further exotic fare - 30 or so Egyptian Geese grazing in a rough grassy meadow, along with a good 50 Ruddy Shelduck. Somewhere further into the fields, a Skylark let rip with a snatch of song for no apparent good reason. Sounded nice though.

Egyptian Geese

Canada Geese lurking in the long grass - a Grey Heron tucked away in the background

Cormorants.

 

February waterbird count: Lake Constance

For the past three winters I've been roped into doing part of the monthly waterbird count on the lake, covering the sections between Immenstaad and the lido at Friedrichshafen. If you want to visualise, it's this section of the shore. Today was my contribution to the February count, along with my trusty co-counters AR and NK. Being young (har har) and fit (enough) it's done on the bike, so about a 35km round trip for me. Being older than I was, it's done on an e-bike. Today was pretty typical of the last few winters.

Immenstaad starts from the landing pier on the lake. Walk out to the end in the early morning, divide up responsibility for the species being counted and set to work. This morning there's a cold breeze blowing in from the N and the sky is overcast. There's the threat of rain later, so we're hoping to stay dry, but not overoptimistic. 

The lake towards Switzerland is unusually empty, only a smattering of Great Crested Grebes out there, mostly distant flecks bobbing in the waves. There's a number of them paired up and head-shaking at one another (seems early, given they start breeding late on the lake, but perhaps these are heading off to other waters) but most of them are hunched up and chilling. Towards the shore the ducks are mostly huddled in the bay immediately east of the harbour; we have to go around to the adjacent beach to see them properly, so cover the remainder of the bay first. I've seen it busier, but there's a reasonable selection out there: Goldeneye, Tufted Duck, Mallard, Gadwall, a few Goosander, surprisingly only one Red-crested Pochard (normally there's a decent number of them here), a scatter of Coot and Mute Swans. Just as we leave the pier to head to the bay, the entire flock of duck spooks out and swirls around the wider bay a few times. About a third land in an area we've already counted, some move off entirely and the rest head back to the little bay they were in. So, an estimate instead of a proper count. Never mind. About 600 or so Pochard and 200-ish Tufted. A closer look from the beach doesn't reveal anything interesting among them, so we head on to stop 2.

The second stop is nice: the Dornier mole behind the Airbus complex. It sounds a bit crap, but is actually quite a haven of peace and quiet with a stretch of trees running along the mole to a small protected area jutting into the lake and cutting the Immenstaad bay off from the Fischbach bay. First a look on the Immenstaad side to mop up any birds tucked away near the shore, not visible from the pier, then back across to the slipway on the east bank to start the next section. The Lipbach enters the lake through a little nature reserve here and this is about the only place to look into it sensibly. There's no action in the little heronry yet, and the cormorants aren't back from their winter holidays, so the place is inhabited by the usual band of Little Grebes (24 today) and a batch of Black-headed Gulls, fresh from gorging at the nearby sewage works, plus a few ducks and Coot. 

On again to Fischbach, where we can stand at the entrance to the harbour and cover the eastern end of the section. At the moment the lake is quite low - most of the precipitation falling as snow in the mountains, so the lake draws down until the snowmelt - and there are broad shingly, muddy shores exposed below the revetments. This is giving the dabbling ducks and the gulls a good chance to get among the stones and fossick, so there are more Teal and Gadwall than in autumn, a nice male Pintail upending; more Goosander hunting fry in the shallows too. The bay in front of the lido here is one of the better spots for small gulls; a few Common Gulls and one or two Caspians in the area are easy enough to find among the Black-headeds and Yellow-legs at this time of year. 

Gadwall and Coot

 

Next stop is the shoreline path below the MTU buildings (Friedrichshafen is sooo scenic) where we walk the bikes along the narrow shoreline between the factory and the lake. When the lake is high or there's a stiff westerly blowing the path is often closed off, and indeed is frequently trashed by the winter storms, but today the wind is offshore and the water quite calm. Weirdly there are very few grebes off the shoreline here today - normally you can expect a hundred or more, but today only a third that number. However, this is the section where Black-throated Divers begin to appear reliably and there are indeed about 10 in view today. Again, the low water means more dabbling duck are in action - this time a couple of Wigeon among the flock: pretty scarce on this part of the lake.

Black-throated Divers on a sunnier day

 

Wigeon. On a foggier day

 

Getting close to the end now. A brief stop at the yacht club (no public access, sorry) brings a Curlew (!) and a few more divers close in, before we end up at the Friedrichshafen lido. A nice long pier here gives a view across the bay, back towards the yacht club for one section and towards the Schlosskirche for the final tiny section. It's again not exactly heaving with birds, but a couple of - relatively - nice birds with another close diver and a single Shelduck. By the time we're finishing up, the only cold-water swimmer of the day is stripping off beside us and it's spitting with rain (probably why he's the only cold-water swimmer today!)

A mixed bag of large gulls. Fun. If you like that kind of thing (I do)

 

Senegal. Another helping.

From Diadiam III we boarded possibly the most rickety vehicle I've ever had the privilege to travel in and headed off to our next accommodation at Lampsar Lodge, on the banks of the river Lampsar at Ndiaye. Our 'taxi' was a rusting grey bus with three banks of seats spanning the interior behind the driver and two sets of seats facing one another at the rear. There was - fortunately - space on the roof to carry the luggage. The windows weren't brilliant at opening and the bus had probably been built some decades before air-con was invented, but we were well-ventilated with some rust holes in the floor which were more or less the size of my hand (I did wonder whether someone's foot might go through if they trod unwarily), so we could share the dust and exhaust fumes with ease. We couldn't go at more than about 40 km/h, but given the road surface and the state of the bus that was probably a blessing. The rear doors had to be held closed by a rope for the entire journey by the lad accompanying the driver (who also had the unenviable task of getting the luggage on and off the roof). We got there in one piece though, which is all we could ask. One interesting moment about a kilometer from the lodge when the police at one of the many, many checkpoints waved us over and checked the driver's paperwork. Something, somewhere, was obviously unsatisfactory, so there ensued a long wait while the driver negotiated and eventually (by the look of it) coughed up a contribution to be allowed to continue.

Taxi to Lampsar...

As we drove away from Diadiam, we passed through areas of extensive bare earth with occasional tamarisks, obviously periodically inundated and then drying, then over various canals and ditches carefully carrying water away from the main river to areas where the farms were. The first fields - furthest from the settlements along the main road - were being cleared and prepared entirely by hand. Pretty hot and thirsty work by the look of it.

Close to Diadiam III - dry, saline and not overly inspiring

This is where the water's going?

Lampsar was a little like stepping into another world. The lodge lies on the river (judging by the height of the water along the wall there, under the river might be a better description) and was surrounded by coconut palms and lush greenery. There were Pied Kingfishers hunting the river from the shade of the trees, Yellow-crowned Gonoleks nabbing food from the trio of penned tortoises and piles of excitable weavers in the trees: chatting, gossiping and tuning up for a busy breeding season. Nice to recognise a song I last heard nearly 20 years ago in Kenya: Village Weavers. There were also sunbirds in the bushes and firefinches on the deck. All in all, a little different to Diadiam III.

Lampsar Lodge

 

Looking west from the dining area, downriver along the Lampsar...

...upriver looks similar.

A not-very good photo of a very good-looking bird: Yellow-crowned Gonolek

Pied Kingfisher

The ringing was also somewhat different. By far the most frequent birds in the nets were Black-headed Weavers and Sudan Golden Sparrows, closely followed by Red-billed Queleas, Red-billed Firefinches and Little Weavers. There were good reasons to be attentive when taking stripy brown finchy things out of the nets though: lurking in there were the occasional Yellow-crowned Bishop, Northern Red Bishop, Pin-tailed Whydah and Village Indigobird. It would be soooo much easier when the little blighters are in breeding plumage, but the challenge of identifying them out in non-breeding plumage was eagerly accepted. The palearctic migrants were skewed much more towards the scrub-inhabitants: Western Subalpine Warbler, Western Olivaceous Warbler and Common Chiffchaff were the commonest, but a handful of Sedge and Reed Warblers crept in as well. Notably, we caught a lot of Common Bulbuls and a trio of pigeon species: Mourning Collared Dove, Laughing Dove and Black-billed Wood Dove. The jam on the cake, so to speak, were a whole troupe of Blue-naped Mousebirds and a single African Jacana.

Mourning Collared Dove. These were everywhere, announcing themselves when they arrived in a tree with a rattly kroo-oo-oo.

Subalpine Warbler - a young bird. These were easier when they were just one species instead of three. 

Same bird, just from behind. Tail completely worn to rags.

Pin-tailed Whydah with its comic relief nose on early

African Jacana - aren't those toes great?

Northern Red Bishop. No, really.

This one's an adult - and with more confidence a Western - Subalpine.

Black-billed Wood-Dove

Red-billed Firefinches. Male on the left, female looking exasperated.

Blue-naped Mousebird

Again, the down-time hours were a good excuse to get out and find some other wildlife. The surroundings were less open and easy than round Diadiam III, but there was a riverside track running south - and north - between the narrow strip of aquatic vegetation and the neighbouring farmland. So, there were a few butterflies and distinctly more dragonflies than our previous base (odd, the latter, as the habitat really didn't seem to be more varied; quite the reverse). 

Mystery damselfly. Not Ischnura senegalensis, the blue taillight is on s.8 & 9, rather than just 8 and the thorax is blue. Annoyingly, I got no photo from the side.

Sunning (!) ...

...aaah, Little Bee-eater. Why the need to sunbathe in near 30 degrees heat I'm not sure.

Male Pied-spot Hemistigma albipunctum. Quite the beast.

Common Citril Ceriagrion glabrum, I think. These were fairly easy to find

Looks very much like Truxalis nasuta...

Male Pintail Acisoma sp.

Carpenter bee!

Small, yet fine, moth. Maybe Aporodes?

Trithemis annulata - Violet Dropwing, a species spreading fast northwards through Europe now

A relative - this one seems to be Blue Basker,Urothemis edwardsii

This fine skink was basking near the lodge

and these tracks betrayed the presence of a Nile Monitor in the adjacent ditch.

Western Plantain-eater. Without plantain.

These large agamas were easy to find in the lodge garden

 Lampsar was quite a step up in comfort from Diadiam III. There was a dining area on pontoons on the river, which doubled as our ringing station, and we were served three-course meals (though the main was still often fish and rice). There was hibiscus or baobab juice at breakfast time - very much appreciated - and the bathrooms were a little less quirky than the previous accommodation. At least, there was hot water for showering and toilets which flushed without incident... We even had company at meals!

Fish. With rice and spicy veg (ages since I've had okra - a nice treat)

Yeah, so, you've got fish. Where's mine?

Incidental net-botherer

Then, if a cat can join you at table, why not a goat?

This was an unexpected treat in the net one evening!

The river was clearly a conduit for all sorts of birds too. White-faced Whistling Ducks were often loafing on the water and there were always Moorhens and Swamphens picking around the fringes of the reeds on the opposite side. An African Fish Eagle put in occasional appearances, and Whiskered Terns were ever-present. Add in Pied and Malachite Kingfishers, various cormorants and herons and the inevitable Spur-winged Lapwings, and it made for a busy place. And, of course, the opposite bank appeared to be a major weaver roost - hundreds, if not thousands on a daily basis tazzing across the river from the safe reedbed roost to the food on our bank. 

Whiskered Tern on patrol

African Fish-eagle also on patrol

Nothing to do with the river, but a good-looker. African Grey Woodpecker

 

And, goodnight.