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.

Senegal - slice three

Wetland at Diadiam III...

...with the inevitable rubbish

As I mentioned in the previous post, it was instructive to be handling Palearctic migrants in their winter quarters - and to see just what sort of habitat 'our' birds use while we're shivering in the fog back at Lake C. The wetland area was obviously well-inhabited by waders, many of which pass through in varying numbers each spring and autumn here in S. Germany: Ruff, Wood Sandpiper, Greenshank, Little Stint, Curlew Sandpiper. There were also piles of Yellow Wagtails of varying flavour - flava, iberiae and flavissima for certain - other varieties may have been available. White Wagtails (maybe some of the Icelandic birds which pass through Slapton? Maybe Scandinavians?) weren't rare and we found a few Sedge, Reed and Grasshopper Warblers in the nets too. 

Starter for 10: a Western Olivaceous Warbler. For a couple of weeks in January, I had my ear in to the song. Doubt that will last, sadly.

 

A nice male flava Yellow Wagtail.

This is the ecotone between wet Typha swamp and dry thorn scrub. A few metres of grazed grass, a handful of palms and a lot of Giant Milkweed... From the number of old thorn fences, the edge here is (was?) cultivated but there were no crops in there at present.

Typical thorn scrub around Diadiam III. Giant Milkweed, Mesquite and Simple-leaved Greenthorn

Slightly further from the influence of the wetland, the milkweed disappears and the ground cover becomes a sparse dead-grass layer with heavily-grazed thorn. Various Vachellia thorn species - all showing a clear browse line at cattle/donkey height cast surprisingly effective shade

This is where many passerines lurk. The difficulty is just finding them.

The thorn scrub was also used, but birds were way less abundant in general. There didn't appear to be all that many trees and shrubs in flower or fruit (though appearances were perhaps a little deceptive: certain trees were fruiting hard) and perhaps the general heat and dryness of the scrub meant that there just wasn't enough food around to support more insectivores. Familiar species like Common Redstart and Common Whitethroat were scattered around, and there were lots of Common Chiffchaffs - plenty of them already tuning up for the European spring. For me, there was a bit of spice in the presence of lots of Western Olivaceous and Subalpine Warblers (western - iberiae - were all we could identify with any degree of certainty) and a smattering of Western Bonelli's Warblers, along with the occasional Woodchat Shrike. The bulk birds in the scrub were, however, afrotropical residents. Lots of Mourning Collared Dove and Laughing Dove, and everywhere little groups of Namaqua Dove; small groups of Western Red-billed Hornbills; hordes of Sudan Golden Sparrows - and then in amongst them always some Red-billed Queleas, a scatter of Yellow-crowned Bishops, Black-headed and Little Weavers (and what appeared to be Vitelline Masked Weavers occasionally)... Look closely under the trees and you'll probably find the occasional Senegal Thick-knee or Long-tailed Nightjar snoozing away the heat of the day.

Namaqua Dove. A midget pigeon, with body size not much more than a sparrow

 

Long-tailed Nightjar pretending to be a branch on the ground

 

Common Bulbul trying to keep cool

Chestnut-bellied Starling being cool

Senegal Coucal - the epitome of cool.

A Grey-backed Camaroptera. The name is longer than the bird.

For a couple of nights at Diadiam III there was a tour group using the accommodation: they were well-equipped to see what additional wildlife they could lure in with a hefty UV light against a white sheet overnight. Some of the intrepid ringers weren't about to pass up the chance to nose around too, so had a good butchers' at the sheet in the early evening darkness. And there was plenty to admire, just not necessarily what was expected. Moths were sparse. A couple of Bedstraw and Striped Hawkmoths plus on Convolvulus Hawk were more or less the sum of the big-and-spectacular, and the small and less-spectacular were not much more diverse. But the beetles. Oh my... The second evening lamping brought the most astonishing numbers of water beetles and rove beetles to the sheet. There were so many on and around the sheet, that it became ever so slightly freaky to stand there with beetles crawling all over you. Between the beetles there were plenty of crickets, a few hefty cockroaches and the occasional damselfly. Not shabby.

Not - obviously - an invertebrate, but this cutie tried to share my room one night. Got quite pissy with me when I showed it the door.

Bedstraw Hawkmoth surrounded by rove beetles

House (?) cricket around the light

A rather fine ground beetle which is common in the area