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 - a second helping

Diadiam III was our base for the next three days. Ringing was quite varied - the nets set either around the edge of the wetland or in the dry acacia scrub just a few metres beyond. The ecotone between wetland and parched scrub was impressively abrupt: about  50 m of tough, well-grazed green grass between the inundated cattails and scrub with a ground flora parched dead for the season. It was instructive to catch some wintering Palearctic migrants (Wood Sandpipers in particular) and a few Cattle Egrets and Squacco Herons (first herons I've had the privilege to handle) and to start looking at the local birds in more detail: Spur-winged Plover, Long-tailed Nightjar and plenty of Black-headed Weavers.

Cattle Egret being well-behaved

Cattle Egret still being well-behaved

Squacco Heron. Also being well-behaved. Interesting to discover that they have very very finely-serrated bill edges. Makes sense, if you need to cop hold of slippery fish, but they're a devil for tangling in a net.

When the day grew too hot - usually about midday - or windy, there was time to explore a little. Walking the edge of the wetland was moderately productive for odonata, though there wasn't the diversity I'd hoped for. The commonest species by far were Broad Scarlet Crocothemis erythraea and Black Percher Diplacodes lefebvrii, but patience paid off with a few Long Skimmer Orthetrum trinacria and one or two Pied-Spot Hemistigma bipunctata. There were plenty of (African) Common Bluetails Ischnura senegalensis to see too, though picking up any other damselflies was decidedly hard work.

Common Bluetail - Ischnura senegalensis rather than the European elegans. The black pattern on S2 is quite a difference.

I think this is a female Pied-Spot Hemistigma albipunctum

The well-named Black Percher Diplacodes lefebvrii. Perching.

The thorn scrub was also pretty well dominated by giant milkweed plants - a toxic ruderal which seems to coppice well when it's cut. Apparently the latex is impossible to remove with soap and water, so you have to wait for it to dry and then peel or chip it off. Some of the plants were pretty large around the base, so they can obviously get pretty old. They had an interesting fauna attached - a grasshopper species (Poekilocerus sp?) and plain tiger butterflies - their respective nymphs and larvae munching away and, given their warning colours, merrily absorbing the toxins. There were also tephritid fruit flies busy using the fruits and a bright orange aphid (oleander aphid?) sucking on the sap. These in turn were being munched by ladybirds and tended by ants, which themselves were being taken out by some very juvenile mantis (possibly Sphodromantis viridis, but as Mantis religiosa and a Miomantis species were also in action, who knows...)

Grasshopper nymphs on giant milkweed. The flowers seem to be particularly favoured.

Plain tiger caterpillar - this one's not on milkweed for once

Oleander aphids?

On the second morning four of us elected to go on a boat trip to see the pelicans - for which Djoudj is famous - on the Djoudj river. We were driven out to the embarkation point and had a while to wait until our boat set off, so enjoyed a bit of roadside birding. There was a group of White Pelican fishing at the sluice under the road and constant groups of pelicans passing overhead in the direction of the colony. Once we were past the initial 'wow' factor of the pelicans, there were other things to take in: an Osprey perched up on a pylon; Reed Cormorants and White-breasted Cormorants accompanying the pelicans; Squacco Herons lurking on the edge of the vegetation trying not to be seen; a couple of Little Bee-eaters on some cattails. A warthog sauntered out of the scrub and trotted down the road. A Jacana feeding in the lee of some cattails. That kind of thing.

Great White Pelicans doing their thing in the early morning sunshine.

White-breasted Cormorant - variously treated as a species in its own right and a subspecies of Great Cormorant - on the way to hanging with pelicans

Little Bee-eater on reed

Squacco heron landing...

...and landed. Trying to merge with the primrose-willows and cattails.

Warthog. Trotting.

Soon enough we were gathered up for the boat, joining another small group of tourists. We puttered off up the river and were soon passing some more waterbirds: African Darters (always elegantly cool), an African Fish-Eagle posing on top of a dead tree - against the light, naturally - and trying to ignore us. The boat was soon being followed by marsh terns, all apparently Whiskered Tern, picking small fish and invertebrates out of our wake. Then we rounded a corner and were faced with a chaotic feeding frenzy of pelicans, egrets and cormorants through which we had to gently nudge our way. That was... pretty impressive! Pelicans upending and diving right next to the boat, almost an arms-length away from us, cormorants twisting and sliding through between them, terns hanging above and waiting for an opening to drop in and snatch a snack, and all along the edge of the river egrets and herons (five species present and correct) leaning eagerly forward to grab their share of any fish that escaped towards the apparent safety of the reeds.

The elegant African Darter (a.k.a. snakebird in a number of languages)

Feeding frenzy!

More feeding frenzy.

Skimming the surface. They fly so close, it seems incredible that they don't clip it. Maybe the youngsters get soggy while they learn...

Whiskered Tern preparing to dive.

Whiskered Tern on the dive

Black Herons - the ones famous for fishing under an umbrella formed by their own wings - on their way to the feeding frenzy

Not just Whiskered Terns either - a couple of Caspians joined the fun round the boat

The Yellow-billed Stork that nearly escaped the picture

After all that, the sight of the pelican breeding island was somehow pretty tame. The island is built up to keep the colony safe from flooding, and there was standing room only with a mass of nearly full-grown pelican chicks. The occasional Sacred Ibis stalked quietly along the edge of the colony - presumably foraging - and there was a constant coming and going of adult pelicans, but it all seemed a little uneventful after the earlier encounter. We rounded another vegetated island to head back down the river, admiring a basking west African crocodile, and then bumped into a quartet of Blue-cheeked Bee-eaters busily hunting dragonflies.

It's a bee-eater. With blue cheeks. Guess what it's called...

Pelican predator. Good disincentive for swimmers.

Marsh Harriers were cruising over the reeds everywhere we looked

Between Diadiam III and the entrance to Djoudj there is a sizeable shallow wetland, with variously reeds and grassy edges, small islands and mudbanks. Perfect, in fact, for waterbirds. While we were there, a daily flock of White-faced Whistling Ducks built up from a few hundred to a few thousand, chilling on the water and the islands. Every time a predator hove into view - even as minor as a Marsh Harrier - they spooked and swirled into the air, squeaking frantically. The next most abundant species on the wetland were Shoveler and Black-winged Stilt, then a nicely mixed bag of other waders and herons. Lots of Little Stint and Wood Sandpipers, a regular group of Black-tailed Godwits (one sporting colour-rings), Ruff, Ringed Plover, Kittlitz's Plover, Marsh Sandpiper, Redshank, Greenshank... etc. etc. Backdrop to these was a smattering of Spoonbills, Sacred Ibis, and both Greater and Lesser Flamingos.

 

White-faced Whistling Ducks. Chilled.

White-faced Whistling Ducks no longer chilled

Lesser Flamingos

Spur-winged Lapwing. Never chilled.

Wood Sandpipers. Also not particularly chilled.