Finders, keepers

I bang on about bad form & our veni, vidi, vici wits, the cuckoos of the domestic birding fraternity. Social media adds spice [or salt] to that platform but that's a laugh for another time. I do, however, want to spend a few words on the field-technicians who consistently root out vagrants; those selfless, tireless men & women who walk the hard-stare & who generously / timeously share their spoils with the rest of the great unwashed. (ie: us).

Before I do, however, some bits & pieces. Defined by a colouful kaleidoscope of characters, the birding community notes a few pseudo-character sub-categories. These lie somewhere between the sparrows & the eagles & are fun, fun, fun. My favourite is the self-proclaimed, get-along gang. These mystics emerge from their chrysalises of inactivity whenever a rarity is reported. They retire immediately after the feed & aren't seen again until the next hit. Hooked up to the info-channels like half-life junkies on life-support, they wait, unmoved. They are, on the whole, however, a colourful clique of fieldwork expats & usually worth the price of a pint @ story-time. As a rule, however, leave the party early & avoid the 'remember when I... ' soliloquies. It's easier on the wallet.


An emerging, more subtle group, is incipient within the frat. It's stealth-camo for self-interest. Like flight control they exercise exclusive ascendancy over the news; offer group rates on sponsored travel; cherry-pick, ... the cherries (what else, duh?) & 'confirm the ID... ', in person, before opening the gates to the rabid rabble, on the outside. It's no secret. These candidate-agents tap the web for flow & we love them for it.

Less tongue-in-cheek & at it's heart, however, beats the lifeblood of the community. Unspoiled, unpretentious & modest. Gentle men & women, unheralded, passionate, knowledgeable & honest. Too many to name; inspiring people all & therein lies the colour.

I want to reference a few specific individuals, perhaps more indirectly than I'd like. I'm going to exclude the rarity-stumblers ie: those fortunate enough to chance-upon a mega / giga / (tera) [ie: a hitherto 'extinct' sp. rediscovered - not really but it sounds cool anyway]. Those are yarns for another time.

The stars of the region's compass include some special field-pros. In the east, far east, gulls, stints, pelagics and other passer. goodies. In Namibia's west, terns, waders, skimmers & gulls. Another field-pro. In that country's far north, a bare-footed other. Further east, one more sharp-tailed pro. In the south, far south west, a new crop of youngsters - snow-white fresh but fluent in the field. In South Africa's east an understated few. Up here a handful; consistent, dedicated and hard to beat. There are others scattered around the sub-region equally watchful in weather's heat & sleet. Thank you. This year's been a cracker.

A thorn, it's said, makes the rose or a rose it wouldn't be; neither does a prick-or-two ruin the garden. Keep the field close & your dearest ones closer still. Be safe; be vigilant - be cool. Wishing you all a peaceful, prosperous & fulfilling New Year. May your lists get fat & your bins grow sharper.

We're going fishing. (it's easier)

Get-off 869: - Northern Wheatear

A wheatear [©FraukeFeind] - not THE wheatear

For at least a fortnight the Oenanthe² [ie: a Northern Wheatear, in the street vernacular] languished in peace & quiet. This particular Old World Flycatcher had held court on the derriere of its normal range, flitting, strutting & otherwise going 'bout its business near the Kruger National Park's Vervoer [Transport] Dam.

Two weeks on a private tour to darkest Africa - in seasonal rain, wind, some grit in its eye & under the watch of the grim reaper, this bird's sensitivities were never more at ease. Lions lurked; leopards leaped; crocodilians crunched & falcons frolicked. Ah yes; them carefree summers - 'Hakuna Matata, watta a wonderful phrase.. '

Now I lay me down to sleep - pray protect me from them peeps

Publicly announced some two weeks after the twinkle in its eye 1^st graced an African lens; & still on the keep the day after the Eye of Sauron swiveled eastwards; here, at last, a true vagrant to get us off the dreaded 869; an uncomfortable no. to hold still on for long & 1 worse-off than the more titillating 870.

For the progeny-free, carefree, couldn't-care-less-me & the otherwise foot & fancy-free, time plays no role. The rest of us find some common ground between fridge-magnets, bedtime-stories & the boardroom; usually on a weekend. Getting into Kruger at this time of the year is no small feat. Even so, our luck held - the house -booked, paid-for & looked-forward-to. On your marks, list set - hold the sweaty phone! It's FO [flown off, that is].

In betwixt Sunday's bulletin & tomorrow's long-weekend, 5 short days; time a-plenty for any bird to rethink it's sedentary hold on paradise-lost & so it's proved (again & again). Must be the sodding weather - only I'm thinking storm's playback thunder & bolts of flash-lightning arrives in cumulative cars, rather than from cloudy skies. Another dam(n) washout.

Fool's gold at Ithala

1^st call on the sub-region's Golden Pipit [Ithala Game Reserve - KZN, RSA] coincided with our short trip out of town; far out of town. Our reaction was muted .. This then the 3^rd specimen of its tribe to cock-a-snook at us - a two-fingered blocker; a panoply of bad timing & a swift kick to the nutmegs.

Johannesburg is rarely a waypoint for the ave. vagrant; a catch-all for unintended, lost souls on a wonky compass & / or maverick wanderers simply shooting the breeze. Most vagrants prefer somewhere off-the-beaten-track. That means we have to travel, far-afield, almost always.

These wanderers, in turn, are rarely desk-bound & usually offer the briefest of peeps. If life's dice roll the point, a win btw., we join the exodus & catch the bird snake-eyes - caught unawares, dizzy in uncharted woods & rusty on the local dialect. Yes sirree. We're an advanced species, a tag premised on instant porridge; instant coffee & instant soup. Twitching in a can is no less gratifying or instant. Get there a week late, however, and the canned granules are saliva-slippery from the spoons licked before. It's not my cup of tea. We went anyway.

Contrary to the feel-good press birders are a disruptive bunch: - the birds a Distant Tit to the list - a recorded leap of faith pillared on 'I think it was; therefore it must be'. That sentiment is often weak-minded under closer scrutiny; froth & indignation notwithstanding. This escapade proved no different. To end before we start, the bird had flown the keep sometime the day before - an inconvenience really & a calamity of whim, wind or weather. We'll never know.

Initially reported from atop a bush, not much more than a sand-wedge from the Mvunyane (Ntshondwe - wat dat?) Gate & later fairly reliable at the same flag variably throughout the days that followed; we few - we happy, happy few, thought we'd start our pan for gold .. there. We arrived in / under a cloud of mist, a second or two after open, to a confab of banshees, uproarious in volume rather than content. Out-of-the-vehicle shouts of 'the bird's not here', from within the bowels of the very tree still pinking from the bird, the day before, confirmed the loss. The nugget had gone - & wasn't that a helluva shock ... weather notwithstanding? Oblivious to the irony of it all, the travelling circus & its self-appointed ringsmen waxed on about unconfirmed sightings & hearsay post Tuesday, 3 or 4 days earlier. It's a claim the Wed / Thurs mob might find hurtful. The Sunday-morning arrival of Moe & Curly [Larry'd done a duck], in boards & tees, was another breath of hot air but ... I digress.

The bird wasn't there, here or anywhere & so it proved over the next 24 hours for those of us desperate enough to pan the fields. It's not that we didn't try - we did; hand on heart.

Back at the gate the keeper smiled wanly - whacked-out on the 'keep in your vehicle' ashlar. His studied view & I quote - 'they spooked (it) too much. The pipit's gone down - down in (sic) the valley.'

Ithala, a gold mine of riches, grades low, however, on road infrastructure & certainly nothing anywhere near 'into the valley'. As to who 'they' were we'll never know & what does it matter? We'd dipped. Our attempt was flawed, both in theory & out in the field. The grapes had gone sour.

Notwithstanding, we spent the night at Ithala's Ntshondwe Resort; a well-serviced rest-camp nestled high-up against the reserve's southernmost cliffs. The front-deck and the terrace, adjacent the dining area, offer sweeping views over the Ngubhu Basin. Getting to the camp is a pleasant, winding drive, through good habitat, on tarred road. Black & White Rhino are fairly common. We had memorable sightings of both. Other plain's game is equally abundant as are the birds. (We recorded 150+ sp. in our short stay. Specials included Bat Hawk & 2 sp. of crane.) The camp itself is colourful; an artist's palette of forest & montane specials. From the waterhole nearest the front-deck, frogs rise at sundown & chirrup on into the night. Sunset vistas are unsurpassed. Rates include a buffet breakfast & the food's not bad. Dinner is less inspiring but adequate given the locale. Our dinner was supposed to be a self-catered affair. The best-laid plans of mice & men.. Vervet Monkeys gained access to our cottage through a bathroom window no wider than a well-kept secret. The ensuing free-for-all in the kitchen, if the plastered poo & pee is anything to judge these things by, must have been a blast. We were pzzt ...

Anchored by overcooked venison [unforgivable in Africa btw.] & in chairs more comfortable than the situation warranted, we soon got to chewing the fat. Who 'they' were does, in fact, matter & not (only) because we dipped, although, betw. us, it's a bitter pill, but because it's the antithesis of bird-watching as an ethos.

A non-sedentary / migrant / vagrant bird, harassed by birders is mostly free to fly away. The causal loss is limited to an experienced emotion for late-comers to the site. The negative effects on the bird itself are minimal I would guess. A collated sightings report eg: the SARBN, which pinpoints & subsequently concentrates birders at a particular site, has little long-term impact on the effected birds even if the bird is sent packing. The positive spill-over for the participating community, as a whole, outweigh any perceived short-term negative consequences for the bird in question unless, of course, the bird is injured or killed in the melee. I know of no such case. I have, however, seen transgressions that are outrageous, callous, indifferent & often illegal. Trespassing is common. A momentary lapse or an instance of mistaken identity, particularly in low-light conditions, is an accident the community doesn't need. Where birders, responding to a public report, target a resident bird the consequences for the bird are more severe. Well-documented cases of abandonment, stolen eggs etc. are common. I concede the point that people mean well & or are caught-up in the excitement of a sighting but it isn't enough.

Bird-bothering as opposed to birding is an irritation, of course, but not necessarily as severe as the safari hats & boots make it out to be. Amateur photographers, in particular, are targeted as repeat-offenders. Some are more susceptible to acts of bird-bothering. Youth, exuberance, cynicism or the pursuit of a misguided sense-of-belonging are just a few of many social pitfalls.

Looking back at some of the photographs posted on the SARBN, it's fairly obvious the bird-botherers were hanging on its every word. Photographs of flight-shots & those in which the bird was displaying suggest 'they' know who 'they' are. Sure I got there late & the evidence is subjective / circumstantial only but dammit man, have a heart. The bird's supposed to be silent in Southern Africa.