On the final day of April I was alerted that the second item on my butterfly agenda for this year was ready to pursue. I had wanted to make further visits to Sussex Butterfly Conservation’s Fritillaries for the Future Project site at Rewell Wood (SU979074) to see how things were progressing, and large numbers of the insects had now emerged for the 2019 season. On my previous visit a year ago (see here) the land management of progressive coppicing had been explained by the project officer Neil Hulme, and it was fascinating to learn about.

My second aim was to obtain more pictures of Pearl-bordered Fritillary. Though I have near perfect images in my collection already, they were all of a cold wrangled specimen at Bentley Wood in 2015 so it would be good to gain some more natural studies. After the two warm, sunny days that had triggered the mass hatching Wednesday (1st) was more subdued. And so I reasoned the conditions could be right for achieving my purpose.

Pearl-bordered Fritillary

These butterflies are hyperactive and fast flying in the sunniest conditions, so are not prone to settle and hence very difficult to capture pictorially. I arrived at the managed east-west ride early in the afternoon to find things lightly overcast as anticipated. But my BBC weather app, in so far as it can be trusted was predicting some sunshine later in the afternoon. Several people were searching along the ride and Pearls were being found.

I myself saw two fly pasts but conditions became cooler and all the butterflies went to roost. The number of people built up, since pictures had been published online in the previous two days when a record tally of 243 had been counted. Rewell Wood has now clearly taken over from Bentley Wood, Hants as THE place to see PBF. But on this day other observers were no more successful than myself and most gave up and left. At 4pm hazy sunshine did break out for a while, but the Pearls must all have gone to sleep by then since none re-appeared.

I took the opportunity to reconnoitre the length of the ride and appreciate the impressive nature of the rotational coppicing that has been undertaken here over the last few years (pictured below), all by BC volunteers. This of course replicates how such woodlands were harvested in centuries past, and it was the decline of the practice that caused Pearl and Small Pearl-bordered Fritillaries to struggle for survival themselves, with falls in number of more than 70% across their British range since the 1970s.

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Weather over the next two days was not butterfly friendly, then Saturday (4th) was forecast to be sunny but with cold northerly winds. Plan A having failed I now set out to get pictures of the Pearls as the day warmed up, that being one of the more likely scenarios for success. This time I arrived at the ride’s western end at 9:45am but though the sun was out there was nothing on the wing yet. I had expected it to be quite crowded here, being a weekend but could see just one other person walking up ahead.

Things remained quite cool and big, threatening clouds were crossing the sun, though the strong wind kept the grey stuff moving. I engaged with the other observer, Adrian from Clacton in Essex and we carried on searching together. He was in just his second year of butterflying and looking for his first PBFs. Eventually we had brief views of maybe five Pearls during one sunny interval. My first three field priorities with any wildlife – namely see it, see it well, get any kind of picture – were all now gained.

By 11am the day indeed began to warm up and there were six of us now present. This proved to be a mannerly gathering since we all kept to a well trodden path at the edge of the coppiced habitat without walking in to its lush ground cover of wild plants. But inevitably we got in each others’ way at times. Once the blue areas of sky became wider and more prolonged warmth was on offer, we began to come across Pearl-bordered Fritillary (pictured below) basking open-winged on or near the ground.

Pearl-bordered Fritillary (all pictures)

The warmth from sunshine had needed to last a little while before the butterflies showed themselves, which explained their low profile three days earlier. Plan B was now working perfectly as the attractive little Pearls warmed up with the day. Over the next hour there were one after another such encounters, possibly of the same several insects. No doubt there were many more to be found had we steamed into the habitat but we remained respectfully on the margins and let our quests come to us, which is the most effective and eco-friendly policy.

My day’s results though grassy were indeed an improvement on last year’s upper side studies, and more natural than those previous premium treatments from Bentley Wood as desired. In time the Pearls became flightier and harder to capture again and one by one my companions went on their way. At 12:20 pm Adrian was the last to leave and I then enjoyed the wholly unanticipated luxury of having this place all to myself for another hour. And so field objective four, get better pictures was followed as conditions cooled a little again by five: go in with the macro lens. That produced the image at the head of this post.

Pearl-bordered Fritillary (both pictures)

Eventually my tranquillity was shattered by an interloper who asked if I was looking for Pearls then, without asking how long I had been on-site or what I had seen went straight into telling me I was in the wrong place. He boasted of seeing hundreds earlier in the week at the eastern end of the ride, with lots of egg-laying females; that being a conservation area and off limits to visitors. Though what this man recalled matches Neil Hulme’s account on the Sussex BC sightings page, I objected to being engaged with in such a way as if I must be having a bad time while the accoster does things bigger and better. I told him I only needed one PBF to get good pictures of, at which he said he didn’t have much time and that I was wasting my own. Perhaps he was a BC officer or volunteer going to do the daily count, who knows? But my morning had been perfectly fine, thank you and I opted to stay where I was, away from all the noise.

A few more PBF encounters were then enjoyed before I too headed home. This had been a largely satisfying exercise and my knowledge and experience of this species had grown meaningfully. In a couple of weeks these butterflies’ flight period will be over. The evidence of this visit was that the entire ride is being colonised as intended, as year upon year butterflies emerge from one coppiced area then move into and lay eggs in neighbouring compartments. And long may that continue.

While consulting RBA three days ago I realised there were indeed birds in England that I really ought to be making the effort to see. Having not travelled nationally since January simply because there was nothing around that interested me, I had got in the habit of just skimming through the listings looking for bold red print and maybe not really paying proper attention.

Suddenly I now realised a state of insidious lethargy could have settled upon me, that had most likely deepened after my recent butterflying trip to northern Greece was so wet as to be demoralising rather than motivating. In short hitting the road to see some birds would do me no harm at all. Of the two options that now stood out one was an Ortolan Bunting in Essex, that was not a lifer but a good opportunity to see that species well in spring.

Citrine Wagtail (from left) female, juvenile and male

The second item of interest was a female Citrine Wagtail on the Severn estuary. This lifer is expanding westward from it’s closest breeding grounds, with increasing numbers of British records in passage seasons, though more usually in far flung parts of the kingdom that are beyond my preferred range. But foul weather was forecast and so an edgy wait ensued. While the Ortolan moved on the Citrine stayed put and so on Sunday morning I set off.

For the past four days the latter bird had frequented Pilning Wetland (ST550864), a small local reserve in south Gloucestershire behind the sea wall between the two Severn road bridges. On 25th it had been joined by a male briefly, before the latter relocated westward to the Taff valley north of Merthyr Tydfil. Arriving at the first of those sites at around 9:15am, I made the perhaps 500 metre walk out to where a small group of birders clearly had located my quest.

Within minutes the female Citrine Wagtail came into view, perched high on the nearest expanse of mud to her observers, much like in the picture below borrowed, I hope agreeably from the local website Severnside Birds. (If not I will remove the image.) It was a really cracking view that was unlikely to be bettered, and so it proved. By the time I set up my disgiscoping kit the bird had gone back into cover.

The Severnside Citrine Wagtail (fem) © and with thanks to Paul Bowerman

This was indeed a very attractive Wagtail; her subtle, lemon yellow tones, slate grey upper parts, striking white wing bars and pale cheeks rendering her quite different from any other of that genus I have observed previously. I remarked to my companions how there were no photographers amongst us. Indeed I was the only person present with a camera and I soon appreciated why. Over the next 2½ hours the bird did not present another similar opportunity, becoming flighty and only being seen distantly as over her previous days here.

As I waited patiently with my digiscoping kit now set up, the bird was relocated after some 30 minutes in a ploughed area away to our left where most prior sightings had come from. Then she flew a circuit, calling as she went before re-settling in the ploughed area. The flight call is louder and harsher than Yellow Wagtail, so I understand. She returned to the original mud just once but only very briefly and hence I was not to get any pictures. But at all times this bird’s rather under-stated and alluring attractiveness stood out wherever she went.

By 11am things were becoming too crowded for my liking. This must be a popular spot with both the general public and those with a more general interest in the site than the visiting twitchers. The number and common-ness of different birds now being called and discussed became quite distracting as I continued to seek out the scarcity in the forlorn hope of taking its picture. And so at around midday I moved on.

Citrine Wagtail © rights of owner reserved

My research reveals Citrine Wagtail has a very wide global range, breeding from the Arctic and sub-Arctic to the sub-tropics. It is a summer visitor to parts of central and eastern Europe, this population wintering mainly in India and south-east Asia. Breeding females are said to suggest a dusky-backed Yellow Wagtail, while juvenile and first winter birds recall pale White Wagtail. Though breeding males show a fully yellow head and underparts, the head’s contrast with the black neck-shawl is diagnostic.

As I approach 350 British birds, mostly within 150 miles of Oxford, the intervals between list additions are increasing. But this was another tricky species that had come to he who waited and this time around 85 miles from home. And in retrospect the buzz that comes from getting on the road to track down new birds is definitely something I have missed in the last three months. Next, please!

Despite my oft-stated predilection for the new and different, one thing I always do each spring is seek out that most subtle, delicate and ever charming little butterfly, the Green Hairstreak. This is because for me the first sightings of any new season are a heart gladdening and soul quenching experience the like of which is difficult to match in the insect world.

“We are from the future not the past. We are not static, we evolve” – Robert Plant, 1995

The singer’s sentiment above, expressed when I saw Page and Plant at the NEC Arena in 1995, is something I have identified with quite closely since. And it certainly equates with my year on year approach to observing wildlife as reported in this journal. Easter at home provided what were lauded as record breaking temperatures for the holiday weekend. So two fair weather days were the cue to set out again on Easter Monday and re-find if not re-define one of my most favourite of butterflies that were beginning to be reported.

Green Hairstreak at Linky Down, Oxon

My choice of location as usual was Aston Rowant NNR on the Chilterns escarpment. The reserve is split in two by the M40 motorway, and I visited the northern side first, known as Beacon Hill that has been the more reliable GH location in recent years. There in the margin between the chalk hillside and the wooded slope of the “sunken way” trail I located about six butterflies, and a mild buzz from the satisfaction of a new season’s communion coursed through me as in every April. But that habitat is low lying and faces into the sun, so composing acceptable, properly lit and contrasted pictures would be difficult.

Hence I moved across to Linky Down, on the reserve’s southern section that is possibly my favourite site of all for the species. Here Hawthorn hedges and scrub are re-generating after being cut severely by English nature in recent year’s as part of its management plan. The sun would be behind me now and I hoped to encounter Green Hairstreak posing higher up. That is exactly what happened as I walked downhill and came across a specimen perched on soon to open Hawthorn blossom at eye level. All the images in this post were captured at this spot, and probably match my better past results.

After a first picture session, during which the butterfly kept stock still for periods and allowed a close approach with my macro lens, I rambled on along the path. Four more GH were flying lower down, after I had stopped to talk to a birder who had located a female Ring Ouzel on the slopes below. The site is a well-known staging post for those migrant upland thrushes, and it was my second record of the bird there this spring. Seeing so many Hairstreaks was reassuring as they have been much more difficult to find at this once classic site since the habitat was cut.

Returning to the aforementioned Hawthorn on the way back, after stopping to watch the “Rouzel” for a while, a second Green Hairstreak was now present and competing for the space with my original subject. Hence the butterflies were both more restless and flighty so gaining comparable images proved difficult to achieve. This (below) was the only one worth retaining from the second session. So after spending more time there I headed home at around 4pm feeling largely satisfied with my first home outing of the new butterfly season.

I am of course not a photographer and possess only obsolete, entry level equipment that I cannot get my head around the technicality of. But the picture collection additions acquired today are nonetheless pleasing enough in their way, if a little “soft focus” and continued improvement is always the aim. New birds to see in Britain are more and more a diminishing return, and March was the first month without a post in this journal since I started compiling it. So the new insect season is very welcome and in the months ahead I intend to do as much work as evolved treatment of past material might allow. Watch this space.

After three days based at Alexandroupoli near the border between Greece and Turkey the tour re-located westward to seek out more butterfly specialities of the region. The Rodopi are a long mountain range across north-east Greece that forms the land border with Bulgaria. The fragmented peaks and deep gorges of the higher western section supports an especially rich flora and fauna with numerous endemic plants, due to a mixture of central European and Mediterranean elements.

From our base at a village, Volakas in the western Rodopi we attempted to explore various sites over the final two days. I had been attracted to this tour by the opportunity to add a number of early flying species to my life list that I reasoned might be more tricky to observe later in the season. Those included Southern, Mountain and Krueper’s Small Whites, Grüner’s Orange Tip, Eastern Greenish Blacktip, Small Bath White and Powdered Brimstone; that I would rely on the expert leadership to identify.

Of those targets Grüner’s Orange Tip was the only butterfly located due to continued wet weather, and the fourth trip lifer. After my success in finding Moroccan Orange Tip and getting pictures of Greenish Blacktip in February (see here), experiencing another regional member of the genus was high on my wish list. Grüner’s is on the wing from March to May in Greece, the southern Balkans, Turkey and eastward as far as Iran.

Grüner’s Orange Tip

By comparison with the regular Orange Tip seen in Great Britain, Grüner’s (pictured above) is smaller with lemon-yellow suffusion in its upper side and greener-toned wing tips. In tone and colouring it thus appears perhaps mid way between the regular and bright yellow Moroccan and Provence Orange Tips I had observed previously. This item was flying in good numbers at Potami on the Despatis River below Mount Falakro.

Regular Orange Tip for comparison (both pictures)

Missing out on the other trip targets can only be described as disappointing. Our transfer day (12th) during which a two hour stop was planned at Nestos Gorge, that could have yielded the different Small Whites, was washed out in spectacular fashion. Then on the final day (14th), when we visited Mount Orvilos, cloud and rain followed wherever we tried to reach brighter skies, setting in as soon as and every time the group got out from the minibuses. By then the relentlessness of the weather pattern that dogged this trip was frustrating me so much that I just wanted to get out of there and on the plane back home.

The tour’s second window of opportunity had occurred on Saturday (13th) when numbers of butterflies were encountered in prolonged sunshine at the Potami site. Wood White was recorded several times through the week and now there was the opportunity to compare the regular and Eastern species. In the top row pictures below the all brown antennae tips and white patch on the unh wing are diagnostic of Eastern Wood White.

Eastern Wood White (male)

Eastern Wood White (male)

Regular Wood White for comparison

Egg laying female Wood White

This was a clearer identification for me than at nearby Mount Vrondou in May 2017. The spring populations of EWW are the easiest to distinguish from other species because of these distinctive heavy underside markings. The Balkan populations, including those in Greece, form the western limit of the main range of the species and occur as a separate sub-species to the outlier populations in north-western Italy and south-west France.

Three blues of the region were also active at Potami. I was able to get pictures of female Eastern Baton Blue (below, left) for the first time, a species I had experienced once before in southern Greece last July. This tiny east-European blue flies in two broods from April to June, then in July and August. I also captured my first open-winged images of Green-underside Blue here (centre), after another had posed nicely on some Asphodel (right) earlier in the week. I had observed the common and very widespread species once before too, in les Cévennes in May 2016.

Eastern Baton Blue (fem)

Green-underside Blue

Green-underside Blue

The third of these Euro-blues at Potami was the attractively patterned Chequered Blue, another species that I first observed in les Cévennes towards the western end of its range. This butterfly (below), that occurs through much of south-eastern Europe, displays marked regional variation and is on the wing earlier in this area of Greece than elsewhere. I also found Short-tailed Blue for the first time at one stop on 14th, but did not get a publishable picture.

Chequered Blue

Chequered Blue

Two Fritillaries produced half decent images at different sites. I had gone into this trip still needing an acceptable top-side study of the pan-European ranging though English vagrant Queen of Spain Fritillary. The picture (below right) is possibly as close as I have come yet. The two under-side images from a site, Granitis earlier on 13th are quite pleasing if allowance is made for the butterfly’s rather contrived re-positioning.

Queen of Spain Fritillary

Queen of Spain Fritillary

Another fairly widespread European fritillary I had recorded just once before in les Cévennes is Weaver’s Fritillary. Also at Granitis I gained under-side studies for the first time, that are rather attractive though likewise contrived. This triple brooded species is also known as the Violet Fritillary due to the purplish hue of the unh wings that the pictures (below) show quite well. They fly from April to September.

Weaver’s Fritillary

Weaver’s Fritillary

Weaver’s Fritillary

I would not recommend this tour except for seeing False Apollo, simply because the weather during that ultra-rarity’s flight period appears to be so unpredictable. Gaining my other trip targets was always going to be a gamble, as is booking travel to observe butterflies in advance anywhere; and most of what I missed may also be seen later in the season. I feel I am due some respite now after untypical conditions during or leading up to my trips to Sardinia and southern Greece last summer also impacted adversely upon what could be seen in those places, and the same was true in les Cévennes in 2016.

The trip just described had tip-top leadership, very knowledgeable participants and a good group dynamic; but for me that all counts for little when the conditions were so unforgivingly foul for much of the time. The bottom line was that after just two wet days this year in Greece prior to our arrival we had sunshine for parts of just two days in the field. That is butterflying of course, and I am well used to the grey stuff following me from my home just the short distance to the Chilterns escarpment. Translate that into seven days in a far flung corner of hopefully sunny southern Europe and I consider this experience was moderate value for the £1500 spent, purely due to the weather of course and in no way a reflection upon the tour operator.

The tour group outside our hotel in Volakas: from left Mel Mason (Malvern), Tony Moore, Liz Mason, Dave Potter (Worthing), Nick Ballard at rear (Hull), Bernard Watts (Norwich), Mel Lloyd (Weymouth), Liz Lloyd, Helen Burnett (Solihull), Aidan Whitfield (Bedford), myself (Oxford), Emma Whitfield, Martin Warren (leader) and Michael de Courcy Williams (guide)

The full species count for this-two centre tour, with life-list additions in bold, is: Swallowtail (P m gorganus), Scarce Swallowtail, (Eastern Festoon), Southern Festoon, False Apollo, Large White, Small White, Green-veined White, (Eastern Bath White), Eastern Dappled White, Orange Tip, Grüner’s Orange Tip, Clouded Yellow, Brimstone, Wood White, Eastern Wood White, Green Hairstreak, Small Copper, Grecian Copper, Sooty Copper, Short-tailed Blue, Green-underside Blue, Chequered Blue, Eastern Baton Blue, Brown Argus, Camberwell Beauty, Peacock Butterfly, Large Tortoiseshell, Red Admiral, Map Butterfly, Painted Lady, Queen of Spain Fritillary, Weaver’s Fritillary, Small Heath, Speckled Wood (P a aegeria), Wall Brown, Grizzled Skipper, (Oberthür’s Grizzled Skipper), Mallow Skipper, Dingy Skipper – total 40

(Butterflies in parentheses were seen by other group members but not myself).

False Apollo is one of Europe’s rarest butterflies, occurring very locally just in the far north-east of Greece, some Aegean islands and possibly parts of southern Bulgaria. They are single brooded and on the wing only in March and April, very early in the season so this rather special item is unlikely to be observed without particular intent. Hence I joined a 12-strong group tour run by Greenwings, that operator’s first of the 2019 season.

This expedition was led by former Butterfly Conservation CEO Dr Martin Warren, with local guiding by the eminent Alexandroupolis-based conservationist Dr Michael de Courcy Williams. But no matter how excellent such direction might be butterflies will still only come out when the sun shines, and therein lies the story of this post.

Male False Apollo

False Apollo’s stronghold in the region we visited lies in the Evros Hills near the border with Turkey and to the north of Alexandroupolis. Here many upland streams occur, along which biologically important but little studied Oak and Oriental Plane woodland has developed that supports a diverse flora and fauna. On our first visit on 10th conditions remained steadfastly overcast and no Apollos were found. But we did locate a number of roosting Southern Festoon, another regional speciality that was a very welcome and attractive lifer for me. With this trip’s sightings I have now observed three European members of that colourful genus, the others being Eastern and Spanish Festoons.

Southern Festoon occurs widely but locally across south-eastern Europe, as well as throughout Italy and in some Alpine regions, flying from late March to July. The cold and damp conditions of this tour meant the beautiful and boldly patterned butterflies were quite easy to capture pictorially, especially since my colleagues were adept at “wrangling” the near torpid specimens into photogenic positions then “gardening” around them to remove unwanted clutter.

Southern Festoon

Southern Festoon

Besides a few roosting Coppers not much else was seen on day one, other than at a lower location where the sun came out briefly. In the evening our leaders thanked the group for our forbearance and good humour, and everyone was prepared to accept one largely written off day to begin with. The various weather apps in our possession all predicted better things to come in the days ahead. But despite a brighter start on 11th at our coastal base conditions were unchanged when we arrived back on site.

On our leaving the tour minibuses this time two of the Festoons were on exactly the same perches where we had left them the previous day, indicating there could have been no sunny intervals during our absence. If anything it was now even colder here and walking around it was plain we would draw blank with the Apollos again.

Before leaving I took an opportunity to do some close up macro work with one of the Festoons (below, left), and was at once joined by more group members. Having done justice to the under-wings I next learned another field technique of warming up torpid butterflies by cupping them in the hands then breathing on them. Thus treated the Festoon obliged by opening its wings flat and another sequence of up close images was gained (below, right).

Southern Festoon

Southern Festoon

If any reader disapproves of all this I can only say it appears to be common practice amongst such highly knowledgeable company as I was in, much like netting and jarring on previous wildlife tours I had joined. Everywhere else we went on day two cloud and rain set in as soon as we reached any hitherto sunny looking spot, and by evening the group was understandably feeling a little more glum.

When day three (12th) dawned in just the same dull and drizzly way chins were mostly resting on the breakfast table. But an ex-naval man amongst us pointed out a weather front coming in off the sea with whiter cloud behind it, saying that was a good sign. Indeed it was and fairer weather followed us up into the hills. Good numbers of various butterflies were then on the wing and by mid-morning False Apollo were being located. At this time of day they are likely to be basking in any sunshine by settling on dirt, low plants or occasionally rocks.

False Apollo (male)

False Apollo (male)

The record shot (above, left) was my first view of a translucent fore-winged male, that was then coaxed into a more open position (above, right) before flying off. Next a much darker-toned female was located also down in the grass, before being encouraged to mount a stone where she finished warming up with the day. After the group had all taken their pictures I again went in point blank with my macro, gaining some acceptable images and a lot more burred ones as is usual (for me) with such a lens.

False Apollo (female)

False Apollo (female)

False Apollo (female)

False Apollo (female)

Mission having been accomplished the group then began to split up and go their various ways. I too wandered off alone and soon came across another male False Apollo that this time I had to myself for a while. The images below came from this third encounter, complete with those amazing see-through wings. This quality increases with age as butterflies lose wing scaling, more so in males than females, and in older specimens the fore-wings can be near completely transparent.

False Apollo (male)

False Apollo (male)

False Apollo (male)

The situation, it’s scenery and butterfly life were all a transformation upon the previous two days. This is what I pay the money to do: wander around remote locations that nobody except wildlife enthusiasts go to; enjoying and taking pictures of the infinitely intricate, inspiring and captivating treasure trove that butterflies are (when the sun shines). The mood of the group was of course similarly uplifted and we remained on site until late in the afternoon.

The unfettered Southern Festoon were now flying freely and striking up more conventional and natural, if somewhat grassy poses (pictured below). To me this species appeared smaller than the other two European Festoons, and there was some agreement within the group over this. A few participants also found one or two of the larger, paler Eastern Festoon which I have seen once before but need better pictures of; but that will still have to wait.

Southern Festoon (above and below)

Southern Festoon

Southern Festoon

Eastern Festoon © and courtesy of Nick Ballard

Good numbers of Sooty and Grecian Copper were also on the wing here and I was able to boost my picture collection with better top-side studies of male Sooty and some under-wing treatments of both genders. I had previously observed male Sooty in the Cévennes, France (May 2016) and females in southern Greece (July 2018) where I also recorded Grecian for the first time. The very widespread Sooty is multi-brooded from April to October across much of Europe except for the Iberian peninsula and fenno-Scandia. The vivid orange Grecian is limited to the country of it’s name and the southern Balkans, with two broods flying in April and May, then July and August.

Sooty Copper (male)

Sooty Copper (male)

Sooty Copper (male)

Sooty Copper (female)

Sooty Copper (male)

Sooty Copper (female)

Grecian Copper (all pictures)

Another frequent flyer in sunlight was Eastern Dappled White, a common species of south-eastern Europe and Italy, and the third trip lifer. Had I searched carefully enough here or possessed a net and jar these locations might also have yielded the similar Eastern and Small Bath White. I previously recorded the first of those in southern Greece last summer, while the latter was on my trip wish list here; but nobody seemed very interested in this genus and so it was possibly rather overlooked.

Eastern Dappled White (all pictures)

Lastly the default butterfly for this trip was Painted Lady. 2019 is tipped as an irruption year similar to the mass migration of this species a decade ago. In Fuerteventura in January (see here) I was struck by the huge numbers that in places appeared to make the ground shimmer, as was a colleague from my southern Greece tour who was on Gran Canaria at the same time. On the day of our arrival in Alexandroupolis, despite at times torrential rain many hundreds of these very hardy butterflies were coming in off the sea and roosting on the structure of our hotel. Wherever we went in the next three days there was a constant procession of powerfully flying Painted Lady all moving relentlessly northward. The evidence seems to be that another great migration is in progress so look out in Blighty this summer, here they come.

Migrating Painted Lady

Returning to the little known though greatly prized False Apollo, these are seriously beautiful insects indeed, quite unlike any other European butterfly I have experienced. Their rarity was perhaps put into context for me by one of the most experienced tour participants, who had recorded all but six of the known European species prior to this trip. So that is now five, what an achievement! Further populations occur to the east in Turkey, Iraq, Syria, Jordan, Israel and Lebanon; and there are a number of sub-species across that range. To protect the fragile Greek population from the attentions of collectors I have not disclosed any location detail herein, by agreement with the tour operator.

As is my custom I began this trip with a walking day, out to the Kasbah hill and back. After climbing to the top with birds mostly in mind, then walking back down again I explored a gully that runs alongside a road around the hill’s western side. This struck me at once as likely good butterfly habitat, being sheltered with wild flowers in places, and it did not disappoint. I returned here for a couple of hours on three of the next four afternoons, recording 15 common species of the region including two lifers and a north-west African sub-species.

Near the top of any loose agenda I might have had for this trip was obtaining publishable pictures of Greenish Blacktip. This is a common and widespread butterfly of hot, dry, rocky places that occurs across north Africa, through the Middle East and as far as the Indian sub-continent. I had observed them during both my early year visits to Fuerteventura, but only gained pictures previously of worn individuals.

Greenish Blacktip (all pictures)

It now took all four of those above mentioned sessions to gain the open-winged picture in the above sequence (bottom, right). Interestingly this butterfly is nectaring on the same plant as the GBT captured by one of my Swedish field colleagues in Costa Calma last month (see here). Like our closely related Orange Tip at home this is a restless and fast flying species that only settles fleetingly, often on delicate, swaying perches; and they constantly relocate. But with perseverance I was able to gain some half-decent underside studies and so was largely satisfied with the outcome.

I was as pleased to find good numbers of bright yellow-toned Moroccan Orange Tip (pictured below) flying here. That welcome lifer frequents edges of cultivation, flowery places, woodland edges and scrub land as early as February in Morocco south of the Atlas Mountains but not until March further north. There are two sub-species, this one Anthocharis bella of the Maghreb region; and A b euphenoides that ranges through the Iberian peninsula into the far south of France. I had previously recorded the latter in Provence in May 2016 (see here).

Moroccan Orange Tip

Moroccan Orange Tip

All four of the species referred to so far are equally difficult to capture pictorially but now each is represented in this journal’s butterfly gallery. The African Grass Blue here were mostly well worn compared to those I observed in Fuerteventura, but the picture (below, top left) is quite pleasing. Since I am presently suffering from wear and tear in my left leg, performing the on hands and knees contortions that are required to gain acceptable pictures of such tiny butterflies was quite difficult.

African Grass Blue

African Babel Blue © and courtesy of Lars Theng

Common Blue (f celina)

I also hoped to locate African Babel Blue (above, bottom left) this week, that unbeknown to me at the time was on the wing in Costa Calma during my January visit there; but I was not successful. By way of partial compensation I did record the Maghreb sub-species of Common Blue (f celina), for which the clearest diagnostic appeared to be the broken black inner margin to the upper-side hind-wing (pictured above, right).

The week’s second lifer in the Agadir location was False Mallow Skipper (pictured below) that in the Maghreb region replaces the common and widespread Mallow Skipper of central and southern Europe. The two species are virtually impossible to tell apart in the field, being largely another male genitalia matter. FMS also ranges into the Iberian peninsula and a few Greek islands but the overlap between the two species is not fully understood. Bits job or not this was a further welcome addition of a tricky species to my life list.

False Mallow Skipper

False Mallow Skipper

Amongst more familiar butterflies Clouded Yellow (below left), Small Copper (below right), Wall Brown and Painted Lady were all well represented at this site; with smaller numbers of Cleopatra and southern Speckled Wood. Bath White (middle row, below) were looking nice and fresh, while the Small White here (bottom row) were of the pale toned first brood form.

Clouded Yellow

Small Copper

Small White (first brood)

Something a little more unusual was Spotted Fritillary (Melitaea didyma) of which a few were on the wing here at what must be the very beginning of their flight season. There are several forms of this species across its entire range and I believe those I encountered here were M d occidentalis that occurs in north-west Africa, the southern Iberian peninsula, the Balkans and Greece. I had only gained acceptable underside images of this butterfly previously, so the open-winged studies in this collage (below) were very welcome.

Spotted Fritillary (all pictures)

Spotted Fritillary

Through a rather hassle-prone week in Morocco I was never more content than when returning at the end of each day to this gully below the Kasbah, to prospect for butterfly pictures with nobody to bother me. That is the great benefit of an interest in insects, since wherever I might be in the world any piece of waste ground can be full of life and hence stimulating and motivating. There were also good numbers of slim, medium-sized, yellow toned dragonflies here that I suspect were immature Epaulet Skimmer, but they at no time settled. Elsewhere it was clearly the Odonata close season.

The roadside gully below Agadir’s Kasbah described in this post

The butterfly list for this trip (with lifers in bold) at this site and elsewhere was: Small White, Bath White, Greenish Blacktip, Moroccan Orange Tip, Clouded Yellow, Cleopatra, Small Copper, African Grass Blue, Lang’s Short-tailed Blue, Common Blue (f celina) , Plain Tiger, Red Admiral, Painted Lady, Spotted Fritillary, Speckled Wood (P a Aegeria), Wall Brown, False Mallow Skipper – 17

Since my first visit to Atlantic Morocco in December 2015 I have regarded a then close-up encounter with these much sought birds as possibly my best ever self-found birding moment (see here). Now following an uncannily similar experience last week (10 – 16th) I wonder if such occurrences are in fact not so unusual there. At any rate, during this repeat tripette lightning certainly chose to strike twice in more or less the same place.

Northern Bald Ibis

The Parc National de Tamri lies 60 km north of Agadir, and just south of the coastal town of the same name. One of the region’s two historic Northern Bald Ibis flocks may be found anywhere around the large promontory of Cape Rhir and is also now expanding north of the town. All the wildlife tour operators and their clients come here to see them, and that is where I headed on my first day with a hire car (11th) this time around.

I stopped first at the location where the N1 coast road turns sharply inland towards Tamri (pictured below). Here there is a small parking area from where the Oued Tinkert estuary can be scanned. This bay can hold large concentrations of Gulls, but I could not locate Audouin’s, my favourite Gull this time. But two larger black items flying away high to the north could only have been Bald Ibis. Feeling relieved that the viewpoint was free of hustlers on this occasion, I then drove on to the town itself to take pictures in it’s Souk (market).

The mouth of the Oued Tinkert at Tamri

Three years ago coming here had been my first experience of driving in Morocco but I had not taken the time then to record ordinary street scenes of daily life. Doing so was something I very much wanted to add to the trip experience this time. Nobody seemed too bothered by a foreigner walking around pointing a camera at them, though I suppose the locals must be used to it. Neither was I pestered as is the norm in Agadir, or indeed Oxford.

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After this I headed back south along the coast road, stopping at a random place and there were the birds, 30-something of them all grazing the land that sloped away from the roadside down to the shoreline. Just as in 2015 I stayed inside the car and the Northern Bald Ibis all walked towards and then past me, the nearest birds feeding just metres from my vehicle. Their purple and green iridescence shimmered as they moved in the bright sunlight while they probed deeply into the soft ground with their long, down-curved bills. It was difficult to believe I had been this lucky not only at the first attempt now but also twice in two visits here.

Northern Bald Ibis from my hire car window

After a while three birds actually began to walk across the metalled road. A speeding truck sent this lead group into the air, at which many more Ibis went up from the ground away to my right and most of the flock re-settled away to the other side of the road. They were now into the sun so I crossed over myself and got out of the car. A youth then approached noisily along the road towards me, shouting and waving his arms as if he was showing me the birds, and putting up even more. The locals here are all primed to take their chance with any foreign birders they might come across.

When my assailant did eventually ask for money, rather late in the proceedings by Moroccan norms, he didn’t get because I had self-found the NBI flock again, not him. After two such easy connects I must assume these birds are not difficult to locate here, and the youth told me they graze along the N1 road here all day, every day. So if observers move carefully along the coast around Cape Rhir scanning from all likely looking vantage points in turn, these most sought NBI are likely to drop in at one time or another.

Purple and green irridescent NBI

Muddy billed NBI

When I first came here in Dec 2015, Northern Bald Ibis was still regarded as one of the world’s rarest birds. Since then they have enjoyed something of a renaissance and in 2018 the species was removed from the IUCN critically endangered list, now being classified as endangered. In that year Morocco’s two viable wild colonies (at Tamri and in the Souss-Massa National Park south of Agadir) reached a record number of 780 birds, up from 590 in 2017. Amongst those 147 breeding pairs fledged 170 chicks. At Tamri 66 breeding pairs produced 60 chicks, with a success rate of 30%. For further detail see here.

Studies also indicate that the southern Moroccan population is enjoying a breeding range expansion. In 2017 two new breeding colonies and a third roosting colony were found  between 30 and 35km north of the Tamri stronghold (see here). North-west African (or Maghreb) conservation bodies regard this recent revival as quite exceptional.

“Who says only our mothers love us?”

Grazing Northern Bald Ibis

I didn’t go on this trip with any well-defined wildlife agenda. The dual purpose was more to see whether re-visiting places can be motivating, and to break up the remaining time before English summer time resumes. That lack of an intensive itinerary allowed me to spend more time on some of the things I had done in Dec 2015, as well as simply experiencing daily life around Agadir, without the pressure of working through a trip wish list. Most of the birds I gained acceptable pictures of were common species of the Maghreb (NW African) region.

The Kasbah from Agadir Marina

The Kasbah Hill just to the north of Agadir and its environs seemed as good a place as any to watch birds, and many of this post’s remaining pictures were taken there. Since I also devoted some effort to capturing images of tricky little butterflies, birds would also enter the mix at intervals and offer good opportunities. Moussier’s Redstart (below) was a case in point. Several times through the week they would suddenly announce themselves then appear out of nowhere, usually perching quite prominently. This stylish and classy looking item probably remains my favourite Maroc passerine.

Moussier’s Redstart

Busy and playful, not to mention noisy Common Bulbul were plentiful everywhere. This is a widespread and successful resident breeder across much of Africa, often being encountered in pairs or small groups. The pictures below were taken from my hotel balcony.

Common Bulbul

Two more frequent urban species are House Bunting and Maghreb Magpie. The former (below, left) behaves very much like Sparrows at home, mopping up the detritus of human activity and getting around people’s feet in pavement cafés for instance. But despite their abundance in Morocco I only came across two around Agadir all week. The latter (below, right) that is characterised by it’s blue ear patches, was split as a species during 2018.

House Bunting

Maghreb Magpie

The Southern Grey Shrike (ssp algeriensis) in these pictures (below), one of what looked like a resident pair below the Kasbah, allowed a very close approach. In that location there is a complex road junction with drainage channels running through it, that I have found to be a good spot for local birding during both my Agadir-based trips. The white orbs on the bush in the lower sequence are snails not fruit.

Southern Grey Shrike

Southern Grey Shrike

Laughing Dove is my favourite of that genus, since I find their subtly blended tones highly attractive. This smaller, rather slim species would stand out sometimes from the far more plentiful city Collared Doves and Feral Pigeons, as in these pictures (below) also taken at the Shrike location below the Kasbah.

Laughing Dove

Lastly, Crested Lark is such a commonplace bird wherever I go abroad that I rarely pay much attention to them. But a number of times this week, whilst I was otherwise pre-occupied, they would come so close and present such photogenic opportunities that I did bother to boost my collection with a few more pictures (below) of them.

Crested Lark

The answer to whether retro-tripettes can be motivating was “partially”, since for me a specific wildlife agenda is the main factor in avoiding feelings of loneliness or anxiety when travelling solo (in case anyone ever wonders); and the more that is new and different the better I cope. I was in no way expecting to cover the classic and mainly desert species that most usually bring foreign birders to Morocco, since those were all much too distant from my base. Indeed I at no time intended to stray very far from Agadir.

The length of time it takes to get anywhere in this country is a significant issue, and there are various pitfalls for the unwary when driving. Low speed limits, slow moving local vehicles, long stretches of road where overtaking is prohibited and police everywhere all serve to make journeys last far longer than expected. Add to that pot holes, hazardous carriageway margins, punctures and issues I had with local hire company shenanigans, and this could hardly be described as an especially relaxing trip.

Greater Flamingo along the Souss estuary south of Agadir

Common Bulbul …

… and Crested Lark atop Kasbah hill, Agadir

If I go to Morocco again it will probably be on an organised group trip with one of the wildlife tour operators, if I can at length face up to the prospect of hours couped up in mini-buses with elderly convenience company over such long distances. But hey, all this beat another cold, dull and largely birdless week at home as winter moved towards its close in Blighty.

I have been in danger of developing a preoccupation with Smew over the last two months. That could be because as new and different birds become a diminishing return as my national list grows, my attention has turned more to uncommon winter staples instead. But this is also a difficult bird to observe closely or get pictures of in my experience, and doing so can require some working at. Hence the several shorter-range outings I have undertaken at intervals to help fill some mid-winter days.

Dapper, white and black drake Smew are by any standards striking and handsome birds. Nothing else resembles them and so to my mind they are one of the most iconic local birds of midwinter. My previous experience has come mainly from different gravel pit complexes around my home county of Oxon, but this winter the species has so far given us a miss. In that absence near to home I have so far travelled to Herts twice, Leics twice and Worcs three times to seek them out; and it took until today to enjoy a truly satisfying encounter.

Drake Smew (left) and Shoveler at Kemerton Lake NR

This morning a bird was still present 65 miles away near a Worcs village Kemerton, between Cheltenham and Evesham, so I decided on a second attempt there. Smew are prone to moving around several sites over an area, or between different gravel pits in large complexes, and so my first visit here on 21st had been unsuccessful. Needless to say my target returned the following day and remained on most days in the interim. And so around the middle of today (27th) I arrived at Kemerton Lake NR (SO937362), a pleasing and well-kept reserve that is managed by a local conservation trust (see here).

There are hides at the north and south ends of the lake and a permissive path runs around all four sides of the site. I opted for the shorter walk to the southern hide first and soon picked out my quest closer to the northern hide. Once relocated within that facility I spent the next two hours in the Smew’s company while seeking my first ever pictorial records of them.

At first this drake remained faithful to an area away to the hide’s right and close to the shore. This was typical of how I had observed Smew in the past, since in my experience they tend when either feeding or resting to favour lake edges where they might become concealed in marginal vegetation. Today’s bird remained mostly in the open, but since it was diving constantly getting adequate records remained difficult.

Drake Smew (both pictures)

After about an hour the Smew had possibly eaten it’s fill and so began to drift across the water’s surface in front of and closer to the hide. Now I was able to obtain some half decent images (above) that will have to suffice for now. By 15:30 pm the bird had moved quite some way from the hide again, and so I decided to head for home before dusk feeling largely satisfied with what had transpired.

Through my two hours here I was joined in the hide by three families, engaging with whom added greatly to an enjoyable ambience. It was a real pleasure to share the space with knowledgeable parents, quietly and lovingly teaching their young children about birds. That was also quite a contrast with the more noisy and obtrusive experience that is now the norm on RSPB reserves, for instance.

My aforementioned interest in these taiga-breeding visitors had begun before Christmas at Cheshunt GPs in Herts. This large complex is an annual wintering ground for the species, and was where I saw my first ever Smew in Feb 1985 when I lived in that area. On my first recent visit I located a drake after much searching that fairly soon dived not to appear again. Going back a few days later I was unsuccessful, since when most reports have come from one of the biggest pits where viewing could be distant.

One of this winter’s best Smew sites has been Eyebrook Reservoir in Leics, where 15 or more individuals have been sighted on some days. I visited there over the Christmas period locating a largish group, but though that was a good experience at a superb site for wildlife, my views were always distant. Moving on that day to Rutland Water I encountered three “red heads”, the immature or female form of Smew at closer quarters. I returned to Eyebrook on my way home from Holkham NNR on 28th Dec but the Smew were not in sight on that occasion.

A possible closer encounter suggested itself around that time, when two drakes were photographed on a private fishing lake at Holt, Worcs from an adjacent right of way. When I tried there and at nearby Grimley GPs on New Year’s Eve, I met local birders who recounted how the Smew in question had frequented various places in their county over the previous several weeks. But of the birds themselves that day there was no sign.

Given this propensity for moving around between sites, I suspect the Kemerton bird is one of those two drakes. And so all this has reached a satisfactory conclusion. Perhaps I have now paid sufficient attention to Smew for the time being, but still hope for one or more in God’s own county (Oxon) before winter’s end.

I feel on a roll now. After two days taken up largely by writing, picture editing and housework following my Fuerteventura trip, I was ready for the road again by Tuesday (15th). The excess energy and inner tension that arise from a preference to stay active had built up again upon my return. To relieve it there was a choice of going for a tricky little lifer, Hume’s in East Sussex or trying again for the Norfolk Shorelarks. I opted for the former since they were nearer (115 cf 150 miles) and the latter were likely to stick around for longer.

Hume’s Leaf Warbler © rights of owner reserved

Holkham Shorelark (record shot)

Hume’s Leaf Warbler (also known as Hume’s Yellow-browed Warbler – pictured above, left) is one of three autumn drift migrant Warblers that still occur in Britain into mid-winter. The others are the closely related Yellow-browed and Dusky, both of which are on my British and hence Westpal and life lists. I had previously dipped Hume’s twice in Dorset exactly seven years ago, an experience that entailed staring at a dense bank of vegetation for hours for no reward.

That served to put me off going for another one until now, and so Hume’s lingered amongst three other regular drift migrants – Greenish and Marsh Warblers, and Olive-backed Pipit – that I still need and really ought to have gained by now. I anticipated today might be a necessary chore, involving getting through the most perennially traffic choked section of the M25 motorway (between the M40 and A3), then another unforgiving stake-out on site. But in the event I cannot recall the south-western M25 being so un-congested, and the connect was surprisingly simple as well.

A fortunate feeling grew further when upon my arrival on the northern edge of the port of Newhaven, around nine miles east of Brighton, a parking space awaited rather invitingly in the access road to the Hume’s site (TQ 44299 02192). There I did my credentials for becoming a proper birder typical harm by polishing off a particularly delicious pasty from Pease Pottage services on the A23, rather than running for the target. Thus sated, I then “sauntered” as is my wont into Riverside Park, a former landfill site and the location quoted on RBA.

Those directions said opposite a waste incinerator (that is actually on the far side of the river) and as I approached two other birders were walking away unsuccessfully. They advised me to listen for a call not unlike Pied Wagtail. Setting up my chair I next saw off an as tasty M&S Wensleydale and carrot chutney sandwich (more food!) before at last starting to go about things more seriously.

The young tree scrub habitat here on the re-generating landfill site looked excellent for warblers, but though less dense than that previous Dorset location there was also a lot of it in which the Hume’s might be skulking. Two more birders had now arrived and we all began to search in different places. Ever incorrigible, I moved my chair to a clearing from which I could scan a good area of habitat, Googled the bird to check on it’s diagnostics, then sat and waited. That seemed preferable to walking around and risking the bird flying off ahead as I went. Five hours in that forest park in Costa Calma had clearly had some influence on my mind set.

Blue Tit, Robin and Chaffinch all moved through, before after maybe 20 minutes I indeed heard a call such as had been described to me. A small and very different passerine, the Hume’s Leaf Warbler had landed in the top of the nearest clump of saplings, rather like in the outsourced picture below. Oh that I could always enjoy such luck, but on this occasion at least my laid back approach had paid dividends. It was now 13:25pm.

Hume’s Leaf Warbler © rights of owner reserved

Over the next 40 minutes the Hume’s came and went several more times, always announcing itself with a pronounced dsu-weet call. In this period more birders also congregated here and all got to see the Warbler well. I understand that vocalisation is the easiest way to identify Hume’s, since for non-expert observers such as myself the plumage closely resembles Yellow-browed (whilst being generally drabber). The species breeds in central Asia and the most extensive wintering area is the Indian sub-continent. Yellow-browed, from which Hume’s was separated by the BOURC in 1997, has a more northerly Siberian breeding range.

At 14:15pm it began to rain and most of the birders dispersed. Mindful of avoiding rush-hour traffic on the dreaded south-western M25 I now headed home, feeling immensely relieved at having laid this long-avoided and difficult lifer to rest. This day had been a hugely satisfying experience at the opposite end of the birding scale to those boring and frustrating 2012 sojourns in Dorset. Apparently I had made a wise choice of location as there have been six previous occurrences of HLW along the 18 mile stretch of coastline from Brighton eastward to Beachy Head since and including the first accepted British record in 1966.

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For a very informative guide to migrant leaf Warblers in Great Britain see here. And for a detailed, scientific paper on separating Hume’s and Yellow-browed in the field see here.

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Two days later on Thursday  (17th) I made a third attempt at the Holkham NNR Shorelarks on the north Norfolk coast, since missing them twice previously this winter still rather rankled. Given my current run of good form it seemed now might be the time to belatedly nail those too. Since my abandoned visit on 28th December (see here) a 20+ Shorelark flock, and up to 50+ Snow Buntings that I observed then, have been recorded regularly on RBA. Like the Buntings, the main attraction of the Larks for me was the comparatively large numbers involved, since I had only come across single figure groups in the past.

When I arrived at Lady Anne’s Drive just after 9.00 am a bitterly cold gale was blowing along the coast, which I suppose I should have anticipated. But I was wearing just about enough layers and so strode out defiantly to the roped off area at approx TF895455. There several other birders were already watching the Shorelark flock, so the connect was immediate this time and my luck was holding. At first the birds were too far away to get pictures of but then they moved quite close in … which was when I found my camera battery was flat. Oh dear! Cue a sinking feeling.

Back at the car park, having watched the Shorelarks for a while, I retrieved my camera charger and the on-site cafeteria proprietor very kindly rescued the situation while I warmed up again with a coffee and local pasty. Meanwhile a Lapland Bunting was discovered out at the sharp end, presumably amongst the Snow Bunting flock. On my walking out for the second time, the conditions had if anything deteriorated further with light snow flurries in the mix. But the Shorelarks were still present so today’s result despite my earlier faux pas was definitely meant.

Shorelark (all pictures)

Snow Buntings (both pictures)

Again the flock was mobile around the roped-off area, then once more they moved closer. Given the circumstances any sort of records would suffice, and the images (above, top row) purport to be no more than that. Local birders arriving now were naturally far more concerned with locating the Lapland Bunting. I neither picked it out nor came across anyone else who had seen it since that original report, but I did speak to the finders. The today 30+ Snow Bunting flock (above, bottom row) was active throughout.

My carelessness with the camera battery had at least ensured I spent all of my four hours parking time on site, but by the end of it I was glad to head back home. I think I might have had my fill of Holkham for this winter season, but I am taking the “arduous journey” to north Norfolk in my stride now, and those aforementioned Greenish Warbler and Buff-bellied Pipit perhaps seem a little more reachable.

This mini-break was my third visit to Fuerteventura. I came here previously in February 2015 for five days (see trip reports), then in December 2017 just for a weekend to twitch a Dwarf Bittern, possibly the desert island’s most renowned avian resident. I was one of the earlier Brits and first Oxon birder to go for what was then the fifth Westpal record. But the urgency of that madcap adventure was not in the end necessary as this celebrity has remained faithful to it’s adopted home to the north-west of Rosario and Fvta airport ever since. Experiencing the bird again was an important aim for this new trip.

Dwarf Bittern (adult male) at Barranco de Rio Cabras © and courtesy of Lars Theng

So Thursday morning (10th) found me driving out through the rugged though languid grandeur of the Fvta landscape heading for Barranco de Rio Cabras, the Bittern site. This river gorge runs close by an access road to a waste recycling plant off the FV20 main road. An approximate GPS from which to start searching for the DB is N28.4758′ W13.9030′. There I met two birders from Sweden who were unsure exactly where to look, so I took them out to the spot where I was successful those 13 months ago (see here).

As we walked across the stony plain from the road out to the Barranco the air overhead contained around nine Egyptian Vulture. This is a reliable location to find that raptor since they are attracted by the waste recycling plant. As we reached the gorge a similar number of Spoonbill flew out from it and circled around, the first I have seen here. Then we crossed the Barranco to watch for the Bittern in an area between two dams that it frequents regularly.

Cliff-face Hoopoe

Cliff-top Ruddy Shelduck

Barrancos such as this containing water in places act as a magnet for birds. Some of the more noticeable ones moving up and down on this occasion were Little Egret, Black-winged Stilt, Ruddy Shelduck, Little-ringed Plover and Common Snipe. A Hoopoe was active on the opposite cliff face, while Raven seemed omni-present overhead. After a while one of my companions went to search further downstream while the other remained with me.

When the call came to say the Dwarf Bittern had been located around 500 metres away the ensuing dash to connect was seriously off-piste. I could not keep up with Lars who had 20 years on me, and as I had seen the bird before it didn’t seem worth breaking an ankle or otherwise going arse over tit for. In the event I took just the one tumble, suffering no more than a bruised finger. None of this now is as easy as it used to be when I started birding abroad eight years ago.

Upon reaching the spot where the others were sitting, in a green and watery area of the barranco floor, the DB had gone back into cover. They had watched it feeding very closely and Lars had good images on his big lens HD camera. A tense wait then ensued without the bird re-emerging before my companions, being satisfied with their experience decided to move on. But as soon as they left I beheld the Dwarf Bittern striding out of cover again a little upstream from where I was sitting.

“Hello old friend … what have you been doing since we last met?”

Now this famous and iconic lone wanderer gave itself up to my camera for the second time. It was a rather more tranquil setting than the place upstream where I had observed the bird previously. And unlike then I was now completely alone with it and so able to enjoy especially meaningful communion. I watched and took pictures as the DB foraged along the water’s edge, practising it’s repertoire of Heron poses as it went and moving gradually upstream.

Dwarf Bittern (all pictures)

Though the habitat here clearly caters for this adult male’s sustenance I pondered upon what else might keep it in this adopted home: far from the usual range, away from his own kind and without a mate. Maybe there were similarities between us in these moments at the back of beyond. Whether or not such vagrants eventually return home is something I have thought over many times. Or do they either just settle where they have strayed, or as is more often the case die fairly soon? Might this solo Dwarf Bittern just have a low libido or could it be escaping a troubled relationship history? Perhaps I should stop there.

From close to where I was now a track led up the gorge side to the plain above, so the walk back to my car was much easier than the outward one. It now being early afternoon plenty of time remained to re-visit the lower end of Barranco de Rio Cabras where most of Fvta’s regular small passerines may be encountered. This is accessed via a dirt track from Playa Blanca, just off the FV2 road immediately south of Puerto del Rosario.

Spectacled Warbler

Fuerteventura Chat (fem)

Retracing a route I first trod in 2015, the first small birds I came across were some Spectacled Warbler (pictured above, left). And in amongst them were at least two Fuerteventura Chat (above, right), an island endemic without seeing which no visit here would be complete. A little further along two Trumpeter Finch landed just ahead of me but I could not get pictures before they went on their way. What were probably Berthelot’s Pipit and Lesser Short-toed Lark were buzzing about the arid habitat, being much more frequently heard than seen. And inevitably there were Spanish Sparrows.

Once I reached the barranco’s lowest dam, the height of water behind made it impossible to walk on north-west to the Dwarf Bittern site. Things seemed far less birdy here than in 2015, and so instead I took some time to pay attention to the remote location’s insect life. Odonata comprised Blue Emperor, Red-veined Darter, Broad Scarlet and Sahara Bluetail; the last of those being Fvta’s only damselfly. And as in other locations this week there were a lot of dark brown-toned Pyrausta moths.

Broad Scarlet (male)

Broad Scarlet (female)

Sahara Bluetail

Sahara Bluetail

Butterflies were represented by the same five polyvoltine species (all-year flyers) that I encountered throughout this trip: Painted Lady, Red Admiral, Clouded Yellow, Small White and African Grass Blue; the last of those being a welcome lifer. Everywhere I went I was impressed by the significant size variation in Painted Lady. All were smaller than the migrants that regularly reach Great Britain, but I wondered if the smallest of all were an endemic form. Having read things up that is not so. There is a second Painted Lady species in the Canaries but I did not find any of them. So I must assume the size of adult butterflies depends on how much individual larvae find to eat in this arid region.

Painted Lady (all pictures)

The trip lifer, African Grass Blue (pictured below) is one of the tiniest Blue species that is widespread and often common across much of north Africa and the Middle East, but extends into parts of southern Europe as well. It is discreet and very low flying, particularly favouring coastal localities in which irrigation maintains vegetation; but is also frequent in hot, dry habitats such as here. I also noticed this butterfly in the forest strip in Costa Calma while staking out the Allen’s Gallinule there.

African Grass Blue (all pictures)

African Grass Blue

African Grass Blue

Greenish Blacktip © and courtesy of Lars Theng

On the walk back I crossed paths with a few Greenish Blacktip (pictured above), another common north African butterfly that I had seen lots of in 2015 though most then were very worn. Like Orange Tip at home this restless and fast flying species is difficult to get pictures of. Tired from my day long exertions I couldn’t summon the energy to chase them across the rocky ground this time and so publishing my own images of GBT will have to wait.

Houbara Bustards on Tindaya Plain © and courtesy of Lars Theng (all pictures)

On Friday morning (11th) I couldn’t resist going again for Houbara Bustard on Tindaya Plain in Fvta’s north-east. On both my previous trips I had seen those local specialities further to the north nearer El Cotillo, but this time I opted for where most of the images published online come from. Arriving at first light I eventually observed three Houbaras in flight, and then another more distantly, but there were no roadside encounters such as I sought. That was rather annoying, especially as my Swedish associates of the previous day had photographed displaying males at 50 metres here (pictured above).

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After two hours of frustration I decided to drive north along the dirt road to El Cotillo, but ended up circuiting the north side of Mount Tindaya back to the main road from EC to La Oliva instead. The route I intended now appears to be blocked by a private open cast mining site. Though some of the vistas here were well worth the detour the overriding sentiment was of disappointment over the lack of Houbaras, so I continued on to La Oliva to refresh my spirits. This village is rather like an oasis in the desert and unusually wild flower rich for this island, and so once again my attention turned to butterflies.

There must be trillions of Painted Lady in Fuerteventura and here it would not be an exaggeration to say the waste ground I now walked around shimmered with them. This all rather put into context the occasional spectacular irruptions that occur at home, such as one around 10 years ago. But the mind simply boggles at how many trillions of trillion there must be across the species’ entire range. The images I saved from La Oliva are all of Clouded Yellow, of which these (below) are the most pleasing.

Clouded Yellow (all pictures)

Unfortunately on this trip my laptop charger failed and so I lost contact with Canary Islands RBA. It wasn’t until Friday evening I got a message from Eduardo saying a Desert Wheatear had been rediscovered at the reservoir site of Las Molinos that I drove past on my way back to Costa Calma. So missing what could have been my second record of that bird was also a little disappointing. It remains to present a few other and random bird images (below) from the three days featured in these two posts..

Berthelot’s Pipit at La Oliva

Cattle Egret at Costa Calma

North African Raven on Tindaya plain

Egyptian Vulture

So returning to my original question, was this retro-tripette truly motivating? Where the star attractions of Allen’s Gallinule and Dwarf Bittern were concerned the answer is a most definite yes. But revisiting places for no particular reason did not grab my imagination quite so much. Possibly that is because there is only one habitat on Fuerteventura – rough, dry and very stony – in which it is always difficult to pick birds out. But despite slightly anxious doubts in the days leading up to departure, once I got off the plane all the tension slipped away and I was well and truly back into overseas wildlife travel mode. Next up will be Agadir II in February, also through lastminute.com. I might as well do all this while I can.