Swiftly Moving Along

The lazy days of high summer are upon us, when in the world of wild creatures something of a lull occurs. No more frantic breeding activity, food is relatively plentiful and everything can take a bit of a breather. But it doesn’t last. Before long there will be sure signs that summer has given way to early autumn. The first and most obvious change will be the departure of our swifts that seem to leave us so suddenly that it takes us by complete surprise. There have been some reasonable sized gatherings of this enigmatic bird locally; I counted about 30 over my garden wheeling together at dusk a few days ago. These flocks include a fair proportion of juvenile birds but sadly represent only a fraction of the large spiralling flocks that could once be observed here.

Devil Birds they called them; Screechers, Shriek Owl, Screamers. But to us inhabitants of the 21^st century they are just swifts, common swifts at that. I can’t help thinking the old colloquial names sum the bird up much better, although quite why they had an association with the devil is anyone’s guess. Perhaps it is something to do with the way they power through the air in large screaming groups towards dusk, or maybe it has something to do with the mysterious nature of their wanderings. Whatever, they are far from an avian manifestation of all things evil, they are the enigmatic, aerial masters of our sometimes tempestuous , turbulent skies; their arrival a sure sign that the short British summer has arrived, albeit sometimes in name only.

The Latin name of these scythe winged migrants is Apus apus. Apus means footless and it was long believed the birds were indeed missing those essential appendages. The reason for this stems simply from the fact that swifts, as I’m sure you know, never perch or land on the ground. The only time the birds indulge in anything approaching a meeting with terra firma is when they breed, and even then they will only build a simple nest under the eaves of houses or cavities in old buildings. It is thought young birds that are not ready to breed for up to four years from birth may spend all that time on the wing. Imagine how well adapted to flight you would have to be to spend 24 hours of every day zipping around in the sky, even sleeping whilst gliding around at high altitude.

As the summer wains they can be seen sweeping through the air, hurtling at breakneck speed on scimitar wings. Their world is alien to us, their purpose a mystery. We can only watch in awe their effortless twisting and turning through the jumble of rooftops; can only stand and stare at the screaming chases through structures alien to them. They arrive in early May and will soon be gone. As in spring one day the skies are clear, the next enlivened by their energy:  so in late summer one evening their screeching shapes will be charging across our skies; the following morning they have vanished. When they leave we are impoverished by their absence. It can take a little while to realise what is missing from a walk around our streets until you realise these transient spirits of summer have departed, moved south to join the swelling seasonal exodus from our shores.  

Of course swifts will not be the only absentees as the season moves along. Next, but less obvious, will be the surreptitious, slower paced southerly movements of other migrant birds; waders, warblers, swallows. To illustrate this point, a few days ago I thought I would try and photograph the local blackbirds that have been taking advantage of the berry laden shrubs in our garden. Sure enough before long a juvenile blackbird appeared to take its fill, followed shortly after by one of the parent birds that began stuffing even more ripe berries into the insatiable youngster. I was happily snapping away when a movement of a smaller bird caught my eye, there surreptitiously hopping through the tangle was a blackcap, perhaps a bird of the year. These warblers are unlikely to have bred locally, so this little gem was in all likelihood beginning its long migratory journey and chose my garden as a handy refuelling stop.

Yes, summer is still holding sway, but the signs are there that it is only temporary . Enjoy it while you can. 

All Things Are Relative

Fed up with the current state of events? Tired of hearing about the in-fighting of our politicians? Frustrated with the gibberish peddled by our media? Consider this.

It is said that travel broadens the mind. It’s true. There's nothing like wandering around the wonderful old town of Jerusalem whilst tripping over M16 bedecked soldiers at every street corner to bring home to you how tenuous day to day life can be for some; nothing like seeing a small child walking alone along a 5 miles stretch of empty road dwarfed by Andean mountains to make you appreciate the comfort our own cocooned children enjoy on their 4x4 enshrouded school runs; nothing like watching tens of thousands of honey buzzards drifting south over the Caucuses of Batumi, in waves stretching back as far as the eye can see, to make you realise in jaw dropping fashion how marvelous bird migration is.

Andean Highway

Honey Buzzards at Batumi, Georgia. We logged 88,000 that day.

Over the past couple of years we have found ourselves using British Airways quite a lot. Whilst sitting there with several tons of jet aircraft strapped to my backside I like to distract myself by reading the articles John Simpson writes for their magazine High Life. He is an excellent correspondent and never fails to inspire. On a recent flight I had the pleasure of reading his account of the experiences a fellow journalist had whilst working in Beijing during the 1970's when China was a rather different place than it is now (?). The article can be found here and essentially relates the story of how an initial frosty relationship between a western journalist and a state fearing maid eventually thawed revealing a heart rendering tale of persecution, repression, sad intimacy and indomitable human spirit.

Ruminating on this led me to recall an incident we, that is myself, Denise my wife, James my son and Erin his wife to be, experienced whilst travelling through Rwanda a couple of years back. We had just spent the most fantastic few days trekking mountain gorillas and golden monkeys in Volcanos National Park. During this time we had been accompanied by our smiling guide Ishmael who was now driving us back to Kigali. It was a long, slow trip at the end of which we were to visit the genocide museum. Ishmael was young, no older than my lad, and I asked him, in an innocent and speculative way, whether he had any memories of the atrocious events of that era. Although at first reluctant to give details, he hesitantly began to open up. What followed was one of those episodes you never forget; a tale so terrifyingly brutal that we could only listen in mute horror.

Ishmael was only a young boy when in April 1994 the genocide began; on the traumatic day in question he was with his mother and younger brother working at the top of a hill when they saw the soldiers come. His brother was with his grandmother further down the slope but fearing the worst his mother wouldn't let him go to warn them, electing instead to hope their elevated position would save them. It wasn't long before the machine guns rattled their death cries through the forest below; before long the soldiers arrived at the hill top to finish their slaughter. Ishmael’s mother had taught him that should he ever find himself so threatened he was to play dead and hope the killers would overlook him and move on. As the bullets rained into the women and children around them, both Ishmael, his brother and his mother fell to the ground with dead bodies, really dead bodies, falling on top and all around them. His younger brother had been shot in both hands, had passed out with his blood leaking across all three. Not satisfied with their work the uniformed thugs went about pumping a bullet into each body to ensure all would never again breathe air. As sure death approached, not daring to draw breath even shallowly, the soldiers suddenly stopped the slaughter to greet the commanding officer that had arrived to inspect the carnage. Ishmael had to listen as the soldiers presented the new arrival with a 'present': a row of babies that they had saved just for him. As this worthy individual went about the important task of emptying his revolver into the new borne, the rest of the troop began piling the bodies ready for burning. The pyre flamed close to and red hot embers sparked over Ishmael’s bare legs, but although the pain was excruciating he still did not move. A soldier, intent on stoking the flames, stood on his mother’s head with heavy boots, but still she did not flinch. They both awaited the inevitable, but by some miracle were not hoisted into the flames; they were instead left to lie, covered in blood and filth with legs and arms smoldering. The killing party moved on to reap harvest from another village. Long minutes passed before Ishmael dared open an eye one sliver.

Imagine if you can for a moment the torment, the numbness, horror and fear that would envelop you when you rise shaking and unbelieving from such an episode. Friends, family, neighbours strewn dead and mutilated all around. Blood, smoldering remains, shattered bodies that an hour ago were living, breathing human beings now scattered and charred with no regard. Hell on earth and nobody outside Rwanda knew or cared a damn. How do you rally the will to get to your feet, to support one another to move down the hill to try to find your son and brother? They never found him, at least not an identifiable carcass. They found shreds of recognisable clothing, but the essential being was no more. Survive. Survive and move on.

The next few days comprised nothing but a painful, dangerous slow moving journey towards salvation. They picked up other traumatised strays on the way, but had to leave behind one young girl whose injuries made her cry loudly. They couldn’t afford to be heard and sacrificed this one waif for the good of those that stood some chance of reaching the UN post undetected.

As quiet tears trickled down his face, Ishmael finished his story leaving us all gazing out of the windows at the passing lines of women and children walking to school and market, lost in our own thoughts. When we reached the museum, Denise and I couldn’t stomach completing the circuit and sought sanctuary in the fresh African air watching modern day Rwanda buzzing past and healing bitter wounds. We remembered seeing the images on TV; that was enough. To our surprise though, my son and his wife to be forced themselves to walk through every exhibit, graphic and grotesquely compelling, so that they fully appreciated the scale of an atrocity committed over a three month period whilst they too were in their infancy. They wanted to fully comprehend the depths of evil that lurk inside man when given a justified ‘cause’ to kill.

We had seen mountain gorillas the day before, serene, harmless and in harmony with themselves and their surroundings. Today we had seen what their close relatives supposedly more intelligent, civilized and wiser do to one another. Our minds were certainly broadened that day.

So, in these days of Brexit with turmoil on our pathetic financial markets when a read of the papers predicts nothing but gloom, doom and the end of civilization as we know it, pause for a minute and take a look around. There it’s not quite so bad really is it? I think we will survive and retain our houses, our cars, our smart phones and more importantly our lives and freedoms. Just over 20 years ago nearly a million Rwandans lost everything and some 2 million more became refugees. Having someone who lived through it tell his tale to you somehow makes you look at the world quite differently. And he was still smiling. What price that kind of education?

L to R - Me, Ishmael, James, Erin. Kigali, Rwanda 2014.

Swallows Make the Summer

The visual evidence of how the season is speeding by can now be seen very clearly at NWT Ranworth Broad. Here, a walk along the boardwalk will take you through lushly vegetated wetland where head high reed sways in the breeze, their ranks speckled with pastel pink valerian, purple spikes of marsh thistles, white umbels of milk parsley and yellow spires of loosestrife. In the wet swamp carr, woodbine, perfumed sweet, entwines with woody bittersweet and the Royal fern thrusts its spore laden fingers skyward. Rich summer profusion.

But it is perhaps the activity of the birds that indicates how we have moved from the frantic urgency of spring; the chasing, screeching, posturing and skirmishing, to the more focused task of fledging this year’s offspring.  And the most obvious species to be encountered as you look out over the broad from our floating visitor centre are the grebes, terns and the swallows.

One pair of grebes are busy looking after a pair of humbug-striped chicks quite close to the observation windows where they can be observed catching fish to satisfy the incessant hunger of their prodigy. Great-crested grebes are good parents that in the early stages of the chicks’ development will keep them very close, warding off any potential predator. Unlike the mallards that let their ducklings scatter and swim wildly hither and thither: easy prey for herons, gulls and marauding marsh harriers. The parent grebes are now finding quite large fish to offer to the eager young ones who will raise their heads skywards to gulp the fish down head first. A couple of weeks ago one over optimistic parent gave a very large fish to one of the small chicks that gamely tried but ultimately failed to force it down its gullet. Being able to watch these dagger billed aquatics in such intimate detail is a true privilege.

The swallows enliven the immediate vicinity of the Visitor Centre during the summer months with their breath-taking aerial ballet. They nest under the eaves where they are totally protected from the rigours of the northerly wind and sheeting rain. Three pairs have taken up residence this year and can be watched hawking insects over the broad which they cram into the mouths of their well grown brood. They will breed again once the current nestfuls have fledged and may well try for a third time during August. 

And then there are the terns; feisty, screeching, aerodynamic perfection.  After a late start these graceful wanderers are now nesting on the specially constructed rafts, the adults making regular trips to Malthouse Broad to catch small fish for their newly hatched young. It is worth spending a while watching these sharp eyed birds swooping through the air, plunging into the water to remove a fish with clinical precision. For me they embody the spirit of this place.

When these summer visitors leave, taking their life force with them, the mood of the place changes. There is a waning of the soul; a feeling of subtle loss. But for now there is nothing for us to do but enjoy these summer days whilst we have them, for all too soon the cool dawns of autumn will come knocking and the wealth of life currently on show will subside for another year.

That Kondor Moment

Concluding the account of our trip to Hungary…

Day 5 – 28 May

Gábor was working on construction of a water level feeding station in the pond this morning, so the pre-breakfast stroll concentrated on moths. A simple tap on any stand of vegetation was likely to disturb a few insects from their daytime hiding place allowing closer scrutiny. Among the many micros too small or mobile to photograph and/or identify we did see several pyralids, a white plume moth, magpie moth, heart and dart together with a rather splendid and boldly-marked speckled yellow. An encouraging start to what promised to be a most exciting day.

White Plume Moth

Speckled Yellow

A party of ringers had arrived at the lodge from the Czech Republic to spend the weekend investigating the contents of some 300 nest boxes they had placed on telegraph poles and other suitable sites throughout the park. The essence of this programme, which is undertaken on a purely voluntary basis, is to increase the breeding population of rollers and it has been a resounding success. Although rollers are the main occupants of the boxes, they do also attract a variety of other species. We asked whether we could tag along for a little while and were welcomed with gusto.

Amid vast fields of swaying grasses and wild flowers we spent the morning following the ringing group as they checked on various boxes. We were even allowed to climb a ladder to take a peek at a group of well grown little owls that glared at us with baleful yellow eyes as we gazed down at them with a sense of privilege.

Inspecting a Little Owl Nestbox

The Contents

Being out there in the unspoiled Puszta was an experience almost beyond the ken of a modern day UK based naturalist. The sheer profusion of plant and insect life was overwhelming. Sitting here back at home typing this account, it is not easy to convey the sense of abundance. Suffice to say anyone with an interest in botany or entomology could spend hours here discovering its inhabitants with a big smile on their faces. Over the course of the week we certainly did.

Crab Spider With Bee

Mother Shipton Moth

It was time to leave the ringers to their long, tiring work. Handshakes all round and we were off heading north to explore another aspect of the park. But hang on, what’s that bird floating lazily over the sward? Binoculars rose hurriedly to reveal a most handsome male Montagu’s harrier. And what’s that smaller, pale bird on the wires. Tawny pipit. Another raptor, no two, three! A pair of honey buzzards and a common buzzard. And that bird on the fencepost? A stunning male cuckoo with another further along. What with those birds as well as corn buntings, turtle doves and hoopoes arresting our attention, progress was sometimes blissfully slow.

The Czech Ringing Team

Montagu's Harrier - Beautiful

The Puszta

Corn Bunting

Red-backed Shrike

Our first target site for the afternoon was an area of wild flower strewn high ground, a man-made island in fact, created as a refuge when in historic times the whole flood plain of central Hungary was periodically under water. From here we had a commanding view for miles over a modern sea of grasses that rippled and flowed in the breeze to create an ever moving vista. While munching our sandwiches and gooey cakes we scanned the skies for raptors. First up a close flyover common buzzard. Next, among the sprinkling of more remote buzzards, a larger more robust bird appeared spiralling on wide oblong wings, long primaries fingered for effortless flight. The bird was distant, but through the scope its diagnostic projecting head shape and golden sheen revealed it to be an imperial eagle. How lucky was that? We watched the progress of this bird for some time but unfortunately it didn’t come close enough for a really good look. No matter, for upon retracing our steps back down to the minibus a saker falcon, complete with souslik clasped in its strong talons, sped past; no doubt heading back to its insatiable young somewhere close to.

Next stop was at a bee-eater colony nesting in a low sandy wall. Sitting quietly on the opposite bank gave us a marvellous opportunity to watch these incredibly agile birds at close quarters. As always at these kind of wildlife spectacles it takes a little while to settle down and fully appreciate what is going on, there is so much action that it is sometimes difficult to know where to look. At this time of year most of the bee-eater nests have eggs and the off duty birds were busy collecting food items to deliver to their incubating mates. Some were still engaging in courtship rituals, perched side by side with a food present, a dragonfly or on one occasion a red admiral butterfly, being offered by the male. Trying to photograph birds in flight is always a challenge, especially so when they are so close and so swift. But it is always a privilege and great fun. Not wishing to disturb the colony unduly we crept back to the minibus after 15 minutes and left these beautiful birds to their domestic duties.

Another Norfolk Hawker Bites the Dust!

Farther along the quiet roadway Gábor pulled the minibus to a halt to point out a majestic male great bustard he had somehow noticed posing on the edge of a field of corn. Through the scope the wide neck and great size of this bird could be fully appreciated. Another target bird we had been promised safely in the bag. We were doing rather well here, so well in fact that we decided a reward would be in order.

A few minutes later five hot, sweaty, binocular and camera-draped birders could be found contentedly eating a generous helping of refreshingly cold, calorie-laden ice cream in the nearby village. We attracted a few polite and inquisitive glances but not anything like the stir a local wedding party was creating. We soaked up this burst of local culture and colour which seemed to involve most of the village, parading the newlyweds up and down the main street in a horse-drawn carriage. With the sun blazing down, the wedding party properly photographed and our stomachs pleasantly full, we felt able to resume our explorations.

The Wedding Party

A paper chase of gulls following a plough included a single Mediterranean gull as we drove along more dusty tracks towards an area of large reed fringed fish ponds. Slow driving and frequent stops at likely spots allowed close views of great reed warbler and purple heron before we eventually reached a pond which had recently been drained to reveal a large expanse of mud. This pond contained literally hundreds of birds of many species, herons, geese, waders and terns. Special sightings here included ferruginous duck, good numbers of red-crested pochards, a few immature little gulls, black terns and a lovely summer plumaged grey plover. All too soon our time was up and we left the area to its reeling Savi’s warblers and clattering great reed warblers to drive back to Kondor Lodge, tired and happy, for yet another sumptuous home cooked meal and then bed for well-earned slumber.

Day 6 – 29 May

Our pre-breakfast stroll took us to the area across the road from Kondor Lodge where even at this early hour the sunshine was warm enough to tempt many butterflies to begin their day. Some of these hung motionless from grass stems, small droplets of dew clinging to their wings and antennae, waiting for their bodies to heat sufficiently for them to take wing. And all around the bee-eaters, red-backed shrikes and golden orioles sang and fed. The most interesting incident was the distinct booming of a bittern which came from the lowest, and presumably dampest, area of the old lake bed. Perhaps water is slowly returning to Lake Kondor after all.

Lesser-spotted Fritillary - I Think!

Oberthur's Grizzled Skipper - I Think!

The main portion of the day was spent exploring a lake very much filled with water. Lake Kolon has been subject to a large restoration project with extensive areas of dense reed cover cleared to create a richer diversity of wetland habitats. We were taken by a boat fitted with a quiet electric motor along a tranquil channel covered in white water lilies – a sure sign of good water quality – to the main lake area to see for ourselves how the lake has been rejuvenated.

Honeyguide Wildlife Charitable Trust is a proud supporter of the researchers here, working as part of the Kiskunság Bird Protection Association, who undertake an intensive ringing program for various species, particularly the moustached warbler whose migratory patterns have until recently been poorly documented. The ringers set up to a mile of mist nets among the reed beds during the season, and have already had several ringing recoveries which is beginning to build a picture of the migration routes and wintering areas of these vulnerable birds. It is hoped that data gathered in this way will help to conserve the habitats in key staging posts and the wintering grounds themselves.

We were hoping to catch sight of a moustached warbler today, but sadly that was not to be. The reed beds did hold several species whose squeaks and warblings constantly accompanied our progress, but the lake itself was noticeably devoid of birds. We saw not a single duck, goose, grebe, gull or tern. A rather unexpected and eerie situation. We questioned our guide about this and discussed the potential problems of eutrophication (as applies to much of the Norfolk Broads), pollution, predation and such like but all parties seem mystified as to why the seemingly perfect nesting, breeding and feeding spot has been abandoned. Apparently for the first two years after the restoration work the lake was teeming with all kinds of birds; now nothing. The contrast is stark. The main theory at present is that there are many large predatory fish in the lake which effectively harvest young water birds. That may be a partial explanation as regards the smaller breeding species but would not seem to explain the total absence of loafing non-breeding geese or feeding terns, for example. Let’s hope research can shed light on this problem and a remedy found because it is otherwise a fascinating area with great potential.

Once back on dry land we spent some time on our walk back to base in search of dragonflies and butterflies. In this we were quite successful and had close encounters with a lovely yellow-spotted whiteface and more familiar four-spotted chasers and Norfolk hawkers. Butterflies came in the form of various browns, skippers and fritillaries including several newly emerged and pristine cardinal fritillaries – stunning insects – that were busy supping from the mineral-rich soils. The common name of this species is derived from the blaze of red found on the underwing but they are fast and strong flyers making photography something of a challenge.

Cardinal

Onwards then to another vast area of mixed dry and wet Puszta, where from a high wooden tower we could watch a colony of red-footed falcons at very close quarters. The birds had of course seen us arrive and those closest to the platform flew around calling in protest at our invasion of their space. Not wishing to overly stress the birds, we didn’t linger too long here, but long enough to have another excellent encounter with a great bustard as well as watching those simply beautiful falcons swooping with easy grace over the meadows. I snapped away for all I was worth and obtained some of the best images I’ve ever managed of a bird of prey. If that isn’t worthy of a big smile I don’t know what is. Well, maybe a lesser grey shrike sitting atop a dead branch, or a red-backed shrike glowing in the afternoon sun, maybe the rollers that lit up the sky as they flushed from roadside wires or perhaps the common buzzard and white stork looking for easy prey in a recently harvested field? All these we encountered on our drive back to base to conclude another exceptional day of wildlife watching. It was sometimes almost too much.

Male Red-footed Falcon

Kestrel

Roller

Buzzard

White Stork

Day 7 – 30 May

The week had been full of incident and interest, and the heat at times intense. Over breakfast we discussed today’s plans with Gábor (always accommodating of our requests and very flexible), and decided we would actually quite like to spend a little time in and around the grounds of Kondor Lodge. It always seemed so peaceful here but we had not really had time to simply relax and fully absorb its ambience. Gábor was very happy with this idea and devised an itinerary that allowed a short drive in the morning and most of the afternoon relaxing at Kondor.

But first we went in search of local owls that inhabit the higher ground of what used to be Lake Kondor. Here there are stands of small trees and shrubs together with a dilapidated and abandoned fisherman’s cottage. Abandoned that is except for a pair of little owls that have found the thatched roof and eaves much to their liking. We saw one bird perched conspicuously on the roof as we approached, and also discovered the likely nest hole. No obvious sign of young birds though. We also looked in vain for a long-eared owl that last year nested close by, but had to content ourselves instead with watching a pair of yellow wagtails (blue-headed race flava) hawking insects over the waving fields of steppe grass. A quite acceptable second prize.

Our local drive took us once again over wide areas of Puszta to a local farm where we were able to sit in the shade, sip locally-produced, fragrant white wine, indulge in ample supplies of a local bread supplied by the farm owners and generally bask in a slice of yesteryear. I found the whole complex quite nostalgic, reminding me vividly of the kind of places my friends and I used to ramble around as children. Rustic barns where swallows dived in to feed their young in mud nests sited on the cross beams, shady corners where wagtails, flycatchers and black redstarts fixed us with a wary eye, wildflower patches where butterflies tripped among the blooms and over all a sweltering sky of blue.

In keeping with the plan, we spent the afternoon lazing around the grounds of the Lodge looking for dragonflies and frogs in the pond, listening to the golden orioles serenade us and dozing in the soporific summer warmth. A beer or two may have contributed to the inability to keep our eyes open.

Kondor Lodge

Day 8 – 31 May

Our flights back to the UK did not leave until the afternoon allowing us a leisurely breakfast and an unhurried drive back to Budapest. We even had time to visit the bee-eater nesting cliff, and this time we were able to use the minibus as a hide and therefore stay a little longer. I cannot get enough of bee-eaters and their colourful presence will remain an abiding memory of this holiday.

I would urge anybody with a love of wildlife and wild places to visit Hungary. The people are most friendly, the cuisine wholesome, healthy and satisfying, the sense of space and timelessness priceless. Thank you Honeyguide for a very enjoyable, informative and relaxing holiday. Thanks to Gábor and Andrea for their hospitality and guidance, and thanks to the birds, butterflies, plants and other colourful creatures for gorging our senses. It really was, literally, a most welcome breath of fresh air.

East and West

Continuing the account of our recent trip to Hungary……..

Day 3 – 26 May

Today’s pre-breakfast stroll revealed a family party of black redstarts that had recently nested on one of the Lodge’s roof supports together with a lovely spotted flycatcher in the process of doing the same. As I pulled back the cloth flap of the pond hide I disturbed a large grass snake that had been resting in the cool interior. That specimen slithered away before I could have a closer look, but several newly hatched individuals provided very close encounters as they swam in the shallows and sometimes investigated the dark opening to the hide. On more than one occasion I had to give them a gentle tap to discourage them actually entering; I was more concerned for their safety than mine. These bright, inquisitive creatures provided great entertainment as they silently explored every niche of the pond surround, while the nightingales, golden orioles and hoopoe enriched the scene with their song.

The main focus of the day was exploration of the oxbow lakes of the River Tisza that lay some way to the east. Our first activity here was to spend a pleasant hour or so slowly walking through well-preserved woodland looking for woodpeckers amid the towering oak, poplar and ash. It wasn’t long before we had satisfying views of both Syrian and middle spotted woodpeckers that nest commonly in natural holes in the impressive stands of mature trees. We also were lucky to be able to watch a pair of great spotted woodpeckers feeding young in a nest cavity close to the track. Wood warbler, short-toed treecreeper and of course the ever-present nightingales were welcome. The swarming mosquitoes were not.

Once out of the forest, a short walk across a damp meadow rich in wild flowers – meadow buttercups, ragged robin, cotton grass and yellow flag iris – led us to a raised platform from which we had a commanding view across a clear oxbow lake, richly carpeted with flowering lilies. The scene was one of intense activity with masses of whiskered terns gathering nesting material and hawking insects all around. These dainty marsh inhabitants danced around us allowing close appreciation of their silver-grey plumage offset by jet black underparts. Lovely creatures. Dabbling among the prolific water plants were small numbers of ferruginous ducks, two drake garganeys, fishing purple herons and the special bird we had come to see: the pygmy cormorant. These diminutive fishermen seem to be expanding their range in this region and certainly seemed at home feeding in the rich freshwaters of the lake.

Oxbow Lake

Whiskered Tern

Pygmy Cormorant

From our elevated vantage point we had the ability to scan the skies through 360 degrees. The ability to pick up moving objects over a considerable distance allowed us to add an immature white-tailed eagle soaring over the river valley, common and honey buzzard, kestrel, black stork and marsh harrier to our growing day list. On one occasion a lovely female marsh harrier came very close to the watchtower providing exceptional views. Such majestic birds.

We ate lunch in the shady tranquillity of a local churchyard. Here we noticed large numbers of bright red firebugs gathered on the weathered stone, as well as being able to see cardinal fritillaries flying strongly over the sun-dappled grass. In the quiet area behind the church we were able to at last get good views of an obliging male golden oriole and a pair of lesser spotted woodpeckers feeding newly fledged young.

Firebugs

Golden Oriole - At Last!

Newly Fledged Lesser-spotted Woodpecker

As the afternoon progressed we were treated to the sight of saker falcons nesting in a box specially placed on a tall electricity pylon. With the aid of a telescope we were able to see an adult and two young panting in the stifling heat. This was a privileged sighting made all the more poignant due to its surroundings. There we were watching such uncommon birds while all around us fields of corn rippled in the afternoon breeze. But these fields were not like those at home. Here they were full of wildflowers: cornflowers, corn cockles and swathes of bright scarlet poppies with fritillaries, skippers and painted ladies dancing above. Was it once like this back home? If so we have surely lost so much and are the poorer for it.

Day 4 – 27 May

We headed west today, firstly to investigate a number of small ponds where red-footed falcons hawked dragonflies and the ubiquitous nightingales blasted forth from every tangle of dense scrub. Our main quarry here was nesting penduline tits, but unfortunately a party of local fishermen had set up camp beneath the nesting tree. Undeterred, Gábor engaged the chaps in conversation, pointing out the nest and the need to allow the birds a bit of peace and quiet. The message was gracefully received and we all stood watching these masked architects put the finishing touches to their work of art, a masterpiece of woven aspen seed heads. Many smiles ensued with promises to look after the birds.

Penduline Tit's Nest

At this site we were lucky to encounter a lesser purple emperor butterfly and some banded demoiselle damselflies that lazily flapped around the reed fringed margins of the ponds. The reeds themselves held a good population of great reed warblers that despite much patience failed to show themselves. And all around courting golden orioles fluted high in the poplars and sometimes offering a glimpse as they chased one another through the sun-dappled canopy.

Lesser Purple Emperor

Across the road from these ponds lies an area of vast open Puszta comprising lush grasslands interspersed with shallow saline and freshwater lakes, some of significant size. We took a leisurely lunch in a small picnic zone beside Böddi-szék, a large waterbody housing a number of small reed fringed islands. Another watchtower gave an opportunity to scan over a wide area for birds and other wildlife. By this method we could log spoonbill, black-winged stilt, avocet, redshank and a beautiful pair of black-necked grebes in full summer garb. The grasslands around the picnic site held a large variety of wild flowers and insects; many butterflies, beetles and crickets. These provide a banquet for the squadrons of swallows and sand martins nesting in the area as well as an important food source for the next species we saw at close quarters, the simply stunning red-footed falcons.

Being a mainly open habitat, the scattered groups of stunted and dying trees provide much sought after nesting sites for a variety of predatory birds. To assist with breeding success, the park wardens have allowed nest boxes to be set up in suitably undisturbed spots which have proved to be very popular not only with the red-footed falcons but also kestrels and owls. At one such location, we parked the minibus and sat patiently watching the antics of these avian delights. We had excellent views of both male and female red-footed falcons at the nest and once again were surprised to see Norfolk hawker dragonflies as a regular prey item. A stunning pair of rollers engaged in a loud, grating bout of courtship nearby and a pair of kestrels fed their well grown young. Such a treat to be so close to these animals and watch them intimately go about their lives.

While we were sitting unobtrusively at this spot we delighted in hearing a bittern booming from a nearby reed bed and were also fortunate enough to catch sight of squacco heron, purple heron, great white egret and white stork. With whiskered terns gracefully twisting over the shallows in search of emergent insects we left the grasslands to visit an area of total contrast.

The National Park is full of surprises, none more so than the juxtaposition of seemingly incompatible habitats. How can an area of lush verdant wetland be bordered by an area of dry, shifting sand? But such is the case here with a few minutes’ drive bringing us to the latter zone baking in the afternoon heat. The Fulophaza sand dune system is one of great ecological and geographical importance containing a variety of specialist plants and insects that have adapted to this ever changing landscape. But sadly it is under threat from a number of alien invasives, especially the milkweed, an introduction from North America. There it is a revered plant, preserved due to its association with the monarch, or milkweed, butterfly; here it is an unchecked pest which dominates large areas of disturbed ground to the detriment of all other plant life. Large areas of the drier Kiskunság are now being colonized by this unwelcome intruder and little seems to be happening to prevent its spread. Highlights of our circular walk were large numbers of the southern festoon caterpillar, crested lark, a singing woodlark, yellowhammer and once again those cheeky golden orioles chasing one another through the poplar stands.

Milkweed Infestation

Such is the wealth of wildlife here though that no drive along the sparsely populated roads is without interest and just before we reached the lodge Gábor brought the minibus to a halt so we could admire a close up view of a charming souslik. These little rodents, a kind of ground squirrel, are common inhabitants of the more cropped areas where they can frequently be seen standing on their back legs, meerkat style, as they keep a watchful eye out for the ever present buzzards, kestrels, sakers and harriers. We had encountered several of them on previous drives, but none so close as this particular individual. With its large dark eyes constantly scanning the skies for those hungry birds we could watch the animal feed on the abundant grasses before it disappeared from view, diving into an unseen burrow and sanctuary. A large buzzard was patrolling the field.

Souslik

Once weary but happily back to base a further surprise awaited us in the form of a mating pair of poplar hawkmoths. Sometimes it was simply impossible to tear yourself away from the animals.