The Gull from Hull 21st December 2013

Friday afternoon on the 20th December and having fought a heroic Christmas shopping trolley war campaign up and down the aisles of Waitrose's supermarket in Witney I returned home with a large amount of cheese, amongst other items, and an Ivory Gull very much on my mind. 

Why? 

Well an immature Ivory Gull, a rare wanderer from the Arctic, had been entertaining birders for a few days at a place called Patrington Haven some 2.5 miles southeast of Hull in East Yorkshire. A quick volley of texts back and fore to Badger that evening and we were all set for a 5am start from Kidlington on Saturday with Andy and Terry completing a full complement in the Badger's car.

I did not get much sleep on Friday night. I went to bed early but it is the same every time. I get too excited about going rare birding and just cannot sleep due to the anticipation. My whole body tingles and my mind races with nervous energy. Then my daughter, who is in the USA studying at Boston University for a year, skyped us at around 10pm, so another two hours went past as we exchanged Christmas greetings, gossip and we watched her on the computer monitor, as she opened the Christmas presents we had sent her, before she goes to San Francisco for Christmas. It was kind of nice to share this personal moment and not a little poignant. I wish she was here with us to enjoy Christmas as a family. It is such a sentimental time of year and I miss her.

I rendezvoused with Badger, Andy and Terry at 5am on Saturday at Kidlington in a violent rainstorm and we were immediately off on the three hour journey to Patrington Haven. I suppose both the Arctic and Hull are desolate in their own individual ways but having slept cocooned in the warmth of Badger's car most of the way north, I awoke as we traversed a Hull looking at its depressing worst. We passed a huge chemical works with derelict houses on the other side of the road, the windows smashed by vandals and now rendering the homes somehow faceless and sinister. I shuddered and sank back into the corner of the car and closed my eyes. Christmas cheer seemed an awfully distant prospect  in Hull at this very moment.

Fairly soon though we were out of Hull and into open country that was flat, windy and waterlogged from earlier rain. The sky was now clear and a thin winter sun was permeating the landscape, reflecting off water flashes in the fields and puddles in the road. The forecast  for here predicted no rain but strong southwesterly winds.

We found Patrington Haven fairly easily and soon joined a long line of precariously parked cars on the muddy verge of a narrow, wet road called  Outstray Lane, surrounded by large flat wolds bordered by skeletal wind shredded hedges. The sun, still low on the horizon, became a dazzling, brilliant white light in our eyes as we walked up the lane towards the sea and past Outstray Farm. Passing through a gateway we were now on a muddy track running between a wide water filled dyke on our left and a raised grassy sea defence bank on our right. Beyond the sea defence was the huge Humber Estuary stretching right across to Lincolnshire. A mile walk along the track would bring us to the Pumping Station which was the area that the Ivory Gull favoured. We could see an already impressive line of birders on top of the sea defence as we walked onwards, obviously looking at the gull. 

Other birders passed us, coming back along the track and who had already seen the gull. Twenty minutes later at the end of the track, we joined the scattered crowd of  some eighty birders watching the Ivory Gull

Terry and Badger in action

We looked out onto a wide expanse of windswept saltmarsh and sea that formed the beginning of the Humber Estuary. 

Can you see the gull?

The Ivory Gull was immediately apparent as a white blob, a long way out but easily identifiable in the telescope, sat on rocks, preening. Periodically it would fly around and settle on the water but, always restless in the strong wind, would return to the rocks to preen. 

Our first views of the Ivory Gull

The saltmarsh was teeming with birdlife. Great swirls of Dunlin and Knot rose and fell like drifting smoke in the wide skies over the sea. Hundreds of Common Redshanks, forever restless, crowded by the water's edge together with impressive numbers of Common Shelduck and Curlew. Mallard, Wigeon and Teal bobbed in and out of view in the wave troughs of a restless, wind troubled sea. The wind blew relentlessly off the sea directly into our faces. It was wild, raw and very, very cold.

The Ivory Gull had developed a routine of remaining at a distance out on the estuary but at two to three hourly intervals would fly inland to feed on a muddy shoulder of the track right by the dyke and adjacent to the Pumping Station. We had just missed it feeding here earlier, at very close range, so now had to anticipate a long unpredictable wait for it to become hungry again and return for another feeding session. To entice the gull the muddy bank had been strewn, by birders, with various whole fish or fillets of fish such as Cod or Mackerel. 

Birders putting out fish for the Ivory Gull. The bank on which they are
standing is where the gull came to feed

After an hour or so I grew tired of watching the distant gull in the strong, chilling wind and went and stood in the lee of the Pumping Station which also, conveniently, gave me a grandstand view of the bank where the gull came to feed. The bank was some ten metres from my slightly elevated position and other birders and photographers soon had the same idea as me. Badger, Terry and Andy also joined me as the wind chill took effect and slowly the numbers of birders seeking shelter from the wind built up around us but the gull steadfastly refused to leave its distant, windswept perch on the rocks.

Sign on wall of pumping house where we sought shelter

I regularly scanned the flat fields and marshes beyond the Pumping Station. Three Peregrines flew over me, high and fast, interacting with each other in a now grey and cloudy sky. Later a Merlin perched precariously on the only branch sticking up from a vast swathe of waterlogged, winter dead reeds. Buffeted by the wind it faced head on into the relentless airflow but eventually gave up the unequal struggle and flew low and away. A huge flock, comprising of thousands of Golden Plover flew high above me, their melancholy windswept calls descending from the sky and their myriad forms making stellar patterns against the pale grey clouds. Disturbed or taking alarm at some unknown peril, Lapwings rose from the seashore in a cloudburst of alternate black and white joining the intricate manouevres of many thousands of Dunlin. 

The time passed slowly. A continuous stream of birders came and went. The birders assembled around the Pumping Station and who, like us, had opted to wait it out for the gull to come and feed blathered on about birding, lists of species seen, recent holidays and all the usual drivel of the bored and over anxious birder. For some it seems impossible to remain quiet. Talking inconsequentially obviously relieves the tension, for others like me it becomes immensely tiresome as, like a captive audience, I must listen to it whilst awaiting the gull's  possible arrival or lose my favourable position if I move away. It's an unavoidable annoyance so I put up with it.  

One hour passed, then another. It was now eleven o' clock. A local birder told me that yesterday this was when the gull flew in to feed. Not today however. Eleven thirty came and went. 

Andy, obviously bored and cold asked us 

'How much longer are we going to give it? 

I suggested an hour and we settled for this. 

Twelve o' clock. A stirring amongst the birders looking out to sea alerted us. The Ivory Gull was on the move. It was coming inland. A concerted rush of birders joined us forming an orderly semi circle around the muddy, fish strewn bank nearby. No one misbehaved. The gull appeared high over the grassy sea defence bank and did a couple of passes before us over the dyke and Pumping Station. 

Camera shutters started clicking. I held my fire. Were we too close? Would it get spooked by all the birders present? Too late now to do anything. No one was going to move. The gull passed to and fro in front of us for what seemed an age but was not really long at all and then, flying into the wind came towards us, over the dyke, flying lower and lower still, and finally settled on the muddy bank. Camera shutters were now going nine to the dozen. Volleys of clicks recording the moment for posterity and for individual savouring back in the warmth of home.

The gull, heedless of its star status, stood and regarded us. Satisfied we were not a threat it  then proceeded to examine and peck at what I at first assumed was some orange paper or rags but on closer inspection proved to be smoked salmon! Some twitchers obviously have more money than sense. It dropped the salmon after a quick nibble and then went on to examine each and every one of the random fish, in various states of decomposition, strewn around and about on the mud. 

It appeared dissatisfied and returned to the smoked salmon and promptly proceeded to swallow the lot, in whole pieces, the salmon disappearing down its maw in a series of convulsive gulps. Pretty it was not. Effective it was. All the salmon pieces went down rapidly and its crop bulged alarmingly. 

It stood four square on sturdy black legs and attempted lift off. Rising unsteadily, front heavy and barely airborne, buoyed by the wind it was lifted higher and flew past us, back out onto the distant saltmarsh, presumably to contemplate life and spend some quality time digesting its luxury meal.

The gull was present on the muddy bank for between ten and fifteen minutes appearing to be untroubled by the close proximity of around eighty admirers. It was stockier, more thickset than I had imagined, about the size of a Common Gull with sturdy, short black legs and broad based wings. The entire plumage was snow white except the tips of the flight feathers, coverts and tail  which were individually spotted with black creating a delicate necklacing across the wing  and tip of the tail. An area of grey brown feathers around the base of the bill ruined any impression of a pristine snow white gull and gave the erroneous suggestion that it had been down and dirty in amongst rubbish somewhere and got it's head stained.

The relief amongst the throng once the gull flew off was palpable. Birders, us included, exchanged their experiences with broad smiles whilst others examined the images they had recorded on their cameras. Everyone seemed very pleased and most, like us satisfied, headed back to their cars delighted that an anxious and long cold wait had been rewarded with such close and spectacular views of this very rare visitor from the far north

Birders departing after the Ivory Gull experience

The shortest day in the annual calendar was now waning but there was just time to go back through Hull, down the Motorway a little distance to the North Cave Wetlands Reserve where a Green Winged Teal had been reported earlier that morning. No news had been heard of it since 8.30am but on finding the Turrett Hide we opened the door to find a scrum of birders all looking at the teal. We joined them and soon Andy and Terry had yet another lifer each as we watched a beautiful drake sitting on an island and then swimming about surrounded by Common Teal. The subtle differences were there as plain as can be. The green flash on the head without the delicate pencil thin buff line around it, the white vertical stripe dividing the breast sides from the flanks. and the lack of any white horizontal stripe on the side of the body

Drake Green winged Teal c Andy Last

We watched it for an hour or so and then it was back to the car to make the long haul home. The drive was no hardship after such a day and with enormous thanks to Badger for kindly doing all the driving. I even managed to stay awake and get home in time to watch the final of Strictly Come Dancing.

Tess Daley was showing really well too! Happy Christmas everyone!

Triumphant
From the left - Yours truly, Badger, Terry & Andy

Who's a pretty boy then? 14th December 2013

This story begins on the night of Friday 13th December at the always excellent and much anticipated Oxonbirders Christmas Curry Night along the Cowley Road in Oxford. A proposed trip to see a Baikal Teal near Liverpool on Saturday had to be aborted as the duck had flown away. I always had a hankering to see Parrot Crossbills, only ever having seen one before, in Sussex, and this year there has been an exceptional invasion of this species into Britain. My sights were set on a flock of fourteen that were being seen daily in Budby South Forest which is in Nottinghamshire and part of the wider Sherwood Forest. Badger who was going to come with me to Liverpool declined the opportunity but with such a large group of excitable birders around one table I soon recruited a couple of good pals in Andy and Terry to accompany me.

After a sleepless night due to my foolishly drinking too much Diet Pepsi at the curry night (I was driving) with all it's caffeine and chemical enhancements, I blearily made a 6am rendezvous with Andy and Terry on a damp, dark and somewhat chilly morning outside my house in Kingham.

We set off north across the Cotswolds and were soon on the Motorway up north. The journey was thankfully uneventful apart from seeing a Muntjac, a Badger and a Fox in the space of a few miles early on in the drive, which was surprisingly quick, with us arriving some two hours later, just after dawn, in Budby, a tiny village in rural north Nottinghamshire. A few minutes of uncertainty ensued as we tried to find the track from the village to  the woods which would, according to RBA (Rare Bird Alert), lead to the crossbills.

In the end it was easy as there was only one small, narrow road into the village which conveniently came to a dead end by a farmyard and some cottages from where the track ran onwards to the woods. A local birder was already parked by the cottages and he confirmed we were in the right place and gave us instructions as to where to go. We parked the car and as they say 'headed for the woods'. A mile or so later and we found ourselves traversing a large area of heathland with scattered trees, both deciduous and conifer. The local birder had confided that on previous occasions he had found the best policy was to wait for the crossbills to fly in to drink at some puddles on a track, which they seemed to do every two to two and a half hours. He hinted that they usually turned up around nine thirty. It was now approaching nine am.

We could see a number of other birders, who had already arrived, in the distance off to our left, presumably waiting around the area of puddles but as we walked along the main path in their direction another birder approached and told us that he had just been watching the Parrot Crossbills from a track off to our right. Quandary. Which way do we go now? We opted for the right as that was where the birds currently were. Andy was some few hundred yards ahead of us and Terry and myself had not got far down the track before Andy waved to us. 'I think he can see them Terry.' I said. Then crossbill calls came from the sky and a group of fourteen crossbills flew over us and onwards in the direction of the puddles.This had to be the Parrot Crossbills. We did a swift about turn and headed rapidly in the direction the crossbills had flown.

With such a good number of birders hanging around in the general area the crossbills were soon picked up as they flew and were seen to alight in an isolated conifer. It was about a quarter mile walk for us as I saw the other birders making their way towards the conifer tree.

I followed in their direction - fast. Please do not fly away. Please stay put. Just for a few minutes. Previous reports had suggested the crossbills were quite mobile and that any views obtained were only relatively brief so you can understand my anxiety. The birds to my relief remained in the top of the conifer and we cautiously approached them.

They were feeding and apparently were untroubled by the presence of around fifty birders slowly surrounding the tree. There was plenty of room and gently we all moved closer to the tree as the birds appeared relaxed about our presence.

Although fourteen birds had settled in the tree only five or six were visible at any one time.Their bills in silhouette were massive compared to those of normal crossbills and seen side on they were, well, forgive me, just like a parrot's bill. The upper mandible deeply curved. The whole bill very broad laterally with the lower mandible in particular very deep and bulky. A bill this size needs a fair sized head to carry it and this was the other noticeable feature about these birds, the big, heavy, thickset head and neck. They were real bruisers, charismatic heavyweights of their genus

I took some images and then my camera battery ran out. The spare was in the car! So tired, I had forgotten it. No matter, Terry and Andy would get some good pictures. In a way I was glad as now I ceased to worry about getting pictures and just concentrated on watching these beauties. The males were particularly attractive, red but with the plumage colour varying in intensity. One was scarlet, another presumably younger was almost orange whilst yet another showed a faint white wing bar on it's dark brown wings.

Male Parrot Crossbill c Andy Last

Male Parrot Crossbill c Terry Sherlock

By now we had got very close to the tree and one female was sat in the open attacking a pine cone with some vigour. I saw how she had severed the cone from the branch and then holding it with her feet on the branch proceeded to systematically remove the scaly bracts one by one from the core. We watched her for the fifteen to twenty minutes she took to demolish the cone. I noted how her crossed mandibles, the top one in particular slightly longer, was used to such good effect to prise the bracts away and then strip the outside of the bract to get at the seed, using her pink tongue. The spent bracts were then just allowed to fall to the ground which betrayed the birds presence when they were invisible in the foliage

Female Parrot Crossbill c Andy Last

It was fascinating to watch. Other Parrot Crossbills moved around the tree holding cones almost like a trophy in their bill which they too had severed from a branch. 

Whether we were lucky in our encounter I cannot tell but from speaking to the locals, for us to be able to see them like this was unprecedented. We calculated we had watched them constantly for over an hour getting some of the closest and most prolonged views I have had of any type of crossbill, ever. None of us thought this could happen. A couple of minutes watching them at best and we would have been happy. But this? Fabulous.

During our observation they were totally silent and often the entire flock was invisible in the tree. If you did not know they were there you possibly could have walked right past them with only the falling discarded pine cones giving the slightest hint of their presence.

Then suddenly, calling excitedly, they erupted from the tree as if on a given signal but did not go far, flying to a bare tree and perching at the top and then emboldened, flying down to the rutted, flooded path to drink. Inevitably someone got too close and they flew back up into the tree. Now we could see all fourteen. Six males and eight females.Some had absolutely massive bills but others had smaller bills although still more substantial than their commoner cousins. We watched them fiddling about in the tree, nibbling at buds and then they were up and off, calling and flying away and then back towards us and then away again and further into the forest out of sight and reach 

We were unanimous.This was the signal to go and we made our way back to the car almost bubbling in excitement at our experience with the Parrot Crossbills.

Incidentally the Parrot Crossbills were lifers for both Terry and Andy

Video c Andy Last

Terry and Andy - now with one more species each on their life lists

It was still only ten o'clock in the morning. We had not anticipated quite such a quick encounter with the crossbills and now, as Terry said, we had the rest of the day before us and anything else was a bonus. It had been vaguely planned to head for nearer home to try and see a Cattle Egret in nearby Buckinghamshire but this plan was promptly discarded in favour of something much more exotic. A first year male Desert Wheatear that had taken up residence on Severn Beach near Bristol.

A long drive admittedly but a great bird to see if we could pull it off and another lifer for both Terry and Andy. So we set off southwest into the sun for a three hour drive. Uneventful apart from some unknown hold up on the M5 which we avoided by taking a conveniently approaching turn off onto the A38 that then ran parallel to the Motorway and would according to the Satnav only add another five minutes to our journey.

We arrived at the somewhat unprepossessing Severn Beach, which in reality is a vast area of unattractive mud and shingle, at around 3pm. We walked west along the deserted promenade into a stiff southwest wind promising rain. At the end of the promenade ten or so birders were sat or stood looking downwards. I could, at first, see nothing of the Desert Wheatear and asked a lady next to me where it was. She pointed downwards and there was the wheatear, ridiculously close, sheltering from the strong wind in the lee of a small grassy bank below the promenade and with it's straw and black coloured plumage rendering it very well camouflaged on the dead grass, stems and autumn leaves on which it was perched.

It was unbelievably confiding and after a while came to life and started feeding on meal worms brought to it by birders concerned for it's welfare. We were sat on the low sea wall and the wheatear approached closer and closer. Eventually it was about six inches from my foot. Andy took a picture of it almost between his feet and two young birders also got very close up and personal

It was totally fearless and just hopped around delighting one and all. There were long periods when it just sat, sheltering in the lee of vegetation with feathers fluffed up against the strong wind. Some concern was felt amongst us about it's general health and indeed at times it did not look well but then on other occasions it looked fine and it was feeding regularly on the mealworms. Maybe it was just stuffed full of food? I guess the next few days will reveal whether it will survive. A female spent the whole of last winter on a beach in Aberdeenshire so there is no reason why this bird cannot survive here with some help from friendly birders who could continue to supplement it's food supply.

We all took numerous pictures and in the end satisfied and with the light fading we put the cameras away and just sat on the wall, with about a dozen other birders and looked at this rarity never more than a few feet from us. Lee Evans arrived and prostrated himself to take some photos or maybe in homage. At one stage he and the wheatear were virtually nose to beak. It was quite amusing.

To his credit he went off to get another supply of mealworms for the wheatear and we chose that moment to leave also.

Home for tea and mince pies by 5pm.

Maroc around the Clock Part 4 21st -23rd November 2013

Thoroughly rested after a night in the superb Hotel La Pergola, a little French hotel in the centre of Agadir, we left town at 8am, following the coast road with the sea on our left, heading northwards towards Essaouira, a favourite seaside town for tourists. My main desire, now we were on the coast was to see Audouin's Gulls and also to catch up with a different race of Great Grey Shrike L. e. algeriensis which is only found on the northwest coast and is darker with less white in the wings than the Great Grey Shrikes L. e. elegans we had been seeing inland in Morocco up to now. 

We left Agadir in what I suppose was the morning rush hour - that is if anyone rushes in Morocco. Even on the city's three lane highways the inner lane usually had donkeys, bicycles and a variety of transportation that would not be allowed to see the light of day on any major road in Britain. A man riding a camel, for no apparent reason wandered over an active building site. No one batted an eyelid. Rather than safety barriers the central reservation was a double line of purple bougainvilleas. A nice touch. Slowly we left the urban sprawl behind and found ourselves on a pleasant coast road with the blue sea shimmering in the morning sunlight. Small sleepy seaside villages, a jumble of ancient and modern buildings, came and went as we moved northwards with always that brilliant radiating sealight you get on a sunny coast.

We stopped to admire a Peregrine sat on a pylon and then chased an example of the algeriensis race of Great Grey Shrike around some waste ground at the back of a beach. It was hard work but eventually I got my photo. 

Great Grey Shrike L e. algeriensis

Otman went off road for this and rather than return to the road we just carried on along a track running parallel with the road as if it was the most natural thing to do, finding up to eight Moussier's Redstarts, Sardinian Warblers, a female Northern Wheatear and several European Stonechats in the scrub. 

Male Sardinian Warbler

We finally rejoined the main road and now my main aim was to get some photos of Audouin's Gull. Otman apparently knew just the place and some kilometres later we turned off the road onto a beach road which was, judging by the surfer dudes present in the sandy car park the main hang out for them in this part of Morocco. The beach itself was huge and apart from the surfer's corner it was deserted. The surfers themselves only amounted to around thirty souls and Otman, ignoring them, drove right onto the beach and towards the other end away from the surfers. There was a huge flock of gulls in front of us, mainly Lesser Black backed Gulls and Audouin's Gulls. I counted in excess of 430 of the latter, virtually all were adults with just a handful of first, second and third winter birds. The occasional Yellow legged Gull showed up in the throng and one solitary immature Mediterranean Gull was a surprise. I also found, I think, an example of a Baltic Gull, arguably a species in it's own right but currently lumped as a race of Lesser Black backed Gull L. f. fuscus.

A number of the Audouin's Gulls had large white plastic rings with numbers or letters on - part of a Spanish ringing scheme according to Brahim.

Adult winter Audouin's Gull

First winter Audouin's Gull

We spent some time on the beach. It was a joy to photograph my favourite gull with the sound of the surf and cries of the gulls  in my ears. I watched the waves coming towards the shore, the crests breaking white almost as if they were smiling as they greeted the golden sand. This being Morocco we were eventually joined by a couple of locals curious as to what we were up to and after us all shaking hands in the customary fashion, Brahim had a long chat with them while I wandered around taking pictures of the gulls.

After the dust of the desert it was a refreshing change to be alone on a huge expanse of beach with just my thoughts and the clear sea air. In fact it was so nice we decided to have our lunch here and Otman duly headed off to the nearest village to get bread, olives, cheese, tomatoes and piles of fruit. I could have sat there all day but we had to get on if we were to make Essaouira by late afternoon.

Arriving in Essaouira, I found a pleasant seaside town not in anyway despoiled by the likes of the speculative building and hotel horror of the Spanish Costas or the usual seaside tat one finds all too often in coastal towns, but with wide palm fringed boulevards, white buildings and no individual building more than four stories high,  the whole town imparted a pleasant ambience. I doubt it will last as already there were hoardings going up offering the opportunity to purchase exclusive apartments yet to be built and membership of high class golf resorts. But you never know. 

We came to rest by another river mouth opening into the sea and walked along the sandy bank by the river and into the hinterland of dunes. Nothing exceptional here, just a single Common Greenshank and Grey Plover feeding by the river's edge and a small group of Little Ringed Plover doing likewise. A Kingfisher shot downriver towards the sea and Sardinian Warblers played hide and seek in the bushes on the dunes. An adult Mediterranean Gull stood with some Black headed Gulls and a Sandwich Tern flew upriver to join some Lesser Black backed and Yellow legged Gulls vigorously bathing  in the river.

As we had driven into Essaouira, over the bridge spanning the river, I had noticed a small area of what looked like settling pools behind the river and suggested to Brahim we investigate them. We were both pleasantly surprised to discover just how many birds were on them. The big surprise was the number of ChiffChaffs catching flies around and indeed over the water.There must have been at least a hundred around the pools, flying out to pick flies from the water's surface or just hopping around the banks. There were also many Black winged Stilts together with a nice selection of commoner waders such as Common Greenshank, Common Redshank, Ruff and Common Snipe. An adult Spanish Yellow Wagtail M f iberiae fluttered along in front of us loathe to leave the abundant supply of flies and four Song Thrush flew wildly away from some dusty bushes. Could they be migrants? Just as we were leaving, two each of European Swallow and Brown throated Martin came to feast on the flies.

'Spanish' Yellow Wagtail M f iberiae

Common or Iberian ChiffChaff - now I know where they all go in winter!

Black winged Stilt

We headed for my hotel for the night. Just off the main promenade and I even had a view of the beach from my bedroom. Once I was ensconced in my room Brahim announced he was going to go and buy some fresh fish and get a local open air restaurant to cook it for our evening meal. Fine by me, it sounded an excellent and appetising idea. He left me in my room and looking out of my window I came close up to a pair of Yellow legged Gulls on the balcony roof. I took a photo of one of them from my bed it was that close and then sat in the shower to eat a pomegranate. They can get very messy!

Adult Yellow legged Gull - as seen from my bed

Brahim and Otman duly collected me later in the evening and we went to our seafood restaurant located on a sort of Moroccan version of Fishermans Wharf  i.e pretty downmarket but with bags of character and I had I must say the most sensational meal. We were invited to choose our fish from a dazzling array of fish and crustaceans displayed on a huge slab. They had been caught that day and we sat alfresco, in the dark with a tilly lamp to light our table looking at the boat that had caught them whilst the fish we chose were cooked over a charcoal fire. It was more than excellent. It was truly memorable.

The end of my Moroccan odyssey was now in sight. Tomorrow we would make the long haul to Marrakech but thankfully would not stop there but spend a night in a hotel in the Ourika Valley, a well known tourist venue high up in the Atlas Mountains, before going on to Oukaimeden, a ski resort even higher up in the Atlas Mountains where we would try and find the second of my most desired Moroccan species, Crimson winged Finch.  Brahim had already dampened my spirits and expectations by repeatedly telling me that the snow had not come to the mountains so I had little chance of seeing them as they would still be on the mountain tops. They only descended to Oukaimeden when the snows came. I was philosophical. I had dipped them in March at Oukaimeden when there was snow on the ground and it would be great to see them this time but hey ho I have had a pretty good time of it despite this final likely disappointment. It certainly was not going to ruin my holiday.

I was collected from my hotel at 7am and we made our way out of Essaouira, a town I definitely would like to come back to and spend some time in. We had not had breakfast so Otman said we would stop in an hour or so which we duly did at some nameless little town. Otman throughout our trip was very particular about where we had breakfast and he would reconnoitre all the street cafes before selecting the one he deemed appropriate. Thus it was we did our usual dry run down and up the main street before alighting at a cafe cum butcher's shop complete with sides of meat hanging stiff and bloody in the cold air. The cafe floor even had sawdust on it and the plastic tablecloths were still wet with condensation from the chill air but the mint tea warmed me, tasted as good as ever and the pancakes and honey were a real treat.

We left the chilly cafe and went on our way, passing through various towns and turning to follow the signs to Marrakech. One final stop was made to buy two huge baskets of grapes which Otman was going to give to one of his ex army buddies in Marrakech.

Loaded up with grapes we made our way to the chaotic Marrakech. A nightmare of traffic, pedestrians, motor scooters, road diversions and demented traffic policemen frantically blowing ineffectual whistles whilst trying to maintain order. We crossed the city, gave the grapes to Otman's colleague and headed for the hills, literally. The traffic chaos died away and we found ourselves on quieter roads as we headed south for the Atlas Mountains. Because we had made such good time we now had an opportunity to go to Oukaimeden today as well as tomorrow. This would give me two opportunities to look for the Crimson winged Finch. Slowly the road rose upwards until we were spiralling dizzily around hairpin bends, passing through tiny villages with hordes of impossibly cute children walking home from school by the roadside. 

We made a stop at a layby high up in the mountains overlooking a huge drop down between the mountains into a valley where, below us, was a small village dominated by a Mosque. This being Friday, the holy day, the mullah was giving his address and broadcasting it over the tannoy. It rang out between the high mountains and down the valley in the still air and was incredibly moving. I am not in anyway religious but I felt moved to silence and respect for the mullah and his address although I did not understand a word of it. It was just so powerful and evocative in such wonderful surroundings.

The Mosque down in the valley

A coach load of French tourists drew up and the spell was broken. Heedless of what was below them they gabbled away, taking photos of each other while the mullah's address rang out. It was disrespectful, I was affronted and told Otman to take us away from here and I think Otman, who was quite a religious man, praying five times a day wherever we were, felt the same.

We arrived in Oukaimeden where the road ends and the mountains take over. Sadly the mountain walls by the road near to the summit at  Oukaimeden are despoiled by graffiti but somehow the sheer grandeur of the geography is not diminished by this. Stopping by the dam wall we got out. It was bitterly cold. We were 2300m up in the thin alpine air, it was looking like rain and we had passed through cloud! Not good.

I looked down from the road to where a small stream flowed downhill from the dam wall. A White Wagtail and some Meadow Pipits were feeding quietly beside it. A Blackbird or so I thought was also feeding in the wet grass by the water. It looked up and showed a large white crescent on it's breast. It was a Ring Ouzel. Then another and another appeared. Five at least. We walked closer but in true Ring Ouzel fashion they fled and now there were at least fifteen, previously hidden, flying away from under the banks of the stream and up the mountain slope. Where had they come from? Can these birds be migrants crossing the high Atlas to the warmer climes of southern Morocco and have had to put down because of the cloud and rain? I will think of this moment when I next see them at Linkey Down in Oxfordshire. We drove further into Oukaimeden towards the ski lifts

A huge flock of small birds flew up from the flat grassy expanses around the currently out of use ski lifts. They were Common Linnets. About one hundred and fifty. We looked at the flock from the 4x4 to see if anything else was with them. It was very very cold with a gentle but bitter wind blowing. I saw a male Common Chaffinch and then there were about fifty others together with some Rock Sparrows and Horned Larks, hopping around near to the linnets but there was no sign of any Crimson winged Finches. Black Redstarts seemed to pop up everywhere and a small flock of Red billed and Alpine Choughs were feeding on the damp grasslands near the dam.

Horned Lark

Female Black Redstart

Red billed Chough

We got out of the 4x4 and walked a little further up the road beyond the ski lifts towards where an alpine stream, strewn with litter in true Moroccan fashion, flowed below a rocky slope. A Grey Wagtail was bobbing along between the discarded beer cans and some more Common Chaffinches and Rock Sparrows flew up from beside the stream. A small group of  finches separated from the flock and I thought I saw pink. Chaffinches however have pink breasts so I was circumspect but I re-found seven finches at the same time as Brahim, sat on a rocky outcrop above the stream. They were Crimson winged Finches. Yes they really were, we had truly done it. We had found them despite Brahim's previous doubts. What a great result. I was ecstatic. 

There are seven Crimson winged Finches in this picture

Incredibly well camouflaged on the rocks they sat motionless for a while and then flew across the road to a rocky scree slope. We gave chase but it was a bit futile as they made sure they kept a good distance from us, were difficult to find amongst the rocks and to cap it all it was now beginning to rain. I tried some camera shots more in hope than anything else and even managed a minor miracle in getting a few half decent images. 

Crimson winged Finch- at last!

The finches went progressively higher up the hillside. We gave up the chase and despite searching lower down we only saw them once more, briefly, before they disappeared for good. I found six Serins later, feeding with the Common Chaffinches and then we called it a day and drove back to my final hotel in Ourika and my final night in Morocco.

The hotel was large but I was their only guest as this was well and truly out of season. It was very cold and I had the heater in my room going full blast. I had a really nice Vegetarian Tagine in splendid isolation in the restaurant and discovered to my delight the hotel actually sold beer. I had two small bottles of Heineken to celebrate my success with the Crimson winged Finches and retired to bed with three blankets and heavy duty socks on my feet to ward off the cold. 

My Hotel at Ourika

View of the Ourika Valley from my Hotel

The hotel restaurant where I was the only customer

Next day there are no prizes for guessing as to where we went for our final morning of birding. I wanted some more Crimson winged Finch action. On the way up we came across two unexpected Common Ravens perched on some wires but they soon flew off across the valley. A Blackcap at an elevation of over 2000m was also a surprise.

Common Raven

We went to the area the Crimson winged Finches had seemed to favour yesterday but there was no sign of them. The weather in contrast to yesterday was fabulous with a crystal clear blue sky and sun but still very cold. The scenery was just breathtaking in it's beauty and we had the place to ourselves.

Oukaimeden with low cloud coming off the mountains

These huts are used in the summer months by goat and sheep herders. They

are also the haunt of Black Redstarts and Black Wheatears in winter 

Brahim and myself wandered around looking in vain for the finches but it was Otman who located them and alerted us. They were further up the valley so he came to collect us in the 4x4 and we drove to the spot and there they were, feeding on the rocky ground to our left with some Rock Sparrows. I suggested we remain in the 4x4 and with incredible luck the birds flew over and landed on a rocky slope right by us.

Crimson winged Finches were feeding on this slope

We estimated there was now around twenty five to thirty of them in small groups and we spent the next hour watching them at relatively close quarters feeding on seeds amongst the rocks and stones on the slope to our right. One male in particular came fairly close. I got my photos. 

Male Crimson winged Finch

Female Crimson Winged Finch

Many many photos. Far too many photos I agree but I just love this bird for what it represents. After an hour or so something spooked the finches and they were gone. We waited for thirty minutes or so to see if they would return but no such luck.

It was now time to head for Marrakech and my flight home. One brief stop by the dam and we found two more Black Redstarts, a Dipper and a Green Sandpiper that presumably was migrating over the Atlas Mountains but for now was resting by the water's edge.

Three hours flying on EasyJet and all this would just be a memory for me.

Below is a list of what I saw on my trip

Birds

Bonelli's Eagle/ Peregrine Falcon/ Lanner Falcon/  Osprey/ Long legged Buzzard/ Black winged Kite/ Marsh Harrier/ Common Kestrel/ Pharoah Eagle Owl/ Little Owl/ Common Raven/ Brown-necked Raven/ 'Maghreb' Magpie/ Jay/ Red billed Chough/ Alpine Chough/ White Stork/ Eurasian Spoonbill/ Great White Egret/ Cattle Egret/ Little Egret/ Grey Heron/  Northern Bald Ibis/ Glossy Ibis/ Great Cormorant/ White breasted Cormorant/ Great Crested Grebe/ Little Grebe/ Black necked Grebe/ Common Coot/ Common Moorhen/ Common Shelduck/ Ruddy Shelduck/ Mallard/ Northern Pintail/ Northern Shoveler/ Eurasian Wigeon/ Common Teal/ Marbled Duck/ Lesser Black backed Gull (L. f. fuscus, graellsii & intermedius) / Yellow legged Gull/ Herring Gull/ Audouin's Gull/ Mediterranean Gull/ Slender billed Gull/ Black headed Gull/ Sandwich Tern/ Common Tern/  Balearic Shearwater/ Eurasian Curlew/ Oystercatcher/ Lapwing/ Stone Curlew/ Common Greenshank/ Common Redshank/ Spotted Redshank/ Ruff/ Avocet/ Grey Plover/ Knot/ Black winged Stilt/ Common Snipe/ Green Sandpiper/ Common Sandpiper/ Ringed Plover/ Little Ringed Plover/ Dunlin/ Sanderling/  Greater Flamingo/ Black crowned Tchagra (heard only)/ Great Grey Shrike L. e.elegans & algeriensis/ Woodpigeon/ Collared Dove/ Laughing Dove/ Dipper/ Common Kingfisher/ Spotted Sandgrouse/ Black-bellied Sandgrouse (heard only)/ Great Spotted Woodpecker/ Levaillant's Woodpecker/ Wall Creeper/ Blackbird/ Song Thrush/ Ring Ouzel/ Blue Rock Thrush/ Moussier's Redstart /Black Redstart/ European Stonechat/ Northern Wheatear/ Red-rumped Wheatear/ Black Wheatear/ White crowned Wheatear/ Maghreb Wheatear/ Spotless Starling/ Fulvous Babbler/ Common Bulbul/ Crested Lark (including long billed examples)/ Thekla Lark/ Thick billed Lark/ Desert Lark/ Bar tailed Lark/ Lesser Short toed Lark/ Hoopoe Lark/ Temminck's Lark/ Horned Lark/ Tree Pipit/ Meadow Pipit/ White Wagtail/ 'Moroccan' White Wagtail/ Yellow Wagtail M.f.iberiae/ Grey Wagtail/ Crag Martin/ Rock Martin/ Brown throated Martin/ European Swallow/ Greenfinch/ Goldfinch/ Serin/ Common Linnet/ Crimson winged Finch/ African Chaffinch/ Common Chaffinch/ 'Atlas' Common Crossbill/ Trumpeter Finch/ House Sparrow/ Spanish Sparrow/ Desert Sparrow/ Rock Sparrow/ Common Chiffchaff/ Blackcap/ Sardinian Warbler/ Tristram's Warbler/ Scrub Warbler/ Zitting Cisticola/ Cetti's Warbler/ Cirl Bunting/ Rock Bunting/ House Bunting / Great Tit/ African Blue Tit/ Coal Tit.

Red denotes lifers

Mammals

Desert Fox

Grey Seal

Shaw's Jird

Barbary Ground Squirrel

Camel