GARRAF
Already half-an-hour late leaving, it seemed my chances were already blown when my wife informed me I was taking her to Barcelona first - and then plugged in her hairdryer! Undaunted, and knowing the ‘five minutes’ she said it would take her meant twenty, I stuck my head out of the window.
The sound of two marbles tack-tacking together alerted my attentions to the silhouette of a Blackcap in the garden fence (although where it got the marbles from I have no idea). A Crested Tit seemed to reply with a soft rattle from the clothesline but, perhaps distracted by the Starling flying overhead, a Blue Tit beat it to the peanut holder. Sardinian Warbler and Great Tit barged their way into the growing symphony and by the time the lights were fully up the orchestra was completed by a chinkling tree-top Serin, an invasion of unappreciative House Sparrows and a Magpie laughing on from the neighbour’s aerial. The role of conductor was shared perhaps between the baton-like tail flickings of a White Wagtail and my very own wintering Black Redstart. My wife was still drying her hair.
Just as well as there was still one potentially difficult species missing. Up to forty-four had been frequenting the garden since the turn of the year but I needed just one of them. A male Chaffinch joined a Collared Dove underneath the feeders and, not before time, twenty-three Siskin came in to rapturous applause. Well, I cheered anyway.
Thanks to a near-empty petrol tank and a tractor driver who was obviously worried about arriving somewhere early, it was already ten-thirty by the time I arrived at my re-scheduled first destination. I’d picked up Kestrel, Woodpigeon, Grey Heron and Cormorant en route and added Monk Parakeet and Yellow-legged Gull in Barcelona itself but I could already feel time slipping away.
CAL TET, Llobregat
Still, Cal Tet, a little-known wetland reserve close to the airport, promised much and, after a fallow field near the entrance yielded Pheasant, Snipe, Goldfinch, Meadow Pipit, Skylark and Crested Lark, I entered the gates breathless and eager.
However, for the next minutes I went no further than the Kingfisher perched in a spot of sunlight on a small bridge and even had time, entertained meanwhile by noisy Cetti’s and Fan-tailed Warblers, to mark the red base to its female bill.
I always make my way to the shores of Ca L’arana with urgent expectation regardless of today’s quest and so make no excuses for skipping past Little Grebe, Little Egret, Coot, Moorhen, Chiffchaff and Blackbird. But a flock of Crag Martin scything through the mist of tiny insects just above the reeds did delay me and I wavered for some time over a pair of Sandwich Tern over the river, laughing mockingly at the attempts of the Black-headed Gulls to show off.
Once at the beach I scanned it with anticipation picking out Mediterranean Gull and Shelduck but only a single Kentish Plover and a Dunlin represented the waders. I was disappointed but it proved short-lived as a series of careful scans through the rise and fall of the water at the mouth of the river revealed a solitary Eider Duck, the same one I believe that we found on a trip in November and a great tick for the region.
But the best was yet to come. On the way back, past the somewhat odd sight of a Buzzard perched next to a Stonechat, I was suddenly smothered in shadow and looked up to confront the possibility of a Great Bittern landing on my head. The colour of this bird, with a yellow-green hue not at all appreciated from books, is so unique that the only reason you don’t shout Bittern! the very moment you see it is that you somehow need that moment to let your luck sink in. Beautiful.
Unphased by our close-encounter, it flew up and off, paddling over the tree-tops of la pineda towards the shore. By the time I’d climbed the tower to track it, it had disappeared and I was left with the Wren that had been calling since I arrived at the spot.
Then I noticed that it was calling AT something. And then I noticed that that something was a Moustached Warbler. With a partner! Now, I really didn’t care how many birds I saw, there was no way I was moving from here first and, like a game of ‘stare challenge’, I fixed my gaze onto them lest I should lose them for a second. I love this bird and I watched them systematically sift their way through a thin line of reeds along a ditch towards me, picking off morsels from each and every stem like dust-obsessed librarians. Taking turns to overtake each other, they also hopped past a Robin and a half-dozen Reed Buntings before flicking off into cover.
Astonishingly, the very next bird I saw upon entering the Cal Tet hide, bar a Marsh Harrier teasing an unknown something the other side of it, was another Moustached Warbler, scaling and leaping across the cut reed bases just below the lip of the window.
The lake itself was awash with Mallard, Gadwall, Shovelor and a single Tufted Duck with Teal and a handful of Purple Swamphen making use of the boundaries. The long-staying White-fronted Goose made a lazy appearance, waddling out of some long grass for a sip and a snooze.
The outward-bound walk donated nothing new save a bunch of twurping Greenfinch, a Cattle Egret and another Great Bittern flying lazily over head. I said the plumage was unique but of course there is one other thing that matches its colour exactly – the seasonal spectrum of shades and shade found in a reed bed itself.
Thinking I’d had my lot for this site, I was driving the long way out ‘just in case’ when another stunning heron almost flew in to me, or the car. And this time I did shout. ‘£@k m€ a Little Bittern!’ This was truly outstanding. As a rule they don’t over winter, of course, but following the trend of many of its cousins across Europe it shouldn’t really be a surprise. It settled and stilled itself on the opposite side of a channel and this time, eventually, I was the first to move.
The second leg (including photos, e.g. Wallcreeper) of the Remolar-Filipines Reserve at Llobregat and the Garraf Massif can be read on my new blog by clicking here:
www.surfbirds.com/blog/spainbirding