Bird Party

A red-billed woodhoopoe

THIS appeared in Leisure in late 2000 (probably December), under the headline “Welcome to the bird party!”.

DID you know that our fine, feathered friends have a strange proclivity for getting together in a group of trees and, well, doing what birds do – eat fruit and insects, chirp and sing, and generally create a bit of a stir?

Normally bird-watching can be a bit of a bind, as you seek out those often very tiny specimens amid the leaves and shadows. But not so during our recent visit to the Dassie Trail, a nature reserve comprising thick riverine forest beside the Nahoon River estuary in East London.

Grey heron

We kicked off by surveying the river itself, and found on its surface and banks, among others, a grey heron, its feathers flapping in the breeze, a white-breasted cormorant sunning itself on a piece of driftwood, and a juvenile kelp gull swimming along duck-like.

Common terns wheeled across the surface, while a great white egret (85-92cm) stood absolutely still then spread its giant wings and traced a graceful path along the river before – watched through the binoculars – landing a few hundred metres away.

Half-collared kingfisher

Running across the mud flats (the tide was out) were a busy group of white-fronted plovers, as a tiny half-collared kingfisher darted hither and thither along the bank.

In a thicket of trees beneath a cliff we first heard, then saw, a Knysna lourie, which then flew off in a flash of scarlet wings to find a new perch.

All this and the party hadn’t even begun!

As we headed into the forest right next to the river, we encountered . . . nothing. Silence. Then, with a jolt my son, Luke, 9, and I were frightened out of our wits by a pair of hadedah ibises which flew off a branch just metres away from us, with loud, wailing shrieks.

A few minutes later we found ourselves in the thick of a real, unadulterated bird party.

High above us in the canopy we picked up a grey-headed bush shrike, one of the more elusive birds, with its beautiful yellow-orange breast and distinctive bill. Known as the ghost bird, the reason became obvious as it made its haunting “oooooop” call. I first thought two other large birds which fluttered out of a tree ahead of us were louries. But, with such big bills they could be only one thing: hornbills. This magnificent pair of trumpeter hornbills moved playfully from tree to tree, seemingly unconcerned about the human presence.

By now the bird party was in full swing in the canopy above as black-eyed and sombre bulbuls, forest weavers, Cape weavers and red-fronted tinker barbets, among many others, were either seen or heard.

Bronze mannikin

To cap a superb outing, a flourish of bronze mannikins alighted in a tree just ahead of us on the path, and as we returned to the river bank we saw two red-necked francolins fly hurriedly out of one thicket, only to conceal themselves equally quickly in another.

But if this outing had been a party, what was to come would constitute a bird banquet, so plentiful and diverse were the species encountered.

My nephew, Dylan Weyer, who has just completed matric and has been an avid birder for years, told us matter-of-factly that he thought we might have some success at the Amalinda Nature Reserve, on the outskirts of East London. The reserve comprises a dam, some fish hatcheries and a substantial area of bushveld and forest.

Dabchicks and yellow-billed ducks playfully swanned around on the dam as we heard and identified a host of species – but saw very few. However, the sight of a huge eland on the hillside across the lake enchanted us, as did a long-crested eagle, which remained perched atop a distant thorn tree throughout our visit.

As we headed along a gravel road towards a picnic area, the banquet broke out around us. Dylan was almost overcome with excitement as he battled to note down the numerous species seen and heard on his check-list. In all, that morning, 58 types were identified.

Black-collared barbet

Anyone with a knowledge of birds will find it hard to believe that within a radius of about 100 metres we saw, among others, several bizarrely behaved red-billed woodhoopoes, half a dozen crowned hornbills, a cuddly brown-hooded kingfisher, Knysna and cardinal woodpeckers, a paradise flychatcher, yellow-eyed canaries, a madness of forktailed drongos, a tambourine dove and a pair of black-collared barbets.

And, as we tiptoed through the grass for a better view of an elusive olive bush shrike, Dylan caught sight, in a low acacia bush a few metres away, of the truly magnificent Klaas’s cuckoo, surely one of the most attractive wild birds in southern Africa.

With a Knysna lourie “barking” away in the distance, and the southern boubous, sombre bulbuls and a myriad others keeping the music going, an intended hour-long visit had turned into three before, satiated by such a glut of God’s finest creatures, we had to become our own bouncers and throw ourselves out.

As we drove off, the party continued unabated in the balmy heat.