Namibia, day 3 ... Waterberg

13 November – Waterberg National Park

Breakfast was at 7am, with a lift for those who wanted one down the hill, so we could make a 7:30 rendezvous with our game drive for the morning. There was room for all of us in the open-sided truck with driver and guide Nelson. The route on wide dirt tracks through the lowlands below the cliff, pausing go through several gates, included stops to see a steenbok crossing the road, warthogs and hornbills. To our right a couple of hamerkops flew through and on the grass on the left was our first crowned lapwing. Somewhere we passed a farmstead under a flowering jacaranda tree before the route took us up the escarpment to the plateau at the top of the cliffs.

Waterberg National Park, panorama from the top of the plateau.

The sandy track through scrub brought us, in time, to three waterholes, at least waterholes of sorts. By an impressive stone wall to mark the spot, a sandy walkway took us to a large hide overlooking a large area of sand with a stone pond in the centre, close enough to see but far enough so visiting mammals were not disturbed by humans in the hide. At this first hide a large bull eland came from stage right, drank and exited stage left. The baboons around the water then had to make way for a family party of Cape buffalos, some of which went into the water body to drink. These are not native, we learnt, as the ear-tag on the biggest testified: the introduction of TB-free Cape buffalo is to add interest and establish a population that can then be traded to supplement other areas. It’s not nature conservation as we understand it in Europe but part of the model used in southern Africa where game is behind fences and has to be justified economically. The Cape buffalo would struggle to survive without the water provided, taking advantage of Waterberg’s easy to harvest supply.

Bull eland (Cheryl Hunt).

Sable antelope (Cheryl Hunt). 

We passed a couple of giraffes (also non-native, and unlikely to be able to reach the Waterberg plateau) on the way to the second hide. The entrance and hide was much the same and an elegant-looking sable antelope (again, probably non-native here) was drinking as we arrived. It limped away – a hind foot or ankle was damaged – and Nelson located three kudu in the scrub to our left. As at the other waterhole we could pick out African monarch butterflies around the water. Here, as well as these and tiny blues, there was a butterfly that was a two-tailed pasha type, one of the emperor Charaxes group, species unknown. Two golden-breasted buntings on the concrete rim of the waterhole were birds to enjoy, distinctive with strong black and white black head markings and white on the wings as well as the deep yellow breast of their name. Geoff called many of us back as were walking away from the hide as half a dozen elands had appeared. What elegant beasts they are. Those who didn’t come back to look at the elands saw some impalas near the truck.

The third water hole had no hide and was simply another stone pond in an open sandy area, with a rock kestrel but little else to see. Time had moved on so we headed back, pausing for panoramic photos by the cliff-edge. Leaving Nelson by camp reception, we all just about squeezed into Geoff’s bus to drive up the hill to the restaurant for a cold drink and a light lunch.

After a siesta we met up, at 4pm again, for a gentle saunter through the scrub between the chalets and the cliffs. By the road at last there was a good view of rosy-faced lovebirds for everyone; a very short distance into the sandy ground under the scrub we looked at ant-lion larval pits. New birds as we progressed included grey-backed camaroptera, black-faced waxbill and black cuckoo. A wet flush had bright blue Julia skimmer dragonflies. Back on the road, the first few to arrive at the huge fig tree timed it perfectly to see a handover of food from a male grey hornbill to a female whose beak showed through the crack beyond which she was sealed into a nesting hole.

After dinner there were Ferrero Rocher chocolates to share to mark Malcolm’s birthday and we admired the badge with his picture and flashing lights, Helen’s handiwork of course.

Red-veined dropwing, resting on a termite mound near the Waterberg chalets.

Namibia, day 2 ... dik-diks outside chalets

12 November – Windhoek Botanic Gardens and drive to Waterberg National Park

Narrow-leaved ipomoea, Windhoek Botanic Gardens.

Breakfast was at 7am and we were away just after 8am, to take advantage of the relative cool of the morning. We then took the short drive to Windhoek Botanic Gardens where we were greeted by some 150 little swifts circling and calling around us. We saw their mud nests on the buildings once we were inside. 

Little swifts buzz over Windhoek Botanic Gardens.

After a covered area with drought-loving succulents the wide paths took us around helpfully labelled shrubs and trees, though most had little more than a few leaves showing. There were two types of skinks, variegated and striped, and a low rocky outcrop had a pair of rock agamas displaying, the orange-headed and orange-tailed male doing press-ups to impress the female. Scarlet-chested sunbird and diderick cuckoo were nice finds for some of the group, some saw rosy-faced lovebird, Gill saw a rock hyrax and red-headed finch was probably a new bird for everyone. The showiest butterfly seems to be a good match for wandering donkey acraea; an orange-tip may have been speckled sulphur tip and the underwing pattern showed well on a brown-veined white.

Male rock agama, Windhoek Botanic Gardens (Tim Hunt).

The rest of the morning and past noon was taken up with the long drive to Waterberg NP. The roads were good through mostly rather featureless thorn scrub, punctuated with termite mounds in the latter half. Not far from our destination we stopped under the shade of an acacia for a picnic lunch – southern yellow hornbill was new here – before we finished the last part of the journey on a dirt road. There were two marico flycatchers by the gate into the Waterberg complex and a nicely tame Burchell’s glossy starling was enjoying the watered lawns near reception where Geoff collected keys. We drove to the higher part of the site to find our chalets, spread out under the long sandstone cliffs. A little sparrowhawk dashed through before we split up and Geoff gave us a warning about the house-breaking abilities of the party of baboons at home in the area.

Red-billed spurfowl: common at Waterberg (Tim Hunt).

African grey hornbill (Tim Hunt).

After settling in and a break, most of us reconvened at 4pm for a gentle stroll in the chalet area. Red-billed spurfowls fed on the grass and an African grey hornbill was a new bird. Two Verraux’s eagles drifted through towards the cliff; a buzzing song alerted Geoff to a white-bellied sunbird high on a bare tree. There were groundscraper thrushes on a different patch of grass, like a short-tailed mistle thrush. On the drier ground around the buildings and under the trees was a big group of little birds. Most were green-winged pytilias (formerly melba finch), pretty enough in their own right but among them were two stunning male violet-eared waxbills, with blue waxbills for good measure. A couple of grey go-away-birds were dust-bathing as we walked back to where we’d come from, and then banded mongooses moved to and fro in the roadside vegetation. Later they emerged, 14 of them, on the grass by the chalets where they mingled with Damara dik-diks.

We walked to the dining room, a converted hospital, past the swimming pool where earlier Daphne had swum and seen a snake. Checklists with a drink then dinner were followed by walking back up the hill with Darrin, armed with torches. A bat was hanging in a bare tree, then more flying around. A pearl-spotted owlet was calling and a lucky few saw some bushbabies scampering through the trees. 

Damara dik-dik (Cheryl Hunt).

Namibia, day 1 ... Windhoek

This is the first of what is intended to be a series of Honeyguide blog postings about Honeyguide's holiday in Namibia, November 2018. 

Namibia Day 1, 10/11 November – Heathrow to Windhoek

A bright English morning turned to driving rain on the M25, but everyone made it to Heathrow Terminal 2, including David and Steph who had flown in from Manchester. A walk to the distant departure gate was followed by the long, smooth and very full overnight flight to Johannesburg, punctuated by meals and sleep as best everyone could manage while sitting. Passport control and luggage reclaim was quick, on this occasion. 

Southern marked weaver, Windhoek (Tim Hunt)

Observant Jeremy noticed the rock martins outside as we walked – albeit not far – from Terminal A to Terminal B to check-in for Windhoek, then walked back to Terminal A to go through security again and catch the Windhoek flight. Outside there were little swifts. The onboard meal, an early lunch, was welcome; less so the wobbles in turbulence as we descended. The pilot took us round again and then it was a smooth landing, though he said he nearly postponed it for a second time on account of baboons on the runway. There was full African heat as we walked the short distance to the terminal, with pale, long-tailed African palm swifts buzzing round the buildings and palm trees. Passport control here was very slow, but eventually we were through, meeting Geoff and Darrin who’d driven with the vehicles from Cape Town.

  

Joe's Beer House, Windhoek,  with eccentric paraphernalia

With cash and sim cards sorted, we noted laughing dove, fork-tailed drongo and house sparrows around the airport car park. We then drove west to Windhoek, Geoff explaining how recent rain had brought green to the scrubby acacia trees. We seemed to be earlier than expected at Klein Windhoek Guest House, but keys and rooms were found. In the meantime some of us watched a southern masked weaver on a new nest, and Geoff showed us the bird bath he’d filled earlier which drew in red-faced mousebirds. We went to rooms to freshen up. Outside my room I found blue waxbill, white-crowned sparrow weavers and acacia pied barbet, and the theme of easy birds close to home continued for everyone who gathered for a cold beer. The star species was certainly swallow-tailed bee-eater; fly-over European bee-eaters called on occasions too. A yellow mongoose wandered across the plot of land we overlooked on at least three occasions.

After a bit of a rest, most of the group gathered at 4pm for a short drive to Avis Dam, a popular spot for dog walkers and others out on a Sunday this hot afternoon. Where there is sometimes water today it was dry, though the mixture of scrub behind the dam and dry grassland where water might have been was still productive. Aerial feeders stayed with us in good numbers the whole time: white-rumped and little swifts, rock martins and striped swallows. A plain bird in the scrub had the chestnut undertail area that is a feature of chestnut-vented tit-babbler (actually a Sylvia warbler); a dark bird under a bench revealed the red underside of crimson-breasted shrike. There was more: a familiar chat perched alongside more swallow-tailed bee-eaters; three African hoopoes landed on a bare tree-top; a black-headed heron and six blacksmith plovers flew into the grassy area.

We gathered at 6:20 for the short drive to the celebrated Joe’s Beer House for our evening meal among its eccentric paraphernalia.

Swallow-tailed bee-eater, Windhoek (David Bennett)

A Tale of Two Bugs

November’s guided walk at NWT Thorpe Marshes was on a lovely mild morning. Stonechats are overwintering on the reserve for the third time and both of the pair showed well for the group of 20 people. However winter birds, such as ducks on the gravel pit, St Andrews Broad, were all but absent.

The riverside footpath isn’t always the nicest with some muddy patches, but it feels sheltered and lush. Keen eyed group members found two interesting bugs tucked into the stinging nettles and white dead-nettles.

I guess any experienced bug observer would know them, but I couldn’t name them straight away and that feels like a good reason to share their names and pictures. Much as most of us would know blackbirds and chaffinches, or red admirals and large whites, common bugs feel like a learning curve worth tackling.

Thorpe Marshes regular Susan Weeks showed herself to be that experienced bug observer and came up with the right IDs on the spot. Well, I was impressed.

The red and black bug is Corizus hyoscyami, a scentless plant bug called 'cinnamon bug' or, rather simply, 'black & red squash bug'. I don’t recall seeing it at Thorpe Marshes before. In East Anglia it should be an easy one to remember. Not so once you get into Europe. Have a look at all these rather similar red and black bugs.

The shield bug is hairy shieldbug Dolycoris baccarum, also known as sloe bug (e.g. in Chinery’s Pocket Guide to Insects) though that name is waning as it seems to be a misnomer with no link to sloes or blackthorn. The black and white antennae are easier to observe than the bug’s hairiness.

Even without the right field guides, help is easy thanks to online sources. These two are good: Norfolk & Norwich Naturalists’ Society's Shield Bugs of Norfolk and, across the river from Thorpe Marshes, James Emerson’s Shieldbugs & allied insects of the Whitlingham area. Bear in mind that larval forms of bugs can look quite different to adults.

Brochure wrap

The Honeyguide brochure for 2019 will drop on doormats soon. This year it will be in an envelope rather than polythene wrap. The colourful covers will be hidden, but the aim is straightforward – to avoid single use plastic.

I’ve used the same local mailing house, Cavalier, for many years. I also meet my main contact there from time to time on the youth football circuit, another reason to stay loyal. Magazines from the National Trust and RSPB now come in a see-through wrap made from potato starch, like the material used quite widely for food waste bins, and these compost readily. Could the same, I asked, be arranged for the Honeyguide mailshot?

They had reservations. Starch wraps have short shelf-life. If there’s no demand, there is soon a decomposing pile in the warehouse.

Secondly, will they be widely used? They cost about 3p each compared with about 1p each for plastic. That’s a modest difference in cost for a small mailshot – of about 1,000 – for Honeyguide. Others may not think the same. Legislation or taxes are probably the answer – think of the collapse in plastic bag use since they cost 5p each.

The upshot was the mailing house agreed to get some in, but quite not soon enough for our mailing. And yes, I did first ask many months ago. So we went with old-fashioned envelopes, widely recyclable, as the other non-plastic option. Next year, we’ll see.

 

Car sticker

Less recyclable is a new product: a Honeyguide car sticker. It should have a long life: it should peel off without leaving a mark and even be moved. These haven’t been enclosed in the brochure mailing: I concluded that many might be thrown away. Instead I plan to include them with booking confirmations in the coming months.

The Honeyguide car sticker is the same size and shape as car stickers for the National Trust, RSPB, wildlife trusts etc, and looks good alongside them, I think. I hope you agree and that they spark some conversations, for example in nature reserve car parks.

Holiday reports

With waste minimisation still in mind, let me pose a question. Since the start of Honeyguide – in the pre-internet era – the information package for holidays, for enquiries or with booking confirmations, has included a previous holiday report, where available. We admit to being proud of the reports: effort and TLC goes into their production, and leaders certainly refer to them. But that shouldn’t mean routines are cast in stone. Are holiday reports, in reality, better looked at online? We could, for example, still post reports as a souvenir after a holiday or on request, but with respect to future bookings is a previous report a waste of paper? Answers on a recyclable postcard, or an email!

Nosey grasshoppers

It’s not uncommon in southern Europe to come across a grasshopper that looks like a stick insect. A quick browse in Chinery’s book on insects and there was a species that matched it well – Acrida ungarica. This book gives no English name but more recently names that crop up are nosed grasshopper or cone-headed grasshopper, from its look, and Hungarian grasshopper, from its scientific name.

Insect ID often isn’t that easy and that’s the case here. Paul Tout, Honeyguide leader in Istria and Slovenia, sent me a link to an Italian picture showing two species. Some internet sources show three subspecies.

Then Paul Brock’s book ‘A photographic guide to Insects of Southern Europe & the Mediterranean’ was released late in 2017, and a visit to Crete in April was an ideal time to test this fine new book in the field.

Truxalis nasuta or Nosey Cone-headed Grasshopper, Crete, April 2018. Only easy to see this green form when it steps out of the vegetation.

The insects in Crete match perfectly what Brock calls Truxalis nasuta or Nosey Cone-headed Grasshopper (using Brock’s style of capital letters). The IUCN* calls this species Splendid Cone-headed Grasshopper.

The IUCN also says “The genus Acrida is in need of taxonomic revision”. However most references, Brock included, have simply two species: Acrida ungarica in much of central and southern Europe and Truxalis nasuta in the Mediterranean, including coastal Iberia, Crete and North Africa, albeit with maps showing quite a lot of overlap. I have re-labelled photos from Morocco as Truxalis, following Brock.

Truxalis nasuta, Morocco, March 2017. A dry year in Morocco so a brown form. 

Colour variation is a nice feature of these grasshoppers, green or brown to match the surrounding vegetation.

They’ve always been silent in my experience, but a recent post on YouTube from Spain shows that they rub their hind legs against their wings like other grasshoppers.

* The International Union for Conservation of Nature

Nature in the heart of Norwich

A mass of ox-eye daisies by Canary Way.

For several years I have kept track of the fortunes of some bee orchids in urban Norwich. It all started by accident when I was cycling past and noticed both a bee orchid and a man with a strimmer. 

That conversation led to an annual visit to a patch of grass - now a wild flower meadow - outside Big Yellow Self Storage on Canary Way, opposite Norwich City FC’s football ground (for example Big Yellow bee orchids are back, June 2016).

Fast forward ten seasons and leaving the flowers to grow and bloom has become routine here – in a good way. Never mind the orchids – the show of ox-eye daisies is reason enough to stop and take a look. 

Of course ox-eye daisies are common on roadside verges, but somehow sandwiched between a garage and a supermarket alongside the inner ring road they have extra appeal. Not surprisingly the flowers were buzzing with bees when I took a close look on 5 June 2018.

Red-tailed bumblebee on an ox-eye daisy.

Bee orchid; this one has thrived despite being slightly strimmed.

Bee orchids like thin turf and have a way of popping up opportunistically in surprising and often infertile areas. 

The denseness of the daisies made me wonder if the bee orchids would be crowded out – in ecological terms as this bit of grassland micro-habitat moves to a later stage in its natural succession.

The reality was interesting. Only one bee orchid was among the uncut area with the ox-eye daisies. 

However there were six more in the adjacent area that had been rough-cut earlier in the spring – but cut long enough ago for the relatively late flowering orchids to grow.

It shows that wildlife has a capacity to surprise. So if you are passing The Meadow in the City, do stop and take a look. Better still, pop in and say thanks to the Big Yellow team for how they've helped nature.

Updates: 18 June, three Honeyguiders visit, find 12 spikes, and I know they missed one. 25 June, after hot, dry spell: ox-eye daisies like a bone-dry hay crop, 8 bee orchids spikes either gone over or last-lingering blooms.

Ox-eye daisies outside Big Yellow Self Storage.