Arena of the Larks

Osugat habitatMaasai boysFat-tailed sheepTravelling down from Nairobi on the Namanga road, about an hour out of Arusha, one passes a seemingly featureless arid plain that stretches away eastwards toward the distant snowy summit of Kilimanjaro. This tree-less plain is home to what is arguably the rarest bird in all of mainland of Africa. A 'newly-created' passerine species with a global population of at very best one hundred individuals.

It's a little upstanding lark, apricot-cinnamon breasted and scaly-backed, with an overall plumage pattern remarkably similar to the nearctic Buff-breasted Sandpiper. A very terrestrial lark with a sharp, digging bill and hardly any tail. It was discovered by the first conservator of nearby Arusha National Park, one John Beesley, and only forty years ago. Maasai Lark: photo ZulAt that time it was deemed a subspecies, of a polytypic and widespread southern African species the Spike-heeled Lark, by the late Con Benson under the pro-lumping philosophy that was fashionable in those somewhat simpler cold war days. However recent DNA studies by South African ornithologist Keith Barnes have shown conclusively that this very endearing little pixy of the plain, the erstwhile Pygmy Spike-heeled Lark is a full species in its own right and the name Chersomanes beesleyi has been proposed.

The Handbook of the Birds of the World and Ian Sinclair both call it Beesley's Lark. Whatever the name, it's a delightful sprite, which might well benefit both itself, and its disappearing home land, if it were to become known henceforth as Beesley's Maasai Lark. For it is confined within a frequently hot, often dry and sometimes very dusty, treeless terrain; all of which one can see from the tarmac of the Arusha-Nairobi highway. A total world range that is truly tiny, less than 30 sq km, all of which is communal grazing, land too poor to farm, shared by pastoralist families from two permanent Maasai villages on the western edge of the plain, those of Engikaret and Ikereyani.

The Maasai Lark's ecological requirements, understandably enough, are far from fully understood, but one fact is immediately obvious - they cannot tolerate the presence of trees. It has been postulated that the Maasai Lark became isolated from its southern relatives on this open plain some two million years ago when more humid conditions held sway across eastern and southern Africa. In that distant epoch moist bushland and well-developed acacia savanna would have occupied even those lands that are today almost barren, and certainly devoid of woody growth. Over many ensuing millennia C. beesleyi gradually became smaller in all its dimensions and the plumage less darkly marked than that of its group of closest relatives who were simultaneously evolving into what we know as the various races of southern Africa's Spike-heeled Lark i.e. Chersomanes albofasciata . However as you can see from Zul Bhatia's beautiful portrait our bird certainly retained a long bill and that elongated hind claw - the 'spike heel'.

Despite being isolated from its near relatives for so long, one can hardly call the little bird lonely, Maasai Lark: photo Martin Goodeyfor in 'good years' they are quite sociable, and can be seen in groups of from two to five, sharing the seemingly forbidding plain with at least eight other members of their avian tribe - the family Alaudidae. So prevalent are larks that nowadays visiting birders and the international ornithological community refer to this very small area of Tanzania as quite simply "Lark Plains". Even the most 'barren' areas of the plain support a lark community of as many as six species at any one time. However the exact composition of this community depends largely upon the degree of soil moisture prevailing at the time.

Short-tailed Lark: photo Martin GoodeyRed-capped Lark: photo Martin GoodeyMost similar to Beesley's is the finely marked Short-tailed Lark Pseudalaemon fremantlii who sports an even longer, deeper, more impressive bill which it uses to drill into the powdery cake-like soil searching for beetle grubs within and between the patches of vegetation, sending up puffs of fine dust as it does so. The distinctive flight call of this bird is a jaunty whistled, clearly disyllabic, "choo-eee".

Most widespread and easiest to identify is the handsome 'short-toed' Red-capped Lark (Calandrella cinerea saturatior) who together with its close congener the noticeably pink-billed Athi Short-toed Lark (Calandrella athensis); which was formerly considered conspecific with the extralimital Somali Short-toed Lark (C. somalica); truly bless the plain with their sweet and varied melodies, interspersed with much beautiful mimicry of other species, in the wetter months of the year. The song cascades down from each bird as it patrols its range in a circular song flight high above the ground. Athi Short-toed Lark: photo Martin GoodeyFischer's Sparrow Lark: photo Martin GoodeyThe almost ubiquitous Fischer's Sparrow Larks (Eremopterix leucopareia) are always about, and sometimes extremely abundant, criss-crossing the area at almost any time of year. Rather robust Rufous-naped Larks (Mirafra africana athi) hold territories around the periphery of the plain and wherever a few dwarf acacias or scattered stunted euphorbia bushes coalesce to form straggly island clumps, usually alongside shallow seasonal drainage courses, or by rather inconspicuous hummocks of relief. Rufous-naped Lark: photo Martin GoodeyFoxy Lark: photo Martin Goodey
Toward the edges of the open plain the conspicuously white-browed Foxy Lark (Calendulauda - alopex- intercedens), which was formerly placed in the genus Mirafra and considered one of two north-eastern subspecies of the very widespread southern African Fawn-coloured Lark (Calendulauda africanoides) can always be found as soon as there is some spreading acacia growth in excess of two metres in stature.

Pnk-breasted Lark: photo Anabel HarriesOnce you enter the acacia-commiphora dry bush floral community that surrounds the plain the simple high-pitched phrases of that very typical Somali-Maasai bird the remarkably pipit-like Pink-breasted Lark (Calendulauda poecilosterna) may be heard; even in the heat of the day; delivered obligingly from a favoured songpost on the topmost twig of an acacia.

To the local Maasai, who have maintained a tenacious presence hereabouts for somewhat longer than most people, the area is called "Ang'yata Osugat" - the treeless plain of the Osugat watercourse. Treeless because the land is usually parched for nine months of the year, and at 1,350 metres elevation it is fully exposed to an equatorial sun that sends most sensible terrestrial vertebrates scuttling for cover by ten in the morning. The dusty ochre soils overlay a porous calcrite hard-pan that further exacerbates the aridity by fast removal of any soil moisture. Heavy rain is extremely rare on the plain itself because those awesome giant mountains, the sentinels of Kilima Njaro, (in the Ma'a language Oldoinyo Borr the icy mountain) and Mount Meru (Oldoinyo Orok i.e. the black mountain, or alternatively, Oldoinyo lo Larusa - mountain of the Warusha people) shield the plain from the moisture bearing easterlies which issue from the Indian Ocean 300 km to the east. These two magnificent volcanoes, together with Longido and another Oldoinyo Orok, this time on the Kenya border (i.e. Namanga Hill), and a dozen distant Rift Valley eminences, nearly 100km farther west, create a serrated circular wall of inspirational relief.

Once you get out of your boxy four-by-four and start to walk the plain, these silent watchful giants of stone rapidly overturn any initial perceptions of an apparent scenic featureless-ness. For now you too are fully exposed, out there in the arena, just as insignificant and insubstantial in their presence as the brownish little larks; posturing gladiators, playing out short dramas, in equally eventful little lives.

Maasai men

I became hooked, and have been a frequent visitor to the arena of the larks for over two years. And now I am exhorting others, most far better placed than I, to help embark upon a project that might help ensure the long term survival of, not only Beesley's Maasai Lark and all the other birds and animals of this desert steppe, but also of the three pastoralist Maasai communities, upon whose evolving ecological awareness a living future for this land so clearly depends.

The plain must always have been grazed by wild ungulates and latterly by herds of sheep and goats, cattle and donkeys. Some herds of wild ungulates still file across the plain but sadly their number today is but an impoverished rump of a former abundance. Lark's view of OsugatBy contrast the number of domestic stock, pastured all around the plain, has been increasing annually, irrespective of deteriorating climatic conditions (decreasing rainfall - desertification), as the local Maasai herders seek to embrace that which they feel they cannot change; private land ownership and the free market; and therefore increasingly they switch from cows to sheep and goats; i.e. to smaller, more resistant, and in times of worsening drought, to more easily sell-able assets.

So it is that by early December 2007 it is only in the very centre of the arena, where fewer animals go, that one can reliably find the now critically endangered Beesley bird. From our observations each 'breeding unit' (cooperation is evident) of this species requires at least a few hectares of a varied floral mosaic Euphorbia cuneataone composed of certain tussock-forming grasses (Sporobolus and Digitaria), together with widely scattered clumps of a drought-resistant sedge (Kylinga), straggling and stunted bushes of Euphorbia cuneata, a pink-flowering Morning Glory, and a scattering of deep-rooted plants bearing pencil length tubular cream or glaucous flowers; (whose name we currently know only in Ma'a: 'Engasuaki'); it is probably a species of Ipomoea or perhaps Astripoemea hyocyamoidese. To nest successfully sufficient and repeated rain showers are required; rains that will grow the grasses, and tempt a host of softer herbs to burst forth, out of the ochre soil.

Although this little lark might not need all of the above-mentioned plants in which to forage it seems to me that, like Prairie Dogs in the American west, Beesley's Maasai Larks rapidly gather into cover, often onto areas of distinctly raised and varied relief, when confronted with a large avian predator. Certainly whenever a quartering Male Montagus Harrier: photo Martin GoodeyPallid or Montagu's Harrier sweeps close-by, at which time the little larks, even when in a widely scattered group of up to seven birds. They cease their foraging and hastily converge on a favoured spot. Here they stand firm, quite erect, facing outwards until the dangerous predator has passed-by.

In addition to that spiky heel one can see that the Beesley's Lark sports a long and almost raffish bill. That long bill reveals that C.b requires a daily energy-rich supply of soil-dwelling invertebrates dug from its semi-arid home. It is also clear that they need those well-developed, yet closely-cropped, grass tussocks in which to forage especially during the long months of drought. Observations have shown that the vast majority of their foraging activity; and in dry times they must work very hard indeed for their daily grub - even through the searing midday hours; is concentrated in and around the base of these dry grass tussocks. As the photographs might suggest they spend a great deal of time examining minutely the depths of the clumps where despite demanding bouts of very vigorous poking and digging less that one attack in ten is successful in yielding an edible invertebrate.

When the rains began in March 2006 Beesley's Larks were the last of their ten -strong family to begin singing. This surely suggests that they need good rains in order to even consider breeding. Their song flight is by any definition a fairly constrained event. Unusually, for most larks sing well in the sun, these little larks sing best on those rare occasions when a strange cloying drizzle envelops the plain. Then they can be observed fluttering up to a height of only a few metres pouring forth a little churring trill; suggesting to my northern ears the evocative song of various small Calidris sandpipers as they display over their Arctic breeding grounds; before sailing back to earth's embrace on distinctly trembling wings - a performance that is rather like the parachute song flight of various pipits. Even in their expression of nuptial energy it's as if they can hardly bear to be separated from the all-nurturing soil upon whose crumbly surface they spend the vast majority of their lives.

I wrote much of the above account for Swara, the magazine of the East African Wildlife Society, here in Arusha on a lovely soaking day, in April 2006.

My study of this enchanting and beleagured little species continued somewhat erratically throughout 2006.

As described elsewhere on this website a pair bred 'successfully' (fledging their two young) in December of last year. With the El Nino rains of 2006/2007 the prospects for Beesley's Larks looked brighter than they had been for quite some time.

However the short rains, due to fall in the second half of 2007, have failed (since late May) to deliver delicious moisture to the plain. Certainly no breeding attempts have yet been made. Worse, my habituated group of Chersomanes beesleyi, seemingly occupying the very core of their species' range, became reduced to a single bird in October of this year. It was with very great relief therefore that, in late-November, we found a pair once again occupying this, what is probably the best remaining patch of varied tussocky land, a central fragment of most suitable habitat in a disappearing biotope: the sub-desert steppe of the Ang'yata Osugat.

Fischer's Sparrow and Short-tailed Larks remain only around the bushland of the periphery, a few score Red-capped Larks and a very few cloud-following Athi Short-toed Larks are also back in residence out there on the open plain. However they remain but wanderers, roving the land in tight little flocks, certainly they are in no mood for singing; in fact none of the passerine bird species shows any signs of being about to breed.

Why?

A combination of scant rainfall and ever increasing numbers of domestic stock which enter the arena daily in search of sustenance; an increase that has been in part propelled by well-meaning foreigners providing permanent water sources via deep-drilled bore holes in each of the surrounding villages.

Consequently the little close-cropped grass tussocks and the resilient desert herbs between, upon which the Beesley's Lark and many other birds depend, Monsonia spp.have been pulverized, eroded into the sepia-coloured dust, and at a quite astonishing rate.

Between the shrinking tussocks the interlinking grass stolons are unearthed by the daily trampling of ten thousand pointed hooves, so they break and blow away across the land upon the fiery desert breezes, nibbled strings, little stumps and fine shreds of grass, and withered yellow rhizomes, now litter the plain, like so many broken pieces of dessicated pasta.

Things are not looking at all good this year. Not for C. beesleyi, nor for any of their lark-like ilk. Even the more widespread and resilient arid-zone birds of Lark Plains, Grassland Pipit: photo Martin GoodeyChestnut-bellied Sandgrouse: photo Martin Goodeylike Chestnut-bellied Sandgrouse, Grassland Pipit, Capped Wheatear and Taita Fiscal are getting rarer by the week.

So should you want to come with me and find these last few Maasai aka Spike-heeled or even Beesley's Maasai Larks there's still time yet to arrange a meeting and to get their point of view.

But if they don't receive some serious rain and soon, you might need to get here sharpish, we'll almost certainly have to hurry, in order to add John Beesley's endearing little larks to yet another life list.

Contact me via the website or phone +255-784-596-209

Beesley's Maasai Lark

Foraging Maasai Larks: Zul

More from the lark plains:

Rise Up and Move On
Maasai aka Beesley's Lark - to breed and better
Mes amis - Amur
Short-toed Eagle at Osugat