Palaearctic migrant birds in East Africa

Full Moon, 11 March 2009.

"If you go down to the woods today ... you're in for a Big Surprise,
for every Bear that ever was there ... today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic"

Rift Valley woodlandsIn Rift Valley woodlands a bald and bearded birdman paces between leafless acacia thorn and shrubs of wilting yellow commiphora, walking a desert path.  At each step puffs of ochre dust escape on the dry easterly breeze. He's performing a birder's 'jongrom' (a Thai buddhist word, originally from Pali, which describes 'a measured path for walking meditation') and if you listen carefully you may hear a whispered mantra:

"Blessed be avian migrants meek, that they shall inherit this Earth"

A quarter century of globalisation of greed (or somewhat more, according to where you've been living) has ended, it's imploding and entering the void - just like that!

The rout of consumerism has now begun and it's running amok through the first quarter of this year. At long last domestic demand among comfortable folk in the 'developed' nations has collapsed, become paralysed. People worry and watch their shimmery screens for guidance. They wait, they stay at home, many dare not go out for fear of spending what money they have or have not got. The dark-suited leaders appear utterly clueless, of course they are. For they've only known how to suck the world, through so many trillion straws, dealing in virtuality, abetting the criminally insane in the hologram world; peddling double, treble, meddle debt.

So now the waiting game begins in earnest. And in the absence of collective human comprehension - of what lies ahead, of what might constitute leadership and of the ecological discipline which will be necessary in order to survive - the world continues on its way - inexorably, for it cannot wait, it warms.

Some very few of we, unfashionable naturalists, the deeply uncool, are also waiting. Though I suppose we're outside the loop, since we've seen a noose, so we're just hanging around.

Yep, this is the crisis we knew had to come. Having worried ourselves sick by a sense for nature's future; whilst others spent their Saturdays shopping, then laughed and partied late; we awaited nature's fury. For forty years in my case. So curiously it's almost comforting to sense the rush of panic now rattling the suburbs of the sedentary. Suburbs that remain heedless as yet of the Big One.

If I might update the memo stuck on the office wall by Madam Secretary Hillary Clinton's husband midway through the campaign of 1992:

"It's the climate, stupid!"

Boy with Donkey: photo Martin Goodey

What a way to go.

Collapse and then the Great Submergence, humanity's chaotic dissolution in an acidic ocean soup.

This birder has been entranced by weather forecasts (specifically the UK Met. Office's shipping forecast) since his 60s childhood. Currently he's living through a dry year in tropical east Africa, northern Tanzania.  Here we're sweltering in record temperatures; the entire landscape has begun to wilt. Crops fail.  Water, already in short supply, is everywhere running dry. Life turns to dust. Few tourists come. Poaching starts to steal into the national parks by night. And for the most part we too stay around home. As always watching the skies and waiting for those beloved birds. Waiting by the equator, in old East Africa, for the life-restoring rains of April; apprehensively tracking any wandering thunder storm of March. 

As a migratory birder, or as a migrant-bird watcher, I follow the first few showers of the Long Rains with extra special care. And rejoice, yes in Africa one still can dance, bailing-out rain water not banker's billions, in each exceptional shower.

Throughout my adult life I've schemed and plotted to place myself on bird migration fly-ways whenever that was possible. Not being a driver I wander mostly on foot; quietly walking here and there. Scanning the heavens and nowadays the drought-ravaged thorn bush hereabouts.  Observing birds and wondering. Making the connections.

At this time of the year - the Boreal Equinox or northern spring - most, if not all, northern nation birders eagerly anticipate the waves of insectivorous migrants which are cascading toward them.  I'm in the southern hemisphere beside Mount Meru, which looms above Arusha town, yet this is a significant location within the annual pre-nuptial African avian exodus. Migrants pass through daily. Each wave of migrant birds is of a subtly and beautifully different composition. Each one an insight into traveling communities of birds. 

Here in East Africa both birds and man are in this drought together, we're struggling in a very real sense. Individually and collectively with all our little strategies, each bird each human, we're gambling, today and with an unknown future.  

Dust: photo Martin GoodeyUnlike most human gamblers birds are extremely diverse. Each bird taxon has different ecological requirements. Each migrant reveals subtly different survival strategies when intercepted on the fly way. And of course each has a different destination for this their most urgent migration. Examined as a whole, the fortunes of these migrants expose not only the capricious nature of East Africa's rainy seasons, but also hint at global environmental trends, otherwise obscured by our rapidly warming global climate. You know, the one that eventually will engulf us all.

Some of the species moving north through Tanzania in early March are at the southern edge of their typical 'wintering' range.  When we see them it is likely that they have not travelled far from what was until recently their ultimate (or southernmost) 'winter' destination in Africa. Other migrants by contrast are 'coming-up' from final destinations in the far southern cape of the African continent  - itself a fragment of the old southern super continent Pangaea - where it seems ancestors of our passerine song birds first evolved.

So the present period is one of marked transition - the ides of March! It marks the departure, or end of passage, for many migrant passerine populations bound for the latitude of "the Near and Middle East": south-west asian Barn Swallows, most of 'our' European or Rufous-tailed Rock Thrushes, and nearly all the Iranias (aka White-throated Robins), Rufous Bush Robins (aka Rufous-tailed Scrub-Robins) and Pied and Isabelline Wheatears. Whilst the Blackcaps,  heading for cool mountain groves in the Caucasus and the Alborz of Iran vacated the woodlands of Tanzania's northern mountains during the last few days of February.

Early March is the beginning of the northbound passage for populations of many Central Asian birds e.g. Upcher's and Eastern Olivaceous Warblers, Barred Warblers, Rufous (aka Common) Nightingales, Spotted Flycatchers, Yellow Wagtails and Turkestan Shrikes - the latter being to my eyes easily the loveliest (qv. Anabel Harries' photograph of one - below) of the Rufous-tailed or Red-tailed Shrike 'complex'.

Thankfully even in drought there remains across northern Tanzania a wealth of excellent spots in which to observe bird migration.  This past week-end (March 7 & 8) our family was at one of them  - at Ol Mesera tented camp.

Ol Mesera is located, very conveniently, only two hours drive from Arusha, near Lake Manyara in the Great Rift Valley, it's just off the Ngorongoro and Serengeti road some 12 km north of Mto wa Mbu. It's run by a gentle Slovenian woman called Barbara and it is quite exceptional value for money.

Here are some thoughts about the 'Palaearctic' migrant passerines, and some raptors from that week-end, and musings about some other birds which we've seen along the way.

Montagus Harrier: photo Anabel HarriesMontagu's Harrier - only two (one adult male, one adult female) during the 24 hour visit. This species has become significantly less frequent during my five years around Arusha-Moshi. There are indications however that they are increasingly utilising areas farther to the west. One should assume that the recent spread of wheat agribusiness (undertaken or funded by western european cereal producers and their agencies - largely through the EU's supremely destructive Common Agricultural Policy) across Poland and Hungary has destroyed many fine breeding areas. Increased mechanisation is doubtless destroying many broods throughout their range. The recent creation and rapid, ongoing expansion of huge foreign-owned cereal production bases into the middle Sudan (and elsewhere across sub-Saharan Africa) obviously will increase the difficulties faced by this species during the non-breeding season; as it will for many Palaearctic migrants. As Wouter Faveyts has pointed out the pictured bird is in fact a 2cy male Pallid Harrier.

Steppe Buzzard: photo Martin GoodeySteppe Buzzard - only a few seen nowadays; most adults went through northwards in February. The Rift Valley western wall just above Mto wa Mbu is an excellent area for watching this species on both migrations. Interestingly there was an immature in my garden this morning (10/3) much to the annoyance of the Hadeda Ibis breeding in our Grevillea hedge.

Lesser Spotted Eagle - one adult; mercifully (unusually) this individual appeared to be in good feather condition; it must have roosted at Ol Mesera and rose leisurely at ca 0845; circling to a great height before departing northwards. It would have been very hard-pushed to find any frogs across northern Tanzania, even in the vicinity of this camp.

Eurasian Kestrel - two only; March is the best month for seeing numbers of nominate Falco t. tinnunculus in Northern Tanzania. Lark Plains is a great area in which to observe their foraging behaviour and we have noticed that there is hardly any interaction between Falco t. tinnunculus and the two pairs of the remarkably scarce resident taxon here: Falco (t.) rufescens increasingly known as African Mountain Kestrel; of which only about six pairs breed around the drier north-western edge of Mount Meru.

Eurasian Hobby - one at Ol Mesera; no doubt as a result of the scarcity of rain, of hirundines and termite hatches, there have been very few 'up north' since early in the New Year.

Peregrine Falcon - one large bird hacking north across the road at Mto wa Mbu, appeared to be of the Siberian form Falco peregrinus calidus ; a scarce migrant to East Africa nowadays

European Roller: photo Martin GoodeyEuropean Roller - a total of only five. Rollers of all species are becoming scarcer in EA. This is probably largely a consequence of increased exposure to toxins used in agribusiness. Firstly, side-effects from veterinary pharmaceuticals applied to cattle; this results in a lack of food through a general, yet unintended, reduction in dung beetle populations. One side-effect of chemicals that remove internal parasites is that it renders the dung poisonous to an extensive 'dung fauna'. Secondly, the deliberate spraying of orthopterans (especially locusts) with potent insecticides. 

Another factor impacting resident species is the preferential removal of dead trees from the landscape for charcoal and fuel wood. The completely 'conservation-dependant' safari industry is also guilty here; for large acacia logs not only make lovely hot water but also those ever so romantic camp-fires out in the heart of the African bush. Invariably old and dying timber is cut down first. This clearly deprives many bird species (woodpeckers) of crucial foraging sites and hence food and deprives rollers and other birds of their cavity breeding sites in many important areas; as they need partially hollow tall trees, "venerable trees", in which to nest.

Barn Swallow: photo Martin GoodeyBarn Swallow - only about 55 in total this week-end; the majority were seen associating with a large herd of Maasai cattle on the black cotton-soil pastures at Ol Mesera. Their close feeding association with traditional domestic stock whilst on migration (this has been noted again and again), and especially with free-ranging Maasai cattle producing dung of low toxicity, surely points to this being an ancient relationship, perhaps forged in the erstwhile "Green Sahara" during those 'good old pluvial days' when ('western/african') cattle were first brought into domestication. Migrant 'flocks' comprised of only two or three birds, admittedly they were in fine breeding condition (shot satin with long tail streamers) were seen in a very few places along the route Arusha - Mto wa Mbu.

Common House Martin - the first returning migrants arrive early around Mount Meru, occasionally by late September, yet they are not widespread until November. Through much of the northern winter most remain in 'a poor condition' (bleached and brown, worn and ragged flight feathers) although by late February some crisp black and white individuals begin to appear. They feed over forested areas almost exclusively above 1400m. They assemble over our garden, seemingly whilst commuting between roost sites on Mount Meru's cliffs and foraging areas above Monduli forest, each morning and evening, and in almost every shower.

Yellow Wagtail: photo Martin GoodeyYellow Wagtail - phylogenetically .. Motacilla f. lutea - well, there's been none at all recently; no water, no splashy meadows nor sleek contented cows; we hope the golden ones are all abroad; somewhere in the west near the great Lake Nyanza (aka Victoria).

Tree Pipit - small numbers continue to haunt the dry fallow fields on the middle slopes around Mount Meru (from 1200m upwards); none were seen in the Rift Valley.

Isabelline Wheatear: photo Martin GoodeyIsabelline Wheatear: photo Martin GoodeyIsabelline Wheatear - they've nearly all gone north now. This is a very common 'winter visitor' to the degraded steppe zone all around Mount Meru (below ca 1400m). It seems to me that this species 'has it sussed'. Being a lover of over-grazed steppe and desertic places, of scorched earth, of heat and dust, it's one of that group of beautiful chats, with a euphemistically-altered english name (corrupted by the Normans from perfectly acceptable anglo-saxon) referring to their very conspicuous white backsides. That this bird should bear the qualifier 'isabelline', which is derived from the subtle hue of unchanged 'latina' underwear, makes it even more apt that we should consider it a prime candidate for a Title : Old World "Bird of the Future".

Cattle Egrets: photo Martin GoodeyCattle Egret could have been a contender of course had they not (sometime just prior to 1930) crossed the Atlantic from Africa to Guyana, and were they not, outside of 'big game' parks, so dependent upon there being a future for herds of healthy (i.e. unpampered, unpolluted, if not organic) domestic stock and for big invertebrates like grasshoppers which, all things considered, might perhaps themselves be on the "large and unwanted list"!

Pied Wheatear - in contrast to Isabella's this Wheatear is supremely well-dressed. It is quite a local bird in northern Tanzania. It prefers mature acacia-commiphora scrub woodland on light red or yellow soils. Areas which retain large thorn trees and also support a robust population of large, preferably wild, ungulates are particularly favoured. They arrive in mid-November and most adult males, in immaculate plumage, have departed by the end of February. Stragglers remain into April but these are usually +/- tail-less individuals.

Wheatear: photo Martin GoodeyNorthern Wheatear - overall 2008-2009 has been a poor season for Canada's Northern Wheatear here. Their preferred 'wintering' habitat,  a close-cropped yet green sward (i.e. extensive lawns at moderate elevation maintained by cattle and sheep), has all but disappeared into the dust of this year's drought. Even in the safari zones (the gnu-ing fields of the so-called National Parks) the capricious nature of the rainfall following-on from the largely failed short rains of November 2008 has meant that many formerly suitable non-breeding ranges have been in a poor condition almost throughout the season. One wonders how the few will fare who make it back to the Mackenzie delta.

Thrush Nightingale - none definitely heard at Ol Mesera. Yet this is an interesting and widespread migrant. The bulk of the 'Sprossers' (prosser is an archaic C18 word for someone given to composing prose; whilst in German sprosser has similarities to the word sprout in English) winter south of the equator and south of the latitude of Arusha (3 degrees south). In 'wet years' they are fairly frequent wherever there is woodland with a well developed scrubby understory; and even in overgrown plots and gardens, such as ours, in which there are extensive brakes of the reviled yet undeniably bird-friendly bramble-like neotropical exotic Lantana camara.

In each of the past three years in our peri-urban garden (on the dry western edge of Arusha town) one or two Sprossers arrive typically in mid to late November and occupy a small territory (between a half and one acre in extent) for about three to five weeks before presumably moving on further south. Thrush Nightingale: photo Anabel HarriesThereafter it is remarkable that from around Christmas until the end of January, or a little later, Common (or Rufous) Nightingales take-up residence for a month or so. They hold territory in exactly the same scrub patch that the Sprossers have just vacated. Sometime during February Sprossers may reappear though whether these individuals evict the Luscinia megarhynchos is unclear. The bird (pictured left by Anabel Harries) appears to be an Eastern Rufous Nightingale (probably L. m. hafizi) although it was originally identified as L. luscinia.

Both species announce their occupancy of a non-breeding 'sequential territory' by some daily song. This somewhat unformulated rehearsal song, (i.e. non-crystallised song or sub-song), is most evident after rain, especially on those infrequent cooler mornings following an overnight shower. Or when there is a substantial dew around ground level, at which times feeding activity (foraging effort) is guaranteed to be most productive. Certainly in dry times, such as we are experiencing now, the Sprosser's daily song is quieter, more subdued, and of shorter duration. As is the case with some of our resident chats there is a close correlation, seemingly based on atmospheric humidity, between their activity and that of red driver ants and harvester termites.

Common (Rufous) Nightingale - only one was heard, quietly singing, along the principal ecotone (i.e. the forest-savanna boundary) at Ol Mesera camp. The bulk of the two eastern forms of Nightingale (i.e. L. m. hafizi and L.m. africana) winter to the east and or north of the latitude of Arusha (see above). Along the Kikuletwa river, south-east of Maji Moto on March 1, and in other similar areas (e.g. in the understory of Yellow-barked Acacia woodland) around TPC- Sugar Estate near Moshi during late December 2008 all the nightingales which we heard sounded as if they were this species.

Irania (White-throated Robin) - only one female was seen at Ol Mesera. We suspect many of the males which were holding territories there in December have already departed northwards. Conditions here being unsuitable, that is too dry, to support them nowadays The White-throated Robin selects rather more moist areas than e.g. Common Nightingale yet frequently occurs in bushy areas with fewer large trees. It seems to me to be commonest where there is a 'scattered scones mosaic' of well-spaced, mature semi-arboreal thickets each laced with entwining creepers and flowering vines. Apparently they have been more widespread, or more conspicuous, than usual this past season in the northern Maasai steppe (Marc Baker verbally), that is in the plateau which constitutes, physiographically, the central core of Tanzania.

Rufous-tailed Scrub-Robin - aka Rufous Bush-Robin - only one individual, in 'crisp-edged', fully completed moult, was seen. I watched it for about ten minutes perched in the open in the crown of an 'autumnal' Acacia mellifera, thanks once again to the excellent ground work of Pi the Breton Spaniel. This is a scarce and local wintering species in Tanzania being virtually confined to the arid north-eastern edge of the country. Whilst not a complete surprise it was exciting that one was found at Ol Mesera well to the west and south of the normal range.

Rufous-tailed Rock Thrush - none were seen. There were several around Lark Plains during February.

Olivaceous Warbler: photo Martin GoodeyEastern Olivaceous Warbler - this remains a common winter visitor. At least twenty-five birds in the Ol Mesera area this past week-end. They are easily located by the quite hard "teck" positioning call, endlessly repeated and several were singing.

Upcher's Warbler - this lovely cool grey, dark tail-wagging warbler is so much scarcer than EOW (above). Nevertheless this is a widespread and fairly common species at least in good quality dry bush-land throughout northern and probably also central Tanzania.
Seven at Ol Mesera was a 'good number'. At least four birds were singing, energetically and almost continuously, whilst foraging around the camp on Sunday morning; a really sweet and quite varied, very Sylvia-like rambling medley, quite unlike that of their spiky Acrocephalus p. elaica kinsfolk.

Olive-tree Warbler - so far as I can tell this bird is a remarkably scarce migrant (and possibly a very local wintering bird) in northern Tanzania. On Sunday February 22 I was treated to brief but excellent views of what is, for me, a fabled species in our Arusha garden. It was discovered from this very desk! I was amazed at how in jizz it suggested immature Barred Warbler, at least when the crown feathers were depressed, (yet bereft of any paler covert fringes or dark 'chevrons' on the underparts) much more than any Acrocephalus (formerly Hippolais). The Dan Zatterstrom illustration of a first calendar year in the Collins (European) Bird Guide together with Hugh Harrop's pictures of the 2006 Boddam, Shetland bird (on the Birdguides website) utterly clinched it for me. Interestingly we had heard it calling around the garden a few times during the previous day, and earlier that morning, a soft, rather hoarse and guttural scolding rattle somehow akin to yet much deeper and gruffer than the anxiety calls of Blue Tit (see the Collins Guide).

Icterine Warbler: photo Martin GoodeyIcterine Warbler: photo Martin GoodeyIcterine Warbler - a western wintering species in Tanzania; one which clearly prefers well developed, yet not dense, broad-leaved woodland, including olives (Olea spp.) on gentle slopes at moderate elevations. The best place to see it is in the open compound of Klein's Camp at the north-eastern corner of the Serengeti National Park (managed by the erstwhile CCA - now rebranded as "& Beyond"!)

Barred Warbler: photo Martin GoodeyCommon Whitethroat: photo Anabel HarriesBarred Warbler - a bird of lightly wooded acacia bush especially that supporting Salvadora persica tangles and other loose fruiting shrubs; it is perhaps more widespread in Tanzania this dry year. At least five were at Ol Mesera last week-end.

Common Whitethroat - the wintering form here (see Anabel's photograph) is Sylvia c. icterops. It has been noticeably scarce throughout this season. I have only seen about ten birds since the start of this year 2009. This species was similarly very scarce, and appeared in unexpected places during the dry 'northern winter' of 2005-2006.

Male Blackcap: photo Martin GoodeyFemale Blackcap: photo Martin GoodeyBlackcap - most Blackcaps winter well to the north of Tanzania. Nevertheless this species, represented by Sylvia a. dammholzi, is common here at higher elevations, especially in evergreen woodland and old gardens wherever fruiting bushes and creepers thrive They (as in Martin's photos above) are present around Mount Meru between late October and the end of February. Up to 25 were in our garden feeding chiefly on Lantana camara berries. During January and early February the near-constant rehearsal of unformulated blackcap song from the overgrown boundary hedges around this plot was a great joy indeed. One tardy straggler which remained into March had lost some tail feathers, probably in a close encounter with some predator - possibly a Slender Mongoose who enjoys watching the migrants as much as I do.

Garden Warbler - most S. borin winter in Africa to the south and west of the latitude of Arusha. Nevertheless it is a common passage migrant throughout northern Tanzania, from early October when I see my first birds of the return e.g. a very tired (fat-depleted) bird in the migrant grove at Ndutu Safari Lodge on October 15, 2008.  Small numbers are present in the northern mountain forests and orchards, including those of the Usambaras, throughout the 'winter' season until late in April.

Phylloscopus t. yakutensis: photo Martin GoodeyWillow Warbler - none at Ol Mesera; presumably because of the drought which has caused a conspicuous reduction in leaf-production by the mature acacias. Consequently this has been the worst season in six for finding Willow Warblers in northern Tanzania. I doubt that I have seen more than twenty different birds in five months. However there was an undoubted candidate for Phylloscopus t. yakutensis in the garden in mid-December (see Martin Goodey's photograph); most of the birds we see here are of the acredula-type with only an occasional greener and yellower nominate-looking bird. P.t. yakutensis typically winters to the east and south of us.

Wood Warbler - a Tanzanian rarity; a single bird was found feeding in the canopy of old and overgrown Jacarandas on the hill directly above Maweni Farm, Soni in the West Usambaras on January 12.

Chiffchaff: photo Martin GoodeyChiffchaff - from January 2006 until at least February 2007 the form P. collybita abietinus was a common winter visitor (previously overlooked) to Mount Meru above ca 1800m. Since then their favoured habitat of old exotic cypressus plantations has been removed. Felled to supply firewood to maintain an even supply of electricity from generators which power the spinning machines at the USAID-funded Sumitomo 'let's roll-back malaria' Olysetnet mosquito-net factory in Kisongo.

Spotted Flycatcher - small numbers occur on passage from early October. They (chiefly M.s. neumanni) become a common and widespread winter visitor - at least in moister well timbered areas - throughout Tanzania from mid November. Spotted Flycatcher: photo Martin GoodeyAll birds present at Ol Mesera (ca 15 individuals) in early March were at an early stage of extensive moult in both body and flight feathers. They exhibited many worn and brownish flight feathers among partially grown new ones and rather pitiful fluffy heads and necks. I suspect moult is being partially suspended in response to 'protein insecurity' (i.e. a scarcity of 'softer-bodied' flies) as  a result of this drought. The one bird wintering in the vicinity of our small garden (photographed here) has surely returned for a second year, since it behaves in exactly the same manner as one did last year, returning to forage after sunset prior to roosting each night in a large bush beside our kitchen window.

Red-backed Shrike - most winter far to the south of Tanzania, at the southern terminus of the ITCZ, reaching southern Africa by way of a western i.e. Albertine Rift valley route. By performing a classic example of loop migration this species is very common in eastern Tanzania during early April when passing northwards. Very small numbers winter in mature bush-land at the latitude of Arusha, and rather more in the Northern Rift in the moister vegetation communities in the vicinity of lakes and along river valleys. There were three birds, seemingly over-wintering, at Ol Mesera in December and all were still there in March. Two males have apparently returned to winter for a second season along a korongo (wadi) in a rather arid area on the southern edge of Lark Plains; of course last year it was much more verdant there. In the vicinity of tourist camps and lodges vegetation typically is less disturbed by large herbivores especially ungulates, including domestic cattle, and the number and density of palatable plant species correspondingly is much greater, in turn supporting a more diverse insect community. Hence these areas are better for many species of migrant bird than is the surrounding more open-structured savanna.

Turkestan Shrike: photo Anabel HarriesTurkestan Shrike - Lanius phoenicuroides - most individuals of this species winter in Africa; from the Somali Horn south into Tanzania, chiefly in the area north and east from Mount Meru. In parched seasons however, such as we are experiencing this year, L. phoenicuroides becomes much commoner around Arusha and westward into the northern Rift; no doubt because individuals are obliged to press south and west by the absence of large diurnal invertebrates (caused by the conflagration of drought conditions and accelerating anthropogenic habitat degradation) across the border in Kenya.

ITCZ - Our Water or Your Life!

In Moshi town, 100 km eastwards from where we live in Arusha, a larger than life statue of a Tanzanian soldier clad in green fatigues guards a plinth in the middle of a roundabout. His head held high above the diesel-stench of the Dar - Nairobi traffic, chin raised seemingly in defiance, he points a giant AK47 toward the equator, toward Tanzania's northern border. Beneath him the Kiswahili phrase "Maji ni Uhai" is etched in big blue letters on a white background:  "Water is Life"

Most Tanzanians don't hear much about the unfolding Great Recession; almost nothing about peak oil, banking systems nor any market jargon currently buzzing around deleveraging rich-world minds. However they certainly do know that " Maji ni Uhai"; and most still know how to cultivate their mahindi maize (Indian or sweet corn to some). Subsistence farming provides their staples: maize and beans. They make a stiff porridge from the maize (mahindi corn ground into sembe flour boiled into ugali porridge) and beans provide the source of protein. In some years there is good rain. Abundant water for the fields. There will be two rainy seasons: one long, one short. And if there are two wet seasons there will be two maize harvests. In other years there is only one wet season (during April-May) consequently there is insufficient soil moisture for a second harvest after Christmas. This past year was a single harvest year. A hard year.

Gaia with ITCZ clouds over AfricaIn the tropics and especially in tropical Africa, between the trade wind belts on either side of the thermal equator, exists a migratory rain-band that creates the twin wet seasons. It has an ugly duckling meteorological name - the Inter-Tropical Convergence Zone; habitually abbreviated to the "I-Tee-Cee-Zed (or Zee?)". This mzungu (Kiswahili for a Caucasian/European) has realised over the past year that, whilst he is not yet dependent upon the maize crop, reverence for the rain-bearer ITCZ is absolutely essential.

"Blessed be avian migrants meek, that they shall inherit this Earth"
A mantra enunciated each day, with ever greater urgency.

Evidently the rains of the Inter-Tropical Convergence Zone are the most important determinant of terrestrial vegetation around Earth's waist. The huge disjunct bands of life-giving rain storms move poleward, and then back again in summer, tracking the apparent zenith of the sun. They traverse the tropics of both southern and northern hemispheres. Associated with the rain belt is an unimaginable mass movement of flying beings, primarily of insects and birds.  Countless billions of creatures evacuating areas of increasing aridity, of environmental impoverishment, of food insecurity; moving to areas, nearer to or beyond the equator as these once again become moist, productive, rich.

I believe it is within this intra-african seasonal flow back and forth that we ornithologists should search for many of the antecedents of the great south-north migrational flights which have undoubtedly so impressed Europeans since we first 'arrived', and started what we did, out there in Europe - near to the poles - where the ITCZ does not visit. And perhaps it will be here, in inter-tropical Africa, out on the least integrated limb of an economically-interdependent humanity, that a healthier version of our song will be composed. One hopes in time. In the not too distant future.

During a time when ecological systems are deteriorating rapidly (more rapidly than we as, the 'most sophisticated' of all the species, have ever known) migration - the capacity to travel back and forth with the seasons, may play a pivotal role in survival. Surely that is reason enough to watch it; to follow these movement of others? By searching for and finding, by carefully observing migrant birds, mammals and insects we gain insight into the great wonders of Nature, of evolution in its constant waves and motion. And whilst engaged in our study of migration, especially of birds, along their seasonal streaming flyways spanning the entire globe, we may chance upon some revelation.

So we are rewarded, come what may, for our efforts. Rewarded amply and immediately. For example the elation which follows the discovery of an unexpected migrant bird, of a major regional rarity, or better - of an 'accidental' vagrant is perhaps unbeatable.  Except by the rapture of being in a 'big vis-mig'. That is the privilege of being able to loose oneself within the great migration stream.

In hindsight, after lengthy consideration, I think the visible migration experience is why I have remained a bird-watcher through these past fifty years. Even when pressure to hang-up my bins became almost intolerable. Those times when, for the sake of some perceived emotional or economic security, I should have ditched the field guide, grabbed the ladder and clambered aboard Titanic. Yet time and again a little knurled black wheel re-focussed my attention. It redirected my sight to the feathered throng above us, to the hyaline swarms of hover-flies and dragonflies, the migratory grasshoppers and to the quiver of migrant butterflies and moths flying around me at eye level or circling the lights at night.

And of late this black wheel directed my sight to the greatest spectacle of all the game; to the grunting, groaning, thundering mammal masses, stretching across the Serengeti plain. The essence of the safari experience; a phenomenon which ensures that Tanzania in East Africa remains utterly unique.

East Africa. Yes that's Africa - the outsiders; so far behind the pack. The land where man and nature co-evolved and where many remain, if not still one, then a lot less alienated from one another. For humanity here is typically healthier of heart than in the toxic lands beyond where greed creates both the latest and the greatest chaos. Affluent lands where far too many have become oblivious to our need for nature, to the love of life itself. Oblivious to the one commandment that we must respect Nature. Respect this planet of ocean, air and land, within which we're perching so very precariously. For respect begets survival. And by God it's long overdue.

Mindfulness is the path to the Deathless
Heedlessness is the path to Death
The mindful do not die
But the heedless are as if dead already.

Dhammapada 21

Irania: photo Steve Rooke

Some lovely pix from Steve Rooke, of Sunbird wildlife holidays; views of the 'spiritually-uplifting' breeding habitat of some of 'our' Central Asian breeding passerines where such as Irania (male pictured), Barred Warbler, eastern Rufous Nightingale, Turkestan Shrike et al. may yet be found in numbers.

Samarkand: a hawthorn dotted valley in the foothills of the Pamirs