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One bird I’ve always wanted to see is the Cut-throat Finch. These birds are quite uncommon, they are a dry season bird in The Gambia moving to the south of their range at this time.
Their plumage has always fascinated me and they have been on my wish list for some time. So when I was looking at some Bee-eaters flying back and fore their nests in a small earthen bank and Mas shouted – ‘Steve, Cut-throat Finches’ I couldn’t get there quick enough, thankfully they stayed for a minute for me to get a few shots.

Males and Females in a small flock.


You can see how they got their name!


This was a totally unexpected surprise and made my day!

It’s not every day you come across an African Fish Eagle. However, cruising up these Gambian rivers in a small manoeuvrable boat presents unexpected photo opportunities. In my experience the bigger the bird the more spooky they are and I was terrified this magnificent bird would fly off.
We must have been within its comfort zone because it tolerated our little boat with strange people pointed things in its direction. We quietly inched nearer until I could get a shot and Susan could get good binocular views.
Lovely experience to see these superb birds up so close.

White-throated Bee-eaters seen from the small boat we were in on the River Gambia. The only time we saw them as they perched high up in the trees, these are graceful birds with a far carrying ‘Pruuee’’call and they are the only Bee-eater with a black crown.

The Exclamatory Paradise Whydah (phew that’s a mouthful) is a spectacular bird of the open Savannah. The males have incredible tails, their bodies are only 12.5cms but their tails are 27.5cms. The males rise high up in to the air and then descend waving their tales to display to the females. They are very shy birds perching high up in tall trees and it takes some effort to even get a shot.

It’s worth it though to record these amazing birds.

Senegal Thick-knee is an extremely common bird in The Gambia it commonly frequents river banks, ponds and shorelines in general. The Spotted Thick-knee is different, it is a bigger bird which inhabits open woodland areas and is more difficult to find. Our guide Mas knew an area which he had checked out previously and there were about half a dozen of these lovely birds there.
We had to walk a few hundred yards into their typical habitat and finally we saw them, however, they were very spooky and didn’t like any approach at all, but after some effort and patience I managed to line up a couple of birds for a photograph, it wasn’t easy, but really worth the effort.
Beautiful birds!

The Western Bluebill is a difficult bird to see, it’s unobtrusive, skulking around, undetected by most. Seeing them is a real bonus and you can easily spend all your time in the Gambia without encountering them. They are at the northern edge of their range here so they are not common at all and they are very difficult to get out in the open.
There was an old hide/shed in an isolated wood outside a small village that had been built by some people from Holland quite some time ago. They also dug a pond out and lined it with concrete. No one goes there anymore and the locals certainly have no interest in it, but we visited it one afternoon.
This is a special place and the birdlife coming to visit there is something else, in the main flycatchers –but that’s for another blog.
As the afternoon wore on, to our surprise and delight we had a female Western Bluebill bathing in the pond right in front of us, what a find!


You can tell she's a female by the dense spotting on her belly.

However, after she left things got even better a gorgeous male bird came in and landed right in front of the hide.



Usually you only get, if any, a brief view of these difficult birds.
To have these lovely birds in this situation was special!

With reference to the old hide/shed in the woods and flycatchers in the previous Western Bluebill blog post. This is the best place that I have been to where African Paradise and Red-bellied Paradise Flycatchers can be seen. These are quite small flycatchers with long tails that can be seen in the forests of The Gambia. Usually they are seen flitting from branch to branch very quickly and it is difficult to get prolonged views of them.
However, things are different here, they perch ridiculously closely to the hide and with great regularity. They can come as close as six feet with total confidence which is unprecedented in my experience.
There is a well-established and accepted hybridization between the species and this can be seen in various individuals at this site.
It’s quite a spectacle and worth spending an hour or two here observing these beautiful little birds.


Male African Paradise Flycatcher


Male Red-bellied Paradise Flycatcher


Female Red-bellied Paradise Flycatcher


Male Red-bellied Paradise Flycatcher (Short tail)


Looks like a hybridization candidate.

It's not very often you get close to these magnificent birds so you have to take the opportunities when they're presented. The boatman cut the engines as we drifted past this beautiful bird. I expected it to fly but thankfully it stayed put. I increased the shutter speed to counteract the boat's motion and hoped for the best.

African Pygmy Kingfisher is the smallest kingfisher on the continent, measuring just 12cms in total. It is easy to miss these diminutive birds because they don’t associate with water, they inhabit dry forest edges and light woodland feeding on insects typically, therefore they can be found almost anywhere. They do, however, come to water to bathe and drink and that is when you can see them. They have a quiet ‘Vsst’ call and that is what gives their presence away.
Photographing them is far from easy though, you have to wait until they dive into water, which is so quick you can barely detect it, it’s in and out in a split second. Then you have to try and see what branch they have perched on, it’s usually the one they have dived from but that’s not much help if you haven’t seen them in the first place.
The people who own the lodges we stay in have a one acre private walled garden about a hundred yards away down the track, within which they have planted endangered native trees and also therein is a well where one of the gardeners, a lovely guy named Alfa, draws water and fills up a small pond daily. He also fills up the numerous pots around the garden, encouraging birds to come and drink in the afternoon on a hot day.
When time allows we visit there in the late afternoon to see what’s coming in to drink and bathe. There are three palm covered seating areas with cushions where you can sit quietly. It’s a lovely peaceful place and we have seen an impressive panoply of bird species on our visits.
We were sat there one afternoon and something splashed into the pond in front of us and it was so quick we couldn’t identify what it was. We kept watching and it happened again and this time I managed to follow the ‘blur’ back into a small tree about ten feet away. We could now see it was a Pygmy Kingfisher and then we could hear the distinctive little call.
This happened three or four times and finally I was able to photograph an adult male bird out in the open. I had to use a little diffused flash because it was very dark under the tree it was perched in.

What a gorgeous little jewel he was!

When walking through the Savannah it’s very important to avoid standing in one spot for any length of time, especially where livestock are present because in this hot and dry environment Ticks are prevalent. These horrible parasitic arachnids attach themselves to these animals and embed into their skin, especially where skin folds or overlaps or around the eyes. They then drink the blood of these animals and sometime infect them with very nasty diseases.
They will readily do the same to humans given the chance, and if the Tick is carrying ‘Lymes’ disease e.g. unless treated quickly there can be very serious life changing consequences. Wearing good quality socks and tucking your trousers into them is fundamental.
Livestock cannot remove these Ticks themselves and as a result they can become really distressed if a Tick is near their eye or in their inner ear. This is where nature has provided a solution in the form of the Yellow-billed Oxpecker, these birds remove Ticks from animals all day long and are tolerated around ears, eyes and udders etc. because the animals know they are being helped.



If the birds are disturbed by someone they just fly up into the air, circle around and come back down to the same animal to resume their Tick removal.

Rose-ringed Parakeets fly around in small parties, they are noisy, comical and very attractive. They are quite shy and are easily spooked but when they are up in at tree they feel safe and you can approach them.

Then you can see how attractive they are!

No visit to this part of the world would be complete without seeing Ospreys. These magnificent birds winter in the Gambia and Senegal in numbers and cruising up the river which borders these two countries will produce numerous sightings, however, most sightings are in flight as the birds fly away after spotting a boat coming.
These birds are very nervous and nearly always fly away at the sight of people. There are some times though when this is not the case and this is when the birds have caught a big fish and are tired after the effort of catching and flying with it. This is when you have a chance to approach nearer, but care is still needed because you must not spook the bird and spoil its feeding.
I managed a few shots when this happened and it shows what lovely birds they are!

The Oriole Warbler is a large colourful warbler with a very loud and impressive song but nevertheless it’s an extremely difficult bird to pin down. We had been cruising along the Mangrove creeks off the River Gambia in a small boat with an old and very experienced boatman at the helm. As we meandered these backwaters we saw many birds, but the Oriole Warbler frustratingly kept under cover. Coming to the end of our last creek we could see one of these elusive birds flitting around some dense vegetation and Mas who has the eyes of a Snake Eagle pointed one out. ‘It’s coming out’ he whispered and sure enough one appeared for about ten seconds out in the open, but it’s still not easy, you have to acquire focus, get the correct exposure and fire the shutter in this short time.
However, I managed a few frames of this very elusive bird after many previously failed attempts - to say I was pleased was an understatement!

The Turacos, both Violet and Green are very secretive birds, particularly the Green Turaco. These birds live right up in the gallery forest area eating fruit and only come down to drink infrequently from isolated watering holes. If drinking pots are provided though and a great deal of patience is employed then with luck a fortunate photographer can be rewarded with a brief and it usually is only a very brief view.
One early afternoon we had been walking in the forest with Mas the guide we always use and we had seen some very nice birds. These forests are really prehistoric looking with great long dangling vines hanging from huge old hardwood trees and termite mounds ten feet high dotted throughout. Exotic sounding bird calls abound and echo through the canopies making it a very special place indeed to walk through.
We had arrived back to our starting point to have a rest and cool down with a drink and we were just sat there when Mas whispered ‘Green Turaco on the drinking pots’ I couldn’t believe it, what a stroke of luck, these birds are so elusive. Turacos always come in from the side walking along tree branches, they never just fly in, they are too wary.
I managed to fire off a few shots in what was quite challenging light and I was quite pleased with the results. Then it just disappeared, as quickly as it had arrived, back up into the gallery.



What a bird!

Susan and I have just returned from a three week birding trip to West Africa. It was just the two of us with our guide, expert Gambian birder Massaneh Sanyang - Mas for short. They don't come any better than him and without his expertise we wouldn't have seen half the birds we did.
It’s a bit of a temperature shock from there to here and at the moment we are freezing cold. However, over the next couple of weeks I’ll post some blogs with images from what was a superb wildlife trip.
My Canon R5 and Canon 100-500 zoom lens performed flawlessly, sometimes in very difficult circumstances.
As usual a full trip report will follow in due course in the New Year.

Grasshopper Buzzards as their name suggests feed mainly on grasshoppers, they do however, eat other small animals. They sit up in trees using their keen eyesight to spot prey before swooping down.
Driving along a road through the savannah we came across a fierce ‘Bush Fire’ and this is a sight to behold, the noise is incredibly loud, a frightening whooshing and crackling and the speed it spreads is unreal. If you are caught in the middle of one of these phenomena it can be very dangerous indeed. Being surrounded by these flames and smoke could lead to very serious consequences.
Birds like Kites and Rollers are attracted to these fires because they know the small animals will be forced to flee the flames and they just wait on the fire's edge to pick them off. A classic case of out of the frying pan into the fire for the grasshoppers etc.

https://youtu.be/UUTwF7FE1v8

Observing the flames we could see what we thought were small twigs and leaves being shot out of the fire, but when one landed on the steering wheel of our vehicle we could see they were grasshoppers, and big ones to, about three inches long.
A number of Yellow-billed Kites were picking them up off the road, but sat in the middle of the road was a Grasshopper Buzzard. I leaned out of the vehicle window and just about fitted it into the camera frame for a shot. You’d never get this close to these birds in normal circumstances – a golden opportunity!!

In The Gambia Klaas’s Cuckoo is a bird of the open Savanna and mixed woodland edges. It is a small bird about half the size of a Common Cuckoo. The species is resident in the south moving north with the rains.

The male is a bright metallic green.




The female has patchy light green areas but with a more overall bronze colour.



These female birds are rarely seen because of their less colourful plumage and unobtrusive nature. Klaas’s Cuckoos live a solitary existence out of the breeding season, so it was, therefore, a nice bonus to get this female while out walking looking for other things.

When driving through extensive semi-flooded wetlands marvelling at the breath-taking numbers of birds; Herons, Egrets and Ducks in their thousands. Seeing hundreds upon hundreds of African Jacanas or ‘Lilly Trotters’ as David Attenborough likes to call them, is a special experience. However, when Mas slams the brakes on and starts shouting ‘Steve camera – Quick’!! It’s time to shift into gear.
‘Over there’ he pointed into the silhouetted grassland ‘Black Coucal’ after a few seconds I could see a dark shape in the vegetation. I knew it was going to be difficult to get anything and I told him so; ‘Just get a record’ he said.
Senegal Coucal is a very common bird in The Gambia but Black Coucal is very much the opposite.
I took some sort of shot which was really badly silhouetted and showed him, but his enthusiasm didn’t wane.
He doesn't have the English vocabulory to express himself fully to me but I know he's pleased when he starts waving his arms in the air!
‘Super rare around here’ he said; 'Very uncommon Wet Season breeder’

Processing the image back home I began to salvage detail. Shooting in RAW is a massive bonus as I always maintain, and then running it through ‘Topaz’ Denoise software afterwards works wonders. He will be over the moon when I send him the image on ‘WhatsApp’ later today.

A CHRISTMAS GHOST STORY
BY STEVE WILCE
Some houses have a reputation - a certain aura that initiates stories about odd happenings in the past - rumours probably, but enough to start local gossip, and “Neuadd Fawr” deep in the heart of the Brecon Beacons was one such place. Uninhabited for a generation the old house stood isolated and decaying in its own grounds which were rapidly being reclaimed by nature. Its steep rooves and high gables presenting a melancholy façade to anybody who caught a glimpse of it through the bare winter foliage. The house could only really be reached down a poorly maintained and narrow country lane where ancient and overgrown blackthorn hedges formed a dark forbidding tunnel.
The last owner, Caradoc Llewelyn Jones, was something of a recluse and he had done nothing to dispel the local gossip that the house was haunted. In fact, if the truth was known he actively encouraged it. This ensured the locals left him alone and the only person that ventured near the place was a local shop owner, a busybody named Elwyn Evans, who once a week delivered essential supplies. Mr Evans rarely saw the owner of Neuadd Fawr and payment was left in the old crumbling porch at the side of the house and once his deliveries were unloaded, he ‘didn’t hang about’ - as he recounted to any of his customers who were prepared to listen to his gossip. Most of what he said was taken with a liberal pinch of salt, however, a little addition here and there served to fuel rumours and no doubt increase his custom at the same time.
As winter approached in the year of 1887 Mr Evans discovered the reclusive owner in that very same porch, covered in a dusting of snow which had blown in through a broken window. It was concluded that he had fallen over, become unconscious and subsequently died of exposure. A grizzly end coupled with uneducated superstition and a gossiping shopkeeper propagated even more local stories about the house’s dark past.
A distant relative of the recently deceased, who nobody knew existed, was now the new owner of Neuadd Fawr. He had paid one visit to his crumbling inheritance and decided that he wouldn’t live there under any circumstances. He instructed a local solicitor to manage the house’s contents, saving anything of value and disposing of the rest. When this exercise was complete the old house was put up for sale or rent with basic furniture included, much to the amusement of the locals, because nobody was going to live there!
Sometime later, as November progressed, the little snug of the village public house was awash with rumours that the old house was to be rented, and a few days later it was confirmed that indeed, an author, one Richard Tregenna was to be the new occupier. He was apparently a fairly successful writer of historical novels, a confirmed bachelor and someone who openly declared that he had no time for superstition - saying, ‘Apart from my novels I only deal in facts’. However, his occupation and beliefs meant nothing to the locals, he was just someone who was foolish enough to rent Neuadd Fawr!
A rental period of three months had been agreed, this being the amount of time that Mr Tregenna deemed necessary to finish his latest novel. The new landlord was both surprised and pleased that someone was moving in because by his own admission the old place wasn’t the most welcoming. In addition he had been reading some diaries found by his solicitor that had been gathering dust in an old bureau, and some of the entries had raised an eyebrow.
When the house had been occupied by the parents of Caradoc Llewelyn Jones it was only ever used as a summer residence, when the days were long, and more importantly when the nights were short!! It appears that there were some very unusual occurrences that had made them feel very uncomfortable, especially in the evenings as the light faded. In fact once the month of October arrived they always packed-up and spent the winter on the south coast in rented accommodation. A little extravagant it was thought, but there must have been a reason.
It was now late November and a bitter wind scoured the bare Brecon Beacon’s countryside; the only sound was the stark call of a Carrion Crow uttered from a lonely ivy clad tree outside the old house. The countryside was asleep, harvests were long gathered in and livestock were safely in their winter pastures. The vicar of the local parish Reverend Nathanial Price paid a courtesy visit to the hall as was his custom to welcome any newcomer to his parish. After exchanging pleasantries over a glass of brandy the Reverend Price bade Richard good evening, declining the offer of dinner saying that he ought to be home before dark. It struck Richard that he had left in an unnecessary hurry, bordering he thought on rudeness, however, he dismissed the idea concluding it was just his imagination.
Initially his latest book had come on well but annoyingly he now appeared to be experiencing some form of ‘writer’s block’ and frustratingly he couldn’t seem to overcome it, he put it down to tiredness because he hadn’t been sleeping well. One night in particular he had been kept awake by an intermittent tapping on his bedroom window. The small hours had passed very slowly indeed and at one point he had contemplated going downstairs to try and write. This, however, he decided after some consideration, was a very unpleasant prospect. He didn’t understand why, but he felt singularly disinclined to leave his bed, making the excuse that it was particularly cold for the time of year. One thing he was determined to do was cut back the small branches of the ash tree outside his bedroom window that he felt were the source of his troubled sleep.
The following morning when he opened his window in readiness for the ash tree pruning to take place he had a very unpleasant shock. To his horror he could see that he was mistaken - the ash tree was nowhere near his window and couldn’t have been the cause of his interrupted sleep. This was very disconcerting, and after he closed his window he sat on the bedside chair to compose himself. Later he ate his breakfast with some difficulty, he had no appetite, and remonstrating with himself he maintained ‘there must be another reason, a nocturnal bird perhaps, yes, that must be it’. He started to feel a little better after he’d offered himself a plausible reason for the tapping.
The days laboured on towards Christmas and his writing was tortuous, having neither continuity nor creativity. Sleep, although not interrupted by any physical noises, nevertheless, continued to evade him. Frequently he was being kept awake by dreams of a most unsettling nature: he was alone, walking on the Beacons in a storm, and having casually looked back he perceived a vague figure some distance behind him. Although this figure didn’t seem to present any threat to him there was something about it that was deeply unnerving, possibly because it appeared, ridiculous as it may seem, to have no actual form. What was even stranger was that irrespective of how fast he walked this figure maintained the same distance between them. The only escape from this persistent panorama were his sudden awakenings. However, to get up and go downstairs was still very unpalatable indeed. Unfortunately time was now fast running out on the lease of the old house, but the prospect of remaining any longer was most abhorrent to him, therefore, finishing his novel had now became even more pressing.
Christmas eve brought with it a fall of snow, the countryside was enveloped in a sparkling white blanket and the house was well and truly held in winter’s grasp. Luckily he was well stocked up with enough food and fuel to last him over the festive period. He was working late into the evening, the log fire had burned down low and he was just putting his papers in order, contented that at last he was beginning to make some literary progress. He poured himself a glass of brandy and stood enjoying it in front of the dying embers of the fire, as was his custom before retiring - but what happened next would test the strongest resolve of the most steadfast unbeliever: An unexpected wind had begun to blow, rushing around the house, on it went, rising and falling, wailing and moaning and he thought that although it was only the wind, even the unimaginative would be happier without it after five minutes.
Suddenly - a fierce gust threw open the French windows scattering papers around the room and extinguishing his candles. After blundering around the furniture he managed to close the offending aperture and sit back down, breathless. Then after much searching he found a candlestick and righted it on his desk, he stretched his hand forward to locate his matches and suddenly he was paralysed with an indescribable fear - a cold clammy hand delicately placed the matchbox into his own; understandably he was frozen to the spot as an intense fear gripped his very soul, but then self-preservation galvanised him into action. He raced across the room and began to beat furiously on the closed door of the study which stubbornly refused to open, in his blind panic he had forgotten that the lock was prone to sticking, but finally, after what seemed an age he found himself outside in the hallway. Desperately he fumbled for the candle and matches that were always placed in an alcove at the foot of the stairs, but as he did so a ghastly voice whispered in his ear, ‘Why don’t you turn around and look at me’?
This hitherto staunch unbeliever stumbled up the stairs in complete darkness quickly reaching what he thought was the sanctuary of his bedroom where he barricaded a chest of drawers against the door. His beliefs had been radically challenged and he was now experiencing true terror – but it wasn’t over – he could now hear slow but deliberate footsteps climbing the old creaky stairs. He waited, terrorised by the unknown entity that he pictured outside his chamber door and appallingly his worst fears were realised as the door was now being slowly pushed open. With every ounce of strength, with every fibre of his being, with the remainder of his sanity he resisted the force from outside. A battle ensued, time blurred as he repelled the unseen horror again and again, until he must have collapsed with exhaustion and found himself prostrate on his chamber floor with daylight breaking.
Christmas morning dawned and the Reverend Price walked over to Neuadd Fawr to invite his new neighbour to the festive carol service after lunch. He thought it somewhat unusual that the front door was wide open in this cold Christmas weather and after much ‘helloing’, puzzlingly he received no reply. He closed the door firmly, but as he left he saw a line of footprints in the snow leading up the drive from the old house which he hadn’t noticed on his way in. However, these footprints were not it appeared made by someone just walking - they were too far apart, he could only conclude that someone had left in a hurry.
Merry Xmas.........

Every year in the Brecon Beacons it’s getting more and more difficult to locate one of my favourite wintering birds – the Great Grey Shrike. They never appear in any numbers anywhere in the UK and that is accepted because they lead very solitary lifestyles out of the breeding season, but we always used to have one or two in the area. However, over the last few years sightings have been very few and far between.
These predatory birds arrive in the UK from northern and eastern Europe where the winter cold and lack of food becomes untenable. In the UK they occupy moorland and heaths where there are scattered trees which they use as vantage points to watch out for prey, principally rodents, but also small birds and basically anything that moves along the ground.
Male and female appear very similar and at distance it is difficult to tell the sexes apart.
However, if more detailed observation is possible;

The male has much blacker lores, (complete black mask), mostly black bill and darker black wing markings.


Looks like a male bird.

Females have paler lores (incomplete black mask), a paler lower mandible and less black wing markings. Also female birds of the northern Excubitor race can have vermiculations to the breast and flanks.


Looks like a female bird.
The vermiculations are just visible on the lower belly.

All these markings are subtle and become less detailed out of the breeding season making ID even more difficult in winter.
The Shrike family are one of my favourites and I have been fortunate to photograph all the family members that are seen in Europe.
The Great Grey Shrike, the only shrike likely to be seen in the Brecon Beacons has the Latin name Lanius Excubitor. Translated – Lanius being Latin for butcher and Excubitor being Latin for watchman. Literally, the butcher who watches, and this succinctly describes this bird's behaviour. It perches in elevated positions and watches for prey moving beneath.
Once prey is killed it is usually not eaten wholly but skewered onto either Hawthorn or Blackthorn, these thorny bushes are then used as a larder which the bird revisits periodically when hungry – fascinating.
I am hoping this winter we will get one in this area and if so I will be actively trying to see and photograph it.