Lesvos 9 – second Wednesday and Thursday

12 Friday May 2023

Posted by Musiewild in Cats, Countryside views, Photography, Plants, Travel, Wildlife

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I was feeling somewhat better the next day, but the day’s walking promised to be quite long, with no chance to rest in the bus, so I decided to stay behind. As on the previous Monday, I had a very pleasant day in Molyvos, which this time did not involve going up and down the main slope.

*The church was a stone’s throw from the hotel.*

From there I took a road behind the hotel which I knew from a map could in due course get me, rightwards, to the town centre, but which would, leftwards, give me access through a field to the far coastline.

It was two fields in fact. This is the first.

*This circular ruin was five or six metres wide. There was no clue as to what it had been. Given its position, it could well have been defensive.*

This map, at the car park where the coach had dropped us on Sunday, shows that, while Molyvos is at the north of the island, it is also on a headland pointing westwards, the location of the hotel. I was exploring that very tip. (Cycling friends may be turning green, sorry.)

This video therefore starts with part of Lesvos in the background, and ends with part of Turkey in the background. (Sound on.)

I sat on this bench for quite a while.

I moved on to another bench, even further west by a few meters. It even had plastic-covered cushions. But it was really windy and chilly there – I didn’t stay.

I wandered on round the further field, looking this way and that.

*No-one around to identify the flowers for me…*

*An observation post? From what era? This is all there is to it, with space for just one person.*

*James later identified this for me as a black and white chafer in the genus Oxythyrea*. *David Re and Felicity visited this field an hour or so later and likewise had taken a photo of it* – *though I can’t guarantee it was this very specimen…*

I made my way back to the road, and turned leftwards towards the town centre.

I came out at a favourable part of the double slope.

*I kept meaning to find out what this chimney was/had been for, and kept forgetting.*

By the time I got back to the hotel, it was past coffee time, so I treated myself to a cake as well. (I put on 4 lb, 1.9 kg, in the week.)

Dimitris, our host, came by and asked if I wanted another, saying I could have a third free if so. He knew he risked nothing! But I engaged him in conversation about these, hanging by his boat, which I suspected were octopus legs.

I was right, and yes he had caught the animal himself. It had been a big one, with a body about the size of a football, as he indicated with his hands. In response to my questions he explained that there were only seven legs because octopuses, when hungry, will eat their own limbs, which will grow back. He would be grilling the legs. No, not for us, he would be selling the dish. (My inference from his tone was that he would make more profit that way.)

I was most relieved that we would not be invited to eat them, and I ventured on to more sensitive ground. What did he think of the proposal to farm octopuses? (I had recently signed a petition against such treatment of such a sentient being, one of the most intelligent creatures with which we share the earth.) Given, he said, that the population was declining, he thought is was OK. I dropped the subject.

In part 3 of this account I mentioned the cats seen everywhere, and have there corrected the wrong impression that it was the Greek government which helped keep stray cats healthy. I asked Dimitris to whom did all these cats belong. He said, “No-one, they are harbour cats. Someone comes to feed them and we all toss them the fish we catch that are too small. I once counted 35 cats around my boat!” My maximum had been twelve seen at once from my balcony. They had been hanging around those eating at the next-door restaurant, with no-one apparently objecting.

After eating my lunch on my balcony, I wandered along to the end of the roadway, without going on to the harbour wall.

*Clambering up here (there were a few steps) would have been another way to the fields I had been exploring in the morning.*

The rest of the afternoon was spent in my room and on my balcony, pottering again – reading, thinning photos, contacts with friends via email and Facebook, and – I know, it’s pathetic – ordering a new suitcase! I was rather worried that the zip the one I had with me would not survive the journey home, and certainly I wouldn’t risk it on another holiday. (It did just last, and then finally gave up the ghost.)

The main news from the others when they came back was that Philip had been stung by a scorpion! It had settled on his bag when he had put it down, and he hadn’t seen it when picking it up again. No ill effects, but it had hurt a great deal and his hand still felt numb at dinner. (Spoiler alert – he was still alive the next day.) That dinner was interrupted very briefly by a power cut, due to a very fierce thunderstorm and very heavy rain. How lucky we had been throughout the week, with very pleasant spring weather, and never too hot.

The next – our last – morning dawned chilly and gloomy, and I was definitely on the mend. Which was as well, given the day’s travel ahead. This time I was not staying anywhere overnight, and should just be home by a ‘felt-like’ midnight, 10.00 BST.

*Prue and Nick take a final walk along the harbour wall*.

Luggage on a truck, we had the up and down kilometre to walk to the coach which would take us, past the Killoni salt pans, to Mytilene airport. I took a few photos on the way, observing the sky clearing.

Arrived at the small airport, we checked in our luggage and then sought places to eat our packed lunch. Along with a handful of others, I followed Philip and James. They had hoped to be able just to cross the road to the beach, but there were roadworks in the way. We had to go a few hundred yards to avoid them.

Then, again, the interminable wait to get through passport control, so long that I was concerned that those behind me night not make the plane, since they called boarding while I was still some way back in the queue. They did, and then the flight was 20 minutes late taking off.

My journey from there should have been smooth: Stansted Express to Liverpool Street station, tube round to Hammersmith and a dreary 3.5 hour bus ride back to Glastonbury, where I would have taken a taxi, if available, to avoid my own up-and-down slope (not nearly as long or high as Molyvos’s!) to my house. Forgetting that Stansted serves other places than just London, and a little concerned about time, I leapt onto the first train I saw, which was very packed and, I assumed, near leaving. I looked up and saw the destination panel. ‘Norwich’. Something made me remark on this out loud, which caused fellow passengers to tell me that all Stansted Expresses were cancelled for the foreseeable, because of a fatality on the line at Harlow, that I need to stay on this train to go to Cambridge, and there take a train to King’s Cross. Help! I would never get to Hammersmith in time, and that bus home was the only one until the sane time next day.

Calm down. Think. King’s Cross to Paddington, train to Castle Cary, and taxi home from there. Which is what happened, with chaotic scenes at Cambridge. At Paddington it occurred to me that perhaps there would be no taxis at Castle Cary at that time of night. Fortunately the second company I had found on line was able to respond. All went smoothly from then on, and, because the train was so much faster than the bus, I got home at pretty well the same time I would have done, though £73 the poorer.

Friends have since said ‘Oh, you should have called me’, but it was late and home is far from Castle Cary. Greater Anglia have reimbursed the full cost of my return ticket, Liverpool Street to Stansted, but their small print means that I am still £50 out of pocket. Ho hum.

But neither that nor my cold spoilt what was a really lovely holiday on a beautiful island. Thank you Philip and James, and all my companions for being so lovely, and knowledgeable, and … companionable. I imagine that some of you, like me (with my new suitcase) are already looking forward to your next holiday. Mine is in June, a week on a barge going down the Caledonian canal for a week, on a cruise with a wildlife theme…

*Felicity, Ruth, me, Andrew, Alison, Helen, Sally, James, Maureen, David Ra, Philip (top of head), Jane, Prue, Nick, David Re*

Lesvos 7 – Monday

10 Wednesday May 2023

Posted by Musiewild in Cats, Travel, Photography, History

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collared dove, grey mullet, Lesvos, Molyvos, Molyvos castle, Nikos Kepetzes, Sea horse hotel Molyvos, swallowtail, swift

Throughout Sunday I had been trying to convince myself that, despite a few sneezes and lots of sniffles, I had not got a cold coming. But by bedtime I had to admit the truth to myself. Despite having worn a heavy-duty mask all day Wednesday, except at Liverpool Street station and at the hotel, then on Thursday in airports, aeroplane and minibus, I had somehow picked up a cold en route. (Only now, as I write these words, am I thinking that the incipient cold perhaps explains my fatigue in the couple of days preceding.)

I had a very restless and broken Sunday night, and around 1 o’clock got up and stood on my balcony.

The morning dawned beautiful.

There was no question of my going out with the group. I was very concerned not to spread my bug, so sat outside during breakfast, our host Dimitris kindly bringing me all the necessary (and, I suspect, a little more – feed a cold), and Nick kindly came out to keep me company.

I watched my companions gather to leave for the day.

And noticed a pair of collared doves in their nest by the awning. He (I presume) had just flown in with some nesting material. It is from this region that the pretty species spread across Europe, arriving in the UK just a few decades ago.

The ‘wildlife’ that was going to impinge most on me during the day were the many delightful cats around.

When the group had left, I firstly amused myself trying to capture the many swifts screaming about, but they lived too much up to their name for my skills.

I took a walk around the harbour walls.

*The up and down of the incline we had walked from the coach the previous day can be seen*.

*A boat patrol. We saw evidence that the Lesvians are maintaining strict vigilance against potential refugees. I saw a helicopter patrolling later in the day.*

But I had to find a large supply of tissues. This meant going back nearly to where the coach had dropped us the previous day, to a supermarket there.

That shopping done, I turned back, but was soon glad that I had had to go so far for my purchases (which included some Greek nuts, and some honey for a friend back home). A steep road of steps tempted me inland a few meters into the village centre, and I found myself in a delightful and near deserted set of roads that were not much more than alleyways, that no doubt in the tourist season are packed. I was not surprised to find that a restaurant was named after Molyvos’s cats.

I stopped for a coffee, and found myself for a few minutes talking with a young Dutch woman who served me and a bronzed English woman customer of a certain age, both of whom lived in Molyvos.

I sat outside to drink my coffee.

I moved on upwards.

*A revered doctor? I can find nothing about him online* *(in Roman lettering anyway).*

I was intending to find a way back to the up-and-down road, hoping I might find myself at its crest. But instead I kept seeing this sign, which tempted me further upwards, by relatively easy steps.

And in what seemed no time at all, I found myself near the top.

I walked round the outer walls, as far as possible, and back again to the entrance.

There I paid the entrance fee of €3, and spent the next half hour or so wandering around, referring to the leaflet I had been given. The monument’s history reflects the chequered history of the island itself. Originally a Byzantine castle, it was taken by the Venetians early in the 13th century. It was captured by Baldwin of Flanders (on his way to the Crusades, if my ‘A’ level history serves me correctly). Late in that same century it passed into the control of the Catalans, and less than 100 years later to a Genoan dynasty, the Gattelusi. (Anything to do with cats?) The Turks occupied Lesvos in 1462, and the Ottomans repaired and added to the castle in the 15th and 17th centuries. It is the second-largest castle on Lesvos, after that of Mytilene.

I was surprised to find how green it was inside.

On my way down (still hoping to find myself at the crest of the coastal double slope, not the wrong side of it), I was excited to see what I thought might be a moth we hadn’t yet seen. But scrutiny of my photo once back revealed it to be a very, very worn, so near defunct, butterfly. James identified it as a swallowtail.

I did indeed emerge from the village centre where I had hoped, and made my way back to the Sea Horse hotel, (includes good video of Molyvos) where Dimitris’s wife Stella was out front.

I ate my packed lunch in my room, then went down to have a coffee, and a bit of a chat with Dimitris. This was his boat, the St Nicholas, and (as I learned later) he had indeed caught the bream we would have at dinner that evening. Now he was removing all the stones he had picked up at the same time.

I hoped to sleep that afternoon. I didn’t manage to, but just did some restful pottering in my room. At dinner, I learned that the group also had been to the castle – though not all went in – having been dropped off, at the end of their day’s wildlife discoveries at Kavaki and Petri, at the top (!) of Molyvos by the minibus. So we’d all had a lovely day.

Lesvos 3 – Friday (part2)

06 Saturday May 2023

Posted by Musiewild in Cats, Countryside views, Photography, Plants, Travel, Wildlife

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alkanet, Anchusa undulata, bee-eater, Caspian terrapin, coot, corn bunting, deadnettle, European bee-eater, Great tit, Gulf of Kalloni, lamium moschatum, Lesvos, Little Owl, milk thistle, Poppies, silybum marianum, verbascum, wood sandpiper

Suitably refreshed, we continued eastwards to the Tsiknias River. There we sheltered from the sun and a stiff breeze in a hide to eat our packed lunches, then walked northwards along the river.

*Some are ahead of me and some, these, behind.*

The next photo, a ridiculous one, is here just for the record. It is the best I could do of an entertaining bunch of European bee eaters – a very long way off!

By the turn round point, my hips were telling me they wanted to stop dawdling and to start walking properly so I did so, though quite slowly.

*(Dung?) beetle. The body was about an inch long.*

I crossed the village of Skala Kalloni again. There were many cats, healthy-looking ones, everywhere there was habitation. Many of them were ginger. I have learnt since my return that the Greek government pays people to look after stray cats, and I am aware of someone on Crete who receives such a subsidy. Later edit: Correction. Not the Greek government, who ‘couldn’t care less’, but an association.

I spent a pleasant half-hour just sitting on a bench a few minutes away from our hotel, watching the waves on the gulf. I thought the party might catch up, but heard later that the walk back had had many stops to see interesting things, and that a final stop had been made at the place we had taken refreshment in the morning!

*Coot spotted on the lake-that-(almost)-no-longer-was*

Cornwall 3 – 4. Prussia Cove and Cudden Point

17 Friday Sep 2021

Posted by Musiewild in Cats, Countryside views, Music-making, People, Photography, Travel

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Bessy's Cove, Cornwall, Cudden Point, Hilary Tunstall-Behrens, International Musicians Seminar, John Amis, Kenneggy Sands, Natalie Wheen, Perranuthnoe, Porth-en-Alls, Prussia Cove, red admiral, Sandor Vegh, St Michael's Mount

This was my choice for Monday morning, 9th September, the third day of my holiday in the far tip of Cornwall. I thought the walk would probably stretch me, but I had a reason for choosing it, from my other ‘walks’ book, by the Ordnance Survey.

It started at Perranuthnoe, the sun having cleared the heavy sea mist which prevailed just 20 minutes earlier as I had set off eastwards from Penzance.

For about half of its distance the walk would be through fields and lanes.

*Looking back towards Perranuthnoe once I’d made the necessary height.*

*The walk started at the north-west tip and went clockwise*.

*Interesting stiles in Cornwall. This one’s almost level, despite appearances.*

After half an hour I realised that I had failed to take my walking pole from my boot. Too far in now, I would have to manage without, something I was not looking forward to for the second part of the walk, along the South-west Coastal Path, up and down, up and down, cliff and cove, where my pole would, I thought, make all the difference to the ‘down’ bits.

I was most surprised to see this beehive to my right at one point, though further from me than this photo makes it appear.

Just metres further on I saw this shack, clearly party of a homestead. For the next couple of hundred metres, well spaced out, there were more dwellings, rather less ‘shacky’.

The last section of the inland part of the walk went north-south, along a path with, to me, a vertiginous descent, and very slippery because of little pebbles and soil. How I missed my walking pole to steady me, balance not being my strongest point. I grew increasingly fearful of the coastal path to come. At points down this steep path I used the method toddlers use when going down stairs…

As I neared the end of this descent, I could see Porth-en-Alls House, which took me back to 1973, though I had not seen it from this angle before. But I did recall seeing from the House the waves crashing onto the rocks of the promontory.

*The House can just be seen centre, slightly right.*

*Kenneggy Sands. At this point I was to turn right onto the South-west Coastal Path.*

Where inland met coast was my reason for wanting to do this walk. When I was in this tip of Cornwall for the only previous time, in 1973, I had stayed for three weeks at Prussia Cove, near Marazion. This was, and still is, an estate of holiday cottages on the coast, and mine was one of the Coastguard Cottages, which I had all to myself. I was there, on unpaid leave from H M Treasury, as secretary to the International Musicians Seminar, founded just the year earlier by the celebrated Hungarian violinist, Sandor Vegh, and by Hilary Tunstall-Behrens. It still runs, and still takes place at Prussia Cove, based on Porth-en-Alls House. (I had no knowledge of H T-B’s exploits when I was introduced to him on taking the job!)

Two longer term consequences of my involvement in this event arose for me personally. The broadcaster and music critic John Amis, and radio presenter Natalie Wheen, visited for a couple days on behalf of the BBC. I found myself singing 4-part music with them once or twice. We remained in touch and had few further sessions, this time with five singers, back in London, once in my flat in Kentish Town.

The other consequence arose because it was my task, on the eve of Sandor Vegh’s arrival, to visit the cottage where he was to stay to check on, (or was it to light?), a fire to warm the place. (I think this was April.) The ‘cottages’ on the estate are well spread out, and a black and white cat was hanging around one of them. I can never resist talking to a cat, and I was a little embarrassed that she followed me all the way back to my own cottage. Free to leave if she wanted, she adopted me, and my reward was to find a dead mouse by my slippers nearly every morning when I woke up. I was informed, by the estate owners I think, that they thought she had been left behind by some previous holiday makers. Missy, as she became, virtually jumped in my car as I left Prussia Cove to return to London, my lovely companion for the next 12 years.

After 15 minutes or so, I arrived at Porth-en-Alls House. From that angle it did not seem at all familiar to me. But I was delighted to hear string chamber music emerging from this building, stopping and starting as if learning/rehearsing was going on – for these concerts perhaps?

I vaguely remembered this parking area, the upper part of which is on the SW Coastal Path. Perhaps the reason I recall it, unlike the House, is is that my car wouldn’t start and had to call the AA. Embarrassingly it turned out that I had just run out of petrol, (half of their call-outs they told me). Living in London, and a new driver, I had not got used to doing long journeys and and failed to check the fuel gauge sufficiently!

I snuck this photo, in which a violinist can just been seen. One of these presumably.

I failed to see the Coastguard Cottages, and I had neither the energy nor the time to go searching for them. It was very hot, not a cloud in the sky all day.

*Bessy’s Cove, one of the four making up Prussia Cove, and the nearest to the House*

*Looking back at Bessy’s Cove. I recall singing three-part madrigals with two other women, sitting on one of the rocks.*

My dread of the Coastal Path was unnecessary. That descent to the coastal path had been much worse than anything I encountered from then on. That said, this climb was steep!

Reached the top, I sat down on the narrow path, rested and took this photo. Fortunately no-one wanted to get by in either direction while I was there.

I arrived at Cudden Point.

This was the view as I passed over it, with Perranuthnoe in the far distance.

Brief exchanges with people coming in the other direction, or just resting, added to the pleasure of the walk. Footsore and very weary, I could see Perranurthnoe was getting nearer,

and then as I rounded every headland, it came nearer and nearer (as it were).

*St Michael’s Mount can be seen in the mist. Nearby, blackberries sustained me.*

Three hours and 15 minutes after setting off, I arrived at the Beach Cabin Café, where a cheese sandwich and some apple juice refreshed. And I hadn’t even had to queue, despite the staff shortages in hospitality venues announced everywhere.

My ‘sandwich’ half eaten (it was a doorstep with copious filling, salad and crisps, much more than I wanted) I walked the few paces down to the beach to see what was attracting those going by, before climbing wearily back to my car.

It was only 2 pm, so the day’s entertainment could not end there.

Grantown-on-Spey 2

06 Thursday Jun 2019

Posted by Musiewild in Cats, Countryside views, History, Museums, Music-making, People, Photography, Travel, Wildlife

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Anagach Woods, bird cherry, bog cotton, Caledonian forest, Clan Chattan, Clan Grant, Clarsach, Cromdale brooch, Curling, Decimalisation, dipper, Grant Arms Hotel, Grantown-on-Spey, Grantown-on-Spey-Museum, grey wagtail, James Grant, James Grant of Grant, mallard, pied wagtail, Ramsay MacDonald, River Spey, Spotted flycatcher, Springwatch, Strathspey, Treecreeper, wild lupin

Friday 31st May. On offer this morning was a walk in the local woods, led by Simon, one of the experts on hand in the hotel. With three other residents, I availed myself of it. We started at the local golf course,

where we saw nothing of interest, though Simon did his best to convince us that this was a rare Scottish wild cat.

The Anagach Woods were established in 1766 by James Grant of Grant (more later), but they look very natural, and provide excellent habitat for local fauna.

And flora.

As we walked through the woods, for much of the time to the right was acidic boggy land with stunted trees that could be 200 years old.

To our left, classic Caledonian forest, (the BBC’s ‘Springwatch’ is currently coming from just a few miles away) allowing lots of light through to nourish berry-bearing plants, good food for native species.

I was frequently a little behind my companions, as I was the only one taking photos.

Particularly if they involved reflections

We emerged from forest into more open land, and I learned that this native tree was called bird cherry.

We reached the River Spey, and went on to a bridge. (Of which, annoyingly, I did not think to take a photo when we later went down to the path on the right hand side.)

You don’t often get the chance to see a mallard’s orange feet so clearly.

On the far side of the bridge I was able to see this bird, identified for me as a spotted flycatcher.

I said that I couldn’t see any spots, even when it obligingly turned round for me.

But spotted flycatcher it was, I was assured.

From the bridge I was also able to wonder at these wild lupins, through which we were to wander minutes later. We also saw a very newly fledged grey wagtail.

Once down there, along the bank we watched a fledged pied wagtail being fed. Its parent was too quick for me.

Further along was a dipper, again it was thought, newly fledged, not least because it was showing a marked reluctance to dip.

And then there were two, sibling fledglings. Believe it or not.

As we started to walk back, completing a loop, it started to spit. I was able to notice and admire these patriotic finials.

By the time we were back at the hotel, via the Post Office in my case, it was pouring.

And still was in the afternoon, so instead of pursuing my rural intentions, I did that standby of wet afternoons, the local museum.

Which was small and perfectly formed. I learned that the Clan Grant had been around for a few centuries when Sir James Grant of Grant, he of the Anagach Woods, and known as ‘the good Sir James’, decided, in the mid-eighteenth century, to create a town on the River Spey. It didn’t become quite the boom town he had hoped, because it was too distant from anywhere, but it throve nevertheless, especially once it had become such a sought after place for holidays and leisure a hundred years later.

I learned about the superclan (that’s my word) Chattan, and its motto ‘Touch not the cat bot [without] a glove’, meaning that they were fierce fighters. This was a confederation of clans and large families with origins at least as far back as the fourteenth century. The wild cats engraved on this large 1600s brooch, the Cromdale brooch, suggest it may have a connection to the Clan Chattan.

Sir James’s plan of Grantown-on-Spey, showing the Anagach Woods, and The Square, in fact a thin oblong, where the Grant Arms Hotel is located.

Alone in the museum, for 15 minutes I got quite emotional as I took up the invitation, below, to try the clàrsach, which was perfectly in tune, picking out tunes and even singing with it. (In the evening, I spent some time researching the cost of and how to play the instrument, I had been so moved by the experience, but have reluctantly come to the conclusion that I am unlikely to be any more successful with this instrument than I have been with any requiring the co-ordination of more than two fingers!)

Tearing myself away – I felt I could have stayed there for hours – I perused the rest of the museum, which featured various professions and achievements of the town’s residents, including the inventor of the flush toilet. (No pictures!)

Endorsement of he hotel by Prime Minster Ramsay MacDonald in 1934, from its wording apparently solicited.

I was fascinated by these next two images when I came to see them on screen. The light was flickering a little on the display of the curling stone, but my eyes did not see the complete darkness the camera did as it took the photos on burst.

Finally, the 1970s are clearly history to some, though I can remember the day we converted to decimal coins as if it were yesterday. Ironically, I was working in H M Treasury in Whitehall at the time. The lady on the sandwich kiosk was having a terrible time with the new coinage, and the queue was very long indeed!

Namibia/Botswana/Zambia 21

19 Friday Apr 2019

Posted by Musiewild in Cats, Photography, Travel, Wildlife

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Big Cat Festival, Bradt Travel Guides, Bushbuck, Camp Nkwazi Lodge, Chacma baboon, finfoot, Fish eagle, Hadeda ibis, hippo, hooded vulture, Jonathan Truss, kudu, Lion in Trafalgar Square, quinine, Reed cormorant, Trumpeter hornbill, village weaver, Zambezi River, Zambia, Zimbabwe

Our final day ended with a ‘sunset cruise’, intended, we were told, less to look for wildlife than to just enjoy the experience of being on the (Zambezi) river for a couple of hours. As I stood beforehand on the terrace of the Camp Nkwazi Lodge…

Far off on the opposite, Zimbabwean, bank, kudu

As people started embarking, I held back to get this picture, and feared that I was therefore condemned to sitting in the full sun of the open top deck. But in fact, given the breeze created by the movement of the boat, it was lovely up there.

It was very pleasant along the river, and, uniquely, sundowners were offered – I had gin and orange, the quinine in tonic not being good for my tinnitus. (Sorry, sufferers.)

We hugged the Zambian bank. I wondered if we would come back that way as well, given that halfway across the river we would be in Zimbabwe.

My geopolitical query was answered when we went well over the invisible dividing line halfway across the river when we turned round. So perhaps this trip should have been advertised as ‘Namibia/Botswana/Zambia/ Zimbabwe’. Though truth to tell, we had only ventured a few miles even into Botswana and Zambia.

Hadeda ibis. In addition to its iridescent green ‘flanks’ it has iridescent pink shoulders.

Juvenile fish eagle. It did not seem bothered by us (this a very much zoomed photo), but …

We drift back over to the Zambian side.

I tried, not very successfully, to capture photos of birds low-flying back to their roosts.

As we arrived at the lodge, the owners signalled that there was a Finfoot (‘Uncommon resident.. resemble ducks and cormorants but … unrelated to these groups’, and not yet seen by us) on a small island nearby, so we went in search. Some got a reasonable but fleeting view, I saw it for about half a second scrambling up a bank, and some didn’t see it at all. No question of my photographing it.

But we did hear and see some trumpeting Trumpeter hornbills, and saw some more Hadeda ibis.

And could this be bettered as a final view at the end of a most fantastic and privileged trip?

PS. I went, last Saturday, to a Big Cat Festival in London organised by Bradt Travel Guides. There were lots of wonderful photographs, alongside some hard-hitting conservation messages. In Africa, except when we were at sewage works (!), where it was possible to see some wonderful birds, we had been in national parks, which exclude permanent human habitation. I would not like to have given the impression that these three countries are teeming with wildlife. Our visit was only possible because their governments see the value of preserving what remains of the living treasures they house. At the same time they are having to deal with expanding human populations, and drought.

At the Big Cat Festival, I saw this large picture, by Jonathan Truss. He kindly allowed people to take photos of it. (Sadly I only had my tiny phone with me.) If those lions we saw a few weeks ago had been even half the size of this imaginary one, I think that our confidence around them, even protected by our vehicles, would have been somewhat diminished!

Namibia/Botswana/Zambia 18

16 Tuesday Apr 2019

Posted by Musiewild in Cats, Countryside views, Photography, Travel, Wildlife

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bateleur, black-backed jackal, Botswana, buffalo, Chacma baboon, China, Chobe river, coppery-tailed coucal, elephant, hippo, Impala, Kori bustard, Lion, lioness, marabou stork, osprey, red-billed hornbill, Trumpeter hornbill, White-fronted Bee-eater, Zambezi, Zambia, zebra, Zimbabwe

Thursday 7th March, morning. As mentioned already, Neil and Jakes were not licensed to lead game drives in Botswana, but we had the opportunity to go on an optional (= paying) game drive organised by the lodge, leaving at 6.00 a.m. Most of us decided to do so, but in the event found we very much missed the quality of our own guides. We were again in two vehicles, open ones this time, and with a couple of other people staying at the lodge in each as well.

With a start at 6.00 a.m., it was still far from fully light.

The guides were clearly not interested/didn’t see birds at all, and it was the German lady in our jeep who spotted these and asked to stop for photos.

The tour laid on by the hotel clearly caters for the general public just passing though, not knowledgeable (well, most of them) fanatics like us! But we did nevertheless see some interesting and new things, before we got back for a hasty breakfast at 9.00 a.m., and departure as soon as possible afterwards. For we were to leave Botswana finally for a brief sojourn in Zambia, before setting off on the long journey back to the UK.

It was interesting, for example, to see the Chobe River from a different angle than from the river itself.

Here was a new one – a coppery-tailed coucal

I would have liked a chance to get a better picture of these Kori bustard, but the jeep didn’t stop.

This next was perhaps the most interesting sighting of the game drive. A black-backed jackal came trotting towards us, clearly carrying some very fresh meat. It stopped, dropped the meat, scrabbled a bit, and then moved on – without the meat – and passed behind our jeep. What was going on?

Over there is a hippo, but again the jeep didn’t stop

I think this might be a not-quite-adult female Bateleur, but I’m not sure

Perhaps this was the reason the jeep was rushing. We found ourselves in a bunch of at least a dozen other vehicles, all straining to catch a sight of…

.. a handsome male lion padding across at a great distance.

He was followed by a procession of five or six of his females – I lost count.

But they were a very long way off. On the other hand, had we not had the very good lion sightings earlier on in the trip, we would have been thrilled to see even these.

We turned round, and on the way back for breakfast caught sight of …

…………..

Crossing from Botswana into Zambia (the former Northern Rhodesia) was a more complicated affair than nipping between Namibia (the old South West Africa) and Botswana (the old Bechuanaland) had been.

I’m not sure what took the time at the Botswana emigration post, but hanging around gave us the chance to observe this Red-billed hornbill.

Entering Zambia involved crossing the ‘mighty’ Zambezi River. We hadn’t the time to wait for this bridge, being financed by China, to be completed. [Edit, 12th April 2020. I have discovered, quite by chance today, that this bridge, the Kazungula Bridge, is being financed not by China, but by the Japan International Co-operation Agency and the African Development Bank. How easily we accept that China is behind all development in Africa. And indeed China is financing much of the railway which will use this bridge.]

So we were going to cross by this.

Our vehicles were dwarfed by the HGVs also waiting to cross by ferry.

We were not allowed to stay in the vehicles,

But had to walk on, and stand for the crossing. Which was also more fun.

Looking east, please see Zambia (ex-Northern Rhodesia) to the left and Zimbabwe (ex-Southern Rhodesia) to the right.

And looking west, there are Botswana to your left and Namibia to your right. [*Edit 12th April, 2020.* No, Botswana and Namibia are left, only Zambia on the right. See map in article here.] Whether you can see them or not. The sun on Neil’s left shoulder appears to be coming from the north. That’s because it is – we’re south of the Equator.

We had been warned that here we would have to wait for anything between one hour and three. (Neil had FOUR sets of taxes to pay at different offices!) In the event it was two hours, in great heat, but at least we were in the roofed vehicles by now. There were some interesting things going on, like women picking up really heavy bundles of foodstuffs from the side of some huge HGVs which the latter had carried across the river in addition to their main freight, then putting them on their heads at walking off. I would love to know the story behind that, and I have no idea why I didn’t take photos. Perhaps because of a general reluctance to intrude on people’s daily lives.

Fortunately it was not too long, once we set off, before we stopped for lunch. Though at one point we all leapt up from table (outdoors of course) to seek out a trumpeting Trumpeter hornbill, of which this was the best photo I could get!

We heard, and indeed saw, plenty of these – very loud – at our next and final lodge.

Namibia/Botswana/Zambia 17

14 Sunday Apr 2019

Posted by Musiewild in Cats, Countryside views, Photography, Travel, Wildlife

≈ 13 Comments

Tags

African fish-eagle, Botswana, buffalo, Cattle egret, Chacma baboon, Chobe National Park, Common waterbuck, Egyptian goose, elephant, giraffe, Goliath heron, hippo, Kasikili, leopard, Namibia, Nile crocodile, pied kingfisher, Puku, Reed cormorant, Sedudu, vervet monkey, warthog, water monitor, Water thick-knee, waterbuck, white-crowned lapwing

Wednesday afternoon, 6th March. Vervet monkeys hung around the lodge. Indeed we were advised not to leave our sliding doors open. I did go onto my balcony a couple of times to look, but I didn’t see any. These were in a common area.

After a rest it was out on the boat again, in the same direction. Some familiar wildlife and some new. One very special.

Young Nile crocodile. Looks almost benevolent.

White-crowned lapwing. This time the reason for its name can be seen.

The first and last time we saw this animal, a Puku

Yes, we saw lots of elephants, but I didn’t take lots of photos

I was intrigued and, I confess, slightly amused to see this flag. I had noticed it in the morning, but this time I asked Neil for confirmation that it was indeed the Botswanan flag. ‘Why is it there?’ ‘To show that the [uninhabited] island belongs to Botswana.’ And I recalled from my previous reading that, while the boundary between Botswana (then the Bechuanaland Protectorate) and Namibia (then German South West Africa) had been settled between respectively the UK and Germany (I find myself indignant on behalf of the Africans) in 1890 as, at this point, the ‘main channel’ of the Chobe River, no determination had been made of which channel either side of this island was the main one. The two, by now independent, countries took the matter to the International Court of Justice in 1999. The ICJ studied the geography, including depth and speed of water flow, and determined that the main channel was to the north of the island, so it belonged to Botswana. At the same time it recalled to both countries that seven years previously, they had reached an accord whereby each would have unimpeded rights of way on the river on both sides of the island, known as Sedudu in Botswana and Kasikili in Namibia. Interestingly, leader Neil, Namibian, referred to it as Sedudu.

These last two pictures had been taken while the boat was moving fast, with, unusually, no stopping, and at a time when I would have thought we would be turning round. Yet the boat sped on, further and further from the lodge.

After a short while all became clear. A leopard! Those local boat steerers/guides keep in touch with each other!

I hadn’t given my hope of seeing a leopard – which would complete my big cat ‘list’ – a thought for days. But given this opportunity, I, like everyone else, took zillions of photos, of which here are a very few. It (I don’t know whether it was male or female) was a long way off, but once you knew where it was, there was a clear view.

At least she (no, sorry, I have to give the feline a gender) was alert, and not stretched out fast asleep

We dreaded that there might be/hoped that there would be some leopard/warthog action…

… but neither seemed very interested in the other in the event.

I moved to the upper deck of the boat, and by the time I was there, she also had moved.

Short of seeing her catch prey and dragging it up a tree (the chances of seeing that from a boat were slim to non-existent, I would imagine) this was the best possible view we could have had. From these pictures, I extract the following enlarged portraits.

It was now indeed a race to get back to the lodge before the (Chobe) national park shut. I don’t think we made it in time (there were no physical barriers) but I didn’t hear of the boatmen being fined either.

Namibia/Botswana/Zambia 14

08 Monday Apr 2019

Posted by Musiewild in Cats, Photography, Travel, Wildlife

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

Bradfield's hornbill, buffalo, Caprivi Strip, Cattle egret, Darter, Egyptian goose, Grey go-away-bird, hippo, Kwandu river, Levaillant's cuckoo, Long-tailed starling, Meves's starling, Namibia, Nile crocodile, Openbill, oxpecker, reedbuck, Water thick-knee, waterbuck, weavers, White-browed robin chat, Zambezi Lodge, Zambia, zebra

Monday 4th March. Breakfast was to be at 8 a.m., we were told, preceded by a pre-breakfast walk round the grounds at 7 a.m.

Fascinating to see that what we have in our museum locally in the UK, as a remnant of rural transport hundreds of years ago, is still commonplace in rural Namibia. And so ecological.

I was very ‘interested’ to meet this little chap. At the time we saw him, his sound was quite normal and reasonable and pretty. At 6 a.m. … well, you didn’t need to set an alarm, and it wasn’t pretty!

Here he is again, a White-browed robin chat. My book says , ‘Considered by some as the best songster in Africa’. Hmm. His song perhaps, but definitely not his early-morning call!

And another. They appeared to be talking to each other.

Yes, breakfast was scheduled for 8 o’clock, but they hadn’t told us it was to be on a boat cruising along the river! What a lovely surprise!

This was the double-decker boat, and it was great to be able to go to the top deck to observe the wildlife along the way after we had finished eating.

Water thick-knee. (Strictly, it’s the ankles which are thick, not the knees.)

Buffalos, with cattle egret, and, I suspect, an oxpecker

After this, it was time to pack and move on from the Mahangu Lodge eastwards along the Caprivi Strip. We travelled on a main road which bisects the Caprivi Game Park, and saw some interesting wildlife on the way.

We stopped for lunch at a lodge overlooking the Kwandu River.

The first domestic cat I had seen since leaving home. Even I, felinophile, am not convinced they have their place in the middle of so much wildlife.

We resumed our journey.

Weaver birds’ nests. There are many kinds of weavers, and many kinds of weavers’ nests.

Meat-sellers, through a rather grimy lens

In due course (we did 340 kilometres that day, temperature 36°C max) we arrived at Zambezi Lodge, on the Zambezi River. Opposite was Zambia.

Namibia/Botswana/Zambia 5

22 Friday Mar 2019

Posted by Musiewild in Cats, Photography, Travel, Wildlife

≈ 15 Comments

Tags

black-backed jackal, Cattle egret, elephant, Etosha National Park, European bee-eater, flamingo, gemsbok, giraffe, greater flamingo, grey heron, honey badger, Impala, Kori bustard, leopard tortoise, lilac-breasted roller, Lion, Mokuti lodge, Namibia, Namutoni camp, northern black korhaan, oryx, Ostrich, Pale chanting goshawk, red-billed hornbill, red-necked falcon, Safariwise, Spotted hyena, Striped mongoose, swallow-tailed bee-eater, warthog, white rhino, Wildebeest, zebra

Tuesday 26th February. Today we were leaving Halali Camp and moving on to Mokuti Lodge at the eastern end of Etosha National Park in time for lunch, and to stay two nights. While we were waiting for our vehicles to collect us, some of us were amused to see a honey badger arrive at the row of bins opposite us, (all closed at that stage), sniff at each, and, clearly much practised, neatly flip open the lid of the end one – holding it open with its back leg to prevent it falling shut – go inside and take out this packet of meat, then calmly tear it open and eat the contents, slice by slice. It then proceeded to do exactly the same with a packet of cheese slices. Not the way you really want to observe wildlife, but a clear illustration of adaptation to human presence. They were there first!

We set off through the national park, taking our time, stopping at the roadside and waterholes, making for our new lodge.

I was in Jakes’s vehicle this day, and he was particularly excited to see this rhino. It is a White rhino, quite rare (and, as I discovered later, a reintroduction). ‘White’ is a corruption of, I believe, Dutch ‘wijd’, referring to its wide mouth. The White rhino also has a prominent neck hump. It is noticeably larger than the Black rhino. The Black rhino is also called the Browse rhino.

It’s not only giraffes who have to splay their legs to drink. So do impala

When we saw elephant approaching from our right, we not only stopped, we backed up a little. We were clearly in the path they were going to take.

This is how near they were, even as they were going away.

When we were only a few miles from or next lodge, we stopped at Namutoni Camp, a former German colonial fort, now another government-run lodge.

There was a small museum there, and a family of striped mongooses.

But our next lodge was privately run, and a distinct notch or four up on those we had already stayed at. After a leisurely lunch, and a siesta, we were due to go out, though this was put slightly in doubt by rain, the first of only two occasions when we wondered whether our plans might be affected in this way. But the storm was brief, nothing like enough to help do anything about the drought, and we went out at the planned time.