KAROO CUCKOO
In the second of a two-part series*, Peta Scop and friends move their feather-finding mission on to the Klein Karoo
It’s day three of our avitourism trip and we have many spectacular sightings and close to 100 bird species behind us. Starting in George, our group of media mavens has been delving into the quirky world of birding tourism and has already learnt a whole new vocabulary.
After the lush gardens and tranquil waterways of the Garden Route, we’re heading into the Klein Karoo. Everything opens up. The sky changes. The air changes. Mostly, the landscape changes. Andrew de Blocq, our BirdLife South Africa host and official ticker of our communal bird list, is looking proud. Our whole group is finally looking through the correct end of the binoculars. Traversing Prince Alfred’s Pass, a gravel road that crosses the Keurboom River seven times, you could get dizzy or car sick but the scenery is so beautiful it takes your mind off the bends and inclines. After the rush of the past few days, the slower pace is a balm. We look for birds in the
bushes, on the rocks. In the air. At the Meiringspoort waterfall we see a Cape grassbird, which apparently has a “waterfall-like” call. I add it to my list of want-to-hears.
At the Plaaskind Padstal in the historical hamlet of De Vlugt, we stop for snacks and nostalgia. On theprincealfredpass.co.za, I read that “De Vlugt is what remains of the dwellings of Andrew Geddes Bain and his son Thomas, their outbuildings and the concentration camp that housed the 270 or so convicts who laboured to build the pass under their instruction during the five years it took them to complete the pass in the early 1860s.” The padstal is the real thing, full of homemade tchotchkes, funky art and reminders of childhood. There’s even an actual plaaskind (farm child) playing hide and seek under a crocheted blanket.
Our group spends the night split between two neighbouring farms in the Meiringspoort area. I land at Meijer’s Rust
meijersrust.co.za), a working farm with a range of accommodation including a stone cottage built in the 1850s; self-catering chalets; a converted milk barn; and camping. There are hiking and mountain-bike trails. More than 180 bird species have been recorded on the farm, but I’m eating and drinking and playing with the dogs so I just let them fly over my head.
Some of our group stay round the bend at Varkenskraal varkenskraal.co.za), which is under vines, vegetable seeds, oats, lucerne and Nguni cattle, where self-catering units called Die Werkershuisie and Die Voerstal provide glorious views of the mountains. I go to bed early so I can listen out for owls; I leave all my windows and doors open but the only creature I hear is a bat that swoops in and out again.
FROM TOP TO BOTTOM
Not only are we served a huge breakfast of roosterkoek at “Die Top” of the Swartberg Pass, (1,575m above sea level), with views to the edge of the world in all directions, but we also see three of the seven fynbos endemic birds: the Cape siskin, a canary-like bird with a sweet call; the orange-breasted sunbird, which feeds on nectar; and the Cape sugarbird, the male of which has a very long tail to show off to females. We also hear the Cape rockjumper, but fail to see it — a sad case of dipping, in birder-speak (see box). This is the top bird on most wishlists when visiting the Cape and a flagbearer for the fynbos endemics. So, a glum moment for a lister.
But there’s no time to cry because as part of the breakfast package (with Kobus se Gat’s Swartberg Experience (swartbergexperience.co.za), we are also mountain biking down the pass! It’s hard work flying-sliding down the stony, slippery road and I wish — not the for the first time — that I was an actual bird. Hours later, sitting under the packedwith-grapes vines at De Krans Bistro & Deli (dekrans.co.za/bistro-deli) in Calitzdorp, I finally admit I’m pleased I did it.
Although I’d wished I was a bird earlier in the day, I wouldn’t choose to be a red-billed quelea. De Blocq spots one and tells us it’s an agricultural pest that can cause locust-like decimation of crops. It’s also the most abundant wild bird on Earth, with a population of about 1.5-billion breeding birds. Well, of course I’d not choose something so common or destructive. There is a Scops owl, you know ...
BIRDSONG
It’s a long way from Calitzdorp to Van Wyksdorp over the spectacular Rooiberg Pass and there’s time for dreaming and pondering the nature of things. And where and how we fit in as human beings. And which bird we’d be if we could be a bird. Perhaps a bokmakierie, a species of bush shrike, with its more than 40 vocalisations. People do like to talk ....
In Cry, The Beloved Country, Alan Paton famously describes the area around Ixopo: “There is a lovely road which runs from Ixopo into the hills. These hills are grass covered and rolling, and they are lovely beyond any singing of it.” It’s different here in the far passes of the Little Karoo, but I think it must be equally lovely. There are birds singing and we hear the cardinal woodpecker’s scratchy voice. We see whitebacked mousebirds and speckled mousebirds (spoiler: it has no speckles; was meant to be “spectacled” but was miscopied and the name stuck). We also tick off the brown-hooded kingfisher (which, rather than eating fish, actually hunts insects and small reptiles), but my favourite sighting has to be the southern black korhaan, a small species of bustard endemic to South Africa. As it sits on the ground in the late afternoon sun, its long neck shines like emerald suede. We watch it for a long time, then it lifts off into the air, proclaiming its territory with a croaking call.
After an evening feast at Rooiberg Lodge (rooiberglodge.co.za), I am lucky enough to spend the night at Black Eagle Creek (vanwyksdorptourism.com/portfolio/blackeagle-creek), which has just one guest cabin (sleeps four) with endless landscape views. The reason I am here, in this far-flung place, is because my host Nikki Britz is learning about birds and birding (yes, twitching) and the cabin is on the map of places where local birding authorities are trying to get people to point their binoculars. There’s an abundance of birds on this pristine 36h farm just outside Van Wyksdorp. I’m told black eagles are often spotted. It’s also simply beautiful (find a review of Black Eagle Creek at sundaytimes.co.za).
ONE ARTY HIDE
After a few days of staring into the distance, with or without binoculars, we are around people again. It’s the opening of the refurbished Roland Rudd bird hide at Stilbaai, which is located at the oxidation ponds — what a way to make a wastewater treatment works work for avitourism! There are many smiling children from two local primary schools who have been involved in the project. As a way to get youngsters interested in nature, they were asked to create artworks that would hang in the hide. The result is a wonderful collection of bird images — and a new generation of potential twitchers. While there, we see the deliciously named redknobbed coot, also known as the bleshoender; and have a lucky sighting of a secretive, nocturnal black-crowned night heron roosting in front of the hide. Big tick, says De Blocq.
And then it’s our last night and we’re at Sandpiper Cottages (sandpiper.co.za) in Boggomsbaai, part of the Fransmanshoek Conservancy and a haven for coastal birds. We tick off the black-winged kite with its blood-red eyes, and I have a close encounter with two spotted eagle owls as they fly silently by, one almost brushing my head in the pre-dawn light. We walk on the beach and see gulls. It’s a birding joke but I’ve forgotten the punchline.
VOEL VRY AT VOËLVLEI
We’re a little like a flock of guinea fowl on our last morning, and De Blocq has to herd us for our visit to Voëlvlei, where he’s hoping to spot something special. With enough water this season to harbour an enormous selection of birds including waterfowl and summer-visiting waders, we also see the South African shelduck, (one of two birds with South Africa in the name, the other is the South African cliff swallow), and hundreds of juvenile Kittlitz’s plovers. But sadly for our incredible host, the big dip here is the white-rumped sandpiper, a vagrant, but in a good way. Usually based in North America, sometimes one gets blown off course to Europe and then flies south by instinct, ending up near the wrong cape. Hundreds of birders from all over South Africa flocked here to see it over December and January. To the rest of us it would be just another UFO, but in my heart I believe De Blocq will one day twitch that little bird.