Champions of the Flyway
Tensions ran high and nerves were frayed for a team taking part in the Champions of the Flyway bird race in Israel
It’s edge of your seat birding when taking part in a major bird race in Israel, as you can find out here
It’s when you panic over Black-tailed Godwits that the absurdity of what you are doing becomes apparent. These waders are common migrants in March in southern Israel. They shouldn’t be objects of excitement, commitment or high desire. “Where are they?” grumbled Andy Swash, binoculars flailing. “Everybody has seen them in this corner.” He was not happy. We scanned the lagoons in front of us, which were stuffed with birds. Dream birds. The gulls were mainly Slender-billed Gulls, giraffe-necked and rose-tinted. There were flamingos, too, feeding idly in the shallows. There were Gull-billed Terns and the odd Avocet. Absurdly, we paid scandalously scant attention to the gorgeous Red-necked Phalarope that was swimming in a patch of distant weed like a sped-up duck. But we were after godwits. “We need to move on,” said Tim Appleton, sensing the fading light. “Let’s try the Bird Park again.” And so huffily, with a scuff of Israeli dust, we accelerated along the bank of the reservoirs at ‘Kilometre 20’, as everyone calls this site, and towards the exit. And then we screeched to a halt. A Black-tailed Godwit was paddling, completely unconcerned, in a corner where it shouldn’t have been. We were infused with a sense of glee. The hour was late, but we had notched our 162nd species of the day. “We could do this,” murmured Andy, with a palpable sense of drama. It was southern Israel in late March, so 'this' could only be one thing – the celebrated Bird Race called ‘Champions of the Flyway.’ The Flyway is the migratory motorway between Asia and Africa, a seething bottleneck of travelling birds making their way north towards the great hinterland of Eastern Europe and Russia. The Champions are the team that see the largest number of species in a set 24 hours. With a realistic chance of at least another 10, or even 20 species, we had an opportunity of coming first among the 34 teams taking part. The hour of 4.20am felt a distant memory. It was then that, bleary-eyed, we left the Agamim Hotel in Eilat to begin our assault on the local birds. The two organisers of Champions, the visionary Jonathan Meyrav and Dan Alon, were there to see us off with the cheery “Everybody else went out hours ago.” It was true. The Zeiss Arctic Redpolls, serial winners from Finland, had already posted a picture of a Pharaoh Eagle Owl on Whatsapp, from about 150km to the north. At first, we couldn’t find a White-eyed Gull. There was a big roost downtown, so this was a little bit like missing the Starlings in the Somerset Levels in the
midst of winter. We failed in our attempt with Scops Owl, too, and a slight wind kept the birds of the dark quiet. After 40 minutes we had managed to tick three species, one of which was House Sparrow. Our team, the Media Birders, had over the years managed to acquire a reputation for not troubling the top teams unduly. At this rate, humiliation was in store. But Eilat is far too good a place for birds for anyone to be stuck for long. We headed for the Bird Park, just out of town. It was still dark, and we could see the flamingos feeding in the salt pans in front of the garish, multicoloured lights of the huge downtown hotels – wildlife in front of nightlife. We heard a series of tricky species – a Stone-curlew, an early Nightingale, the squeal of a Water Rail and even the squawking hoot of a Little Bittern. We walked the trails with torches in hand (to spot the vipers that often lurk here at night) and picked up easy birds in the gloom. As it became light, we heard Penduline Tit at its only possible location, and saw no fewer than three Little Crakes from the Anita Hide. Not surprisingly, on Cotf Day, the hide was rocking, bursting at the seams with fellow race-goers. Information flowed freely. Our total edged towards the respectable. Although Champions of the Flyway is competitive, and a race, that is secondary to its overall cause, which is to raise money for conservation, via Birdlife International. All the teams (including ours) pay to enter and acquire sponsorship for their bird race from friends, family, colleagues or companies before they set off. Some people pledge an amount per species, but most simply sponsor your overall effort. Does that remove the competitive edge? Not at all! By 6am, we had 55 species and felt much better. We made the decision to visit Holland Park, on the north-west of town. We must have stepped on something magical; it began to rain birds, and not just ordinary ones, but excellent, difficult ticks. A gorgeous Rüppell’s Warbler was still feeding in the flowering caper bush where it had been two days ago. A skulking Savi’s Warbler miraculously showed itself, followed by more scrubby-warbler action: Eastern Orphean, Subalpine and Sardinian. Next a Cretzschmar’s Bunting drank beside a couple of Trumpeter Finches in a small pool, while we flushed a Wryneck from the bushes, crazy juxtapositions of species. Amazingly, a Sand Partridge – so easy to miss here – stood proud on a rocky ridge. An Alpine Swift whizzed over, and our ambitions soared with it. In our heady delight we took a risk, deciding to visit North Beach early instead of late in the day. A couple of Greater Sand Plovers strutted across the shingle, the Western Reef Egret was still on station and, what was that careening behind the mighty ship hulks moored in the Gulf of Aqaba? Good grief, a Cory’s Shearwater. Nobody else saw one, all day. We finally saw Whiteeyed Gull. It should have been our first bird but was actually our 86th.
Desert bound...
We left Eilat behind and headed into the desert. Several teams, including the Birding Africa Black Harriers and the Leica Cape May American Dippers, full of frighteningly gifted birders, were plying the same track as we were in the Seifim Plains, so our hire cars made us look like a bunch of safari tourists rounding on a pride of lions. The birds here were so exciting that they seemed too good to be seen on anything as trivial as a bird race. How can you see a Temminck’s Horned Lark or a Hoopoe Lark, and only tick it once? At least the splendid Desert Wheatear, always a fabulous bird to see, had the honour of being our hundredth species. It didn’t all go smoothly. Several teams spotted an Asian Desert Warbler, a cute and distinctive bird that would not just be new to our day total, but completely new to me. But we missed it. But then a Tawny Pipit flew over, giving its distinctive ‘tschlip’ call, like a cross between a Pied Wagtail and a sparrow. And then, mercy me, a small flock of larks flew past at head-height, mainly Short-toed but also with some larger individuals among them. It was a classic case of the Short-toed flock acting as migratory carriers for Bimaculated Lark – a very welcome addition to our list. We felt as though we were on a roll, now. Driving north along Route 20, we decided to check a group of three raptors soaring near the Egyptian border. Anyone who has birded this area at this time knows that 90% of all dots are Steppe Buzzards. However, on this occasion, 66% weren’t. The other two were extraordinary. One was a Goshawk and the other was an immature Eastern Imperial Eagle. We pinched ourselves, checked our pulses and decided we were unstoppable. The Champions of the Flyway Bird Race is confined to a large triangular ‘playing field’ covering the
southern point of the country, reaching about 200km up north as far as Nizzana, Yeroham and Arava Junction. Most people on Champions start in the south at Eilat and finish the daylight hours up north, before having to return to the hotel at midnight. Others start by driving to the northern boundary in the early hours and then gradually working south. Our cunning plan was to start south, drive north and then south again. The big danger was that 20-30 species would be completely missed if we didn’t get back south early enough. Thus we carried on northwards, thrilled by rare raptors and risk. We scored two leggy chats: Wheatear and Isabelline Wheatear, as well as hearing Spotted Sandgrouse on the Ovda Plains. Little by little, we ticked off most of what we needed to see. Some of our greatest joys were completely unscheduled, as they often are on bird races. We were trying to reach the sewage lagoons at Nafha Prison but took the wrong turn off the route. As we stopped and wondered what to do, a Long-legged Buzzard flew over and a Desert Finch, always tricky, almost landed at our feet.
Good ticks but a wasted hour
We collected some good ticks at the cliffs at Mitzpe Ramon, including Blue Rock Thrush and Striolated Bunting, and laboured ever northwards towards our most distant destination, the large freshwater lake at Yeroham. On our scouting visit, we'd had this peaceful spot to ourselves, with its coniferous woods, marshes, open water and scrubby hillside. Having wasted an hour on a Collared Flycatcher that never turned up back at Sde Boker, we now had only half an hour to find a dozen species at midday, cowering from noisy humanity. Fortunately, birds such as Mallard, Great Tit and Coot are made of stern stuff and showed easily enough. The Purple Swamphen peeped its head out of the reeds as if to say: “I hear you need to tick me; here I am.” But the Syrian Woodpecker was leading us a merry dance. Once we had seen everything at Yeroham, we were 142 species to the good, but about 125 miles from our next guaranteed suite of birds. We embarked on the very long drive south, fighting against fatigue and the inevitable going down of the sun. For three hours we fed on a few scraps, such as Southern Grey Shrike and Redstart. By the time we reached Shizzafon it was 4.20pm, and the sewage lagoon had emptied of birds. There was no trace of Namaqua Dove or Water Pipit, both present a couple of days ago. Yotvata was even worse. This very fine spot was a dreadful disappointment: no Citrine Wagtails or Pallid Harriers… And so, we headed to Kilometre 20 and our brush with the Black-tailed Godwit. After a lean few hours it was wonderful to see lots of new things again. We knew now, having made it back to within reach of Eilat with some daylight left, that our total was at least thoroughly respectable. But what would the next half hour or so hold? We sped off to the Bird Park. On a perch where, at dawn that morning, there had been a White-breasted Kingfisher, there was now a Pied Kingfisher at dusk, bird number 163. It was as if somebody had spent the day re-painting it. While we were watching the kingfisher, a Snipe had been in view, but by the time we actually looked for it, it had wandered around a corner. The Broad-billed Sandpiper and Temminck’s Stint that had been around had gone. Andy spotted a Mediterranean Gull and urged: “Look in my scope”. But by the time I looked, it must have flown off. Everything was going – light, birds, chances, dreams. And suddenly it was completely dark. We decided to revisit Yotvata, but once again our nocturnal efforts failed completely. We shook hands on 163 and made it back to the hotel before the buffet closed. We finished eighth overall. But the Champions of the Flyway Bird Race is not about the winners – not even about those taking part. It is about the birds themselves. Our year, 2017, more than £38,500 was raised to support the Turkish Birdlife partner Dogˆ a Dernegˆ i, to be put towards halting the illegal killing of birds on migration in that country. That’s what Champions of the Flyway is about: birders getting together to help birds. It is one of the most inspiring events I have ever been involved with. The worldwide collection of self-financed or sponsored participants includes Israeli and Palestinian teams, working to the same cause. Birds don’t have borders. But they do have flyways, and those need our protection.