I was a week into my trip to the Peloponnese, in south-west Greece, and my bird list had stagnated on 40 species. So one day, in search of new birds, I drove from my base at Agios Nickolas, south of Kalamata, to the Gialova Lagoon, on the west coast. Described as “one of the most important wetlands in the Balkans and southern stop-over station for migratory birds”, it boasts an eBird list of some 236 species. Though fewer than 70 miles, the drive, mainly on tortuous, winding roads, took over two hours. Finding the lagoon was easy, though I was saddened to see that the one bird hide was derelict and no longer safe to use. (There is also an observation tower which I didn’t try).
The derelict bird hide at Gialova Lagoon, an IBA
Gialova Lagoon, not as bird rich as I had hoped
As for the birds, well, there weren’t a lot. I expected to see Greater Flamingoes, and wasn’t disappointed. There were several groups of them, numbering at least 100 individuals, but they were all very distant. There were a dozen or more Grey Herons, too, along with at least 30 Little Egrets, while I was delighted to pick up numerous Kingfishers as I scoped the area – I must have seen at least a dozen. But there were no grebes or ducks, only a couple of gulls (both Yellow-legged), and not a lot else.
There were around 30 Little Egrets at Gialova
Kentish Plover, a year-round resident at Gialova
Some hard work with the scope eventually produced 10 Kentish Plovers, three Greenshanks and two Little Stints, all of which were good to see, but I was hoping for more. When I eventually logged my eBird list it numbered a mere 19 species. I’m sure that Gialova can be great in the right season (spring? perhaps early September?) but it certainly wasn’t in early October. However, it is a beautiful area, and the adjoining Voidokillia Beach is simply stunning. I was pleased that I had visited the area, unproductive though it proved. It is a protected area and an IBA (Important Bird Area), but I doubt whether it gets the protection and management it deserves.
Common Buzzard, by far the commonest raptor I encountered
Birding the cliffs at Agios Nickloas – hard work on the neck
Back at my base at Agios Nickoloas, I was drawn back to the dramatic cliffs and the Rock Nuthatches, with the latter offering a real challenge to my camera. I only ever found the nuthatches in the morning, when the west-facing cliffs were still in shadow. Evening visits, when the light would have been perfect for taking pictures, never produced a single sighting of a nuthatch. One morning the Nuthatches did co-operate, even perching on prickly pear to have their photographs taken, though at long range (see last week’s post, Birding the Peloponnese I). It was some days later that I finally managed to get a satisfactory shot of one in sunshine.
Hooded Crows were seen daily, but only in small numbers
One morning at the cliffs I witnessed a successful Peregrine hunt. As I got out my car I spotted a pair of sparrows flying by. A fraction of a second later a stooping tiercel (male Peregrine) appeared, successfully grabbing one of the sparrows. The Peregrine flew back to the top of the cliff with his small prize, where he was greeted noisily by the falcon (female Peregrine), a noticeably bigger bird. Her crop was full, so she much have already fed. I later managed to find one of the pair perched on a prickly pear, high on the cliff top, surveying its territory (below). Incidentally, it’s quite usual, for a pair of Peregrines to remain together on their breeding territory throughout the year. I saw the birds several more times, but didn’t witness any more hunting.
Hunting Peregrine, high above the cliffs
The Peregrine surveying his territory
Look carefully and you will see that these are Spanish Sparrows. They were very shy
The identity of the sparrow the Peregrine caught was debatable. It was most likely a Spanish Sparrow, as small parties of these birds were often to be seen flying along the base of the cliffs in tight groups, behaviour which is so characteristic of Passer hispaniolensis. They were shy and rarely sat long enough to be identified, let alone photographed. I did grab a single shot (above) which was sufficient to confirm their identity.
Crag Martins are altitudinal migrants
On several evening visits I saw Crag Martins, but curiously they never appeared in the mornings. These chunky martins are altitudinal migrants, moving down from the mountains to winter along the coast. They exceedingly rare vagrants to the UK, so, for an Englishman, they are always pleasing to see.
Plain Tigers, or African Monarchs, were by far the most numerous butterflies along the coast
When the birds fail to perform, I turn to butterflies. The autumn isn’t, of course, a great time to see them, but there were sufficient to keep me interested. By far the commonest species was the Plain Tiger, also known as the African Monarch because of its similarity to the American Monarch. It’s a big, handsome species that I know well from Africa, where it is common and widely distributed, but I’d only encountered it a couple of times before in Europe, once in Sardinia, and once in Kefalonia. These butterflies are powerful migrants, and it seems likely that the individuals I was seeing were migrants from North Africa. However, I did observe mating pairs, and it is quite possible that these handsome butterflies may have colonized this southern part of the Peloponnese.
Geranium Bronze, an introduced species from South Africa that has only recently colonised Greece
I was also interested to see Geranium Bronze butterflies, tiny insects that are easy to overlook. Like the Plain Tiger, they are an African species. They were first introduced accidentally to the Balearic island of Majorca in the late 1980s, arriving with imported geraniums (Pelargoniums), the caterpillar’s food plant. Since then they have spread rapidly, and can now be found all around the Mediterranean. My butterfly list just topped 20 species and included one lifer, the diminutive Pygmy Skipper.
Pygmy Skipper, one of Europe’s tiniest butterflies, and a lifer for me
Apart from a single Red Fox and plenty of bats that I failed to identify, I didn’t see any mammals. But most nights the local Golden Jackals put on a terrific performance, their wonderful mixture of howls, yaps and yowling barks carrying far across the hillside. Each performance only lasted for a couple of minutes, but added a touch of mystique to the warm, starry nights. In 14 days I found just 52 species of birds. A little disappointing perhaps, but I’d had fun looking, and the scenery is terrific.
Concluded
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