We know, and we apologize. We haven’t appeared on the blog for months now. Now, it’s not as an excuse, but rather as information, that we can tell you we have been very busy working on a new Birding In Spain Tour brochure, and a great competition where prizes can be won every month. Additionally, there will be a Big Year Prize at the end of those 12 months, with the option of winning a place on one of our Wonderful Winter Tours Winter wallcreeper tour info (1) to take place in 2019 or 2012.
Want to know more? Then get in touch via e-mail, or follow Birding In Spain on Facebook. There will be competition announcements on Twitter and Instagram, as well as on this blog.
Taken from Flying over the Pyrenees, standing on the plains
A loose group of females is standing nearby; they are idly pecking at the grass and feigning disinterest as only females can. Nevertheless, the Great Bustard’s hormones are doing their relentless work on his body and, incapable of ignoring their dictates the male prepares himself for action. First of all he makes use of a series of strange gulps and exhalations to inflate his gular pouch into a large, dangling balloon; then he forces his head back onto his mantle while aiming the whiskers on his chin directly up at the sky in front of his eyes; simultaneously he tilts his body upwards and cocks his fanned out tail forward to almost touch his back-thrusted head; then he stretches his wings downwards and backwards from the shoulders, twisting them to show much white, previously hidden from view. Possessed and drivenhe begins to trample his feet rhythmically and rotates his whole body from side to side, causing his oversized gular pouch to swing about wildly. In a matter of seconds this huge, respectable bird has ballooned itself into an enormous, streaky white marshmallow.
In a matter of seconds this huge, respectable bird has ballooned itself into an enormous, streaky white marshmallow.
Taken from Flying over the Pyrenees, standing on the plains
It wasn’t long before a bird flew up from under someone’s feet and drifted silently to rest in the shade of a nearby pine tree. Duly beckoned with urgent gestures and whispers the clients all gathered round, Kevin at the forefront, and with raised binoculars we all stood in silent admiration of a Red-necked Nightjar’s beautiful, intricately patterned plumage. Perhaps it was a minute, perhaps two, as the bird sat stiller than a sentinel, surveying us with the merest slit of an opened eye before taking flight once more, aware that its cloak of invisibility had slipped from its mantle.
Red-necked nightjar
No-one could resist another look, and so we were all enticed to follow our reluctant star a little further. I strode forward with the rest, but then something halted me in my tracks: there concealed in the dip between two hummocks and the edge of the pinewood I saw a parked car, and two figures quickly separating. My first instinct was to display a knowing grin, but a flash of recognition wiped it instantly from my face. I knew both members of the couple, and also that both were married to partners other than the one they had obviously been embracing. They were parents of children who went to the same school as my sons. Out here! In the middle of my Red-necked Nightjar site! Who would have guessed? I crouched down and backed off as quickly and surreptitiously as I could, clenching my teeth and praying that they had not seen me.