Christine's walking & birds blog

Greger was determined to whisk us away to the sun before the end of the northern winter, and sure enough "whisk" was the word as, with a tail-wind and a half-empty aircraft (not to mention a female pilot!), we left Glasgow on time and landed on Gran Canaria just four hours later, twenty minutes earlier than scheduled. After a coach ride down the west coast, we checked in to our very nice room and were soon out on the promenade overlooking the sea, with sanderlings, ringed plovers, grey plovers, and little egrets all on the rocks below.

The following day we walked to the lagoon where, despite the crowd-pleasing parakeets, we preferred a close encounter with a greenshank.



Feral pigeons were another draw for undiscerning tourists, who threw them leftovers from their ice-creams. I was startled to see a whimbrel amongst the scroungers, stalking determinedly towards a pigeon which had picked up an empty cone. I didn't see it happen, but presumably the whimbrel relieved the pigeon of the cone.....



The whimbrel sidled down the cliff out of sight; but when it reappeared, a tell-tale bulge in its throat suggested that it had swallowed the cone whole.


A singing Sardinian warbler was spotted on waste ground.



A flock of small, bright birds flew up from scratchy bushes and perched for a while in the open. Didn't help, though, as I hadn't a clue what they were! I did have reservations, thinking they had the hallmarks of possible cage-bird escapes. Subsequent research indicates that they were common waxbills.



"Birds of the Western Palearctic" warns of two similar species which are escaped cage birds; but our birds have neither the distinctive black tails of the black-rumped waxbill, nor the black bills of the crimson-rumped waxbill. So these are probably not escapes, but are possibly introduced birds.

In the dunes, just before a strong wind blew up filling the air with sand and leading to our hasty retreat, a shrike was spotted near the path ahead.



The shrike was singing a rather squeaky song, but all at once this changed to a "chek!" alarm-call; and we looked up to see a kestrel cruising overhead. We walked on, but the shrike flew past us and landed on some low bushes - when we realised there was a second bird present. Perhaps they were nesting there.
(Later: I first thought this was a southern grey shrike - Canaries race (Lanius meridionalis koenigi) but I'm not sure now. There is also a desert grey shrike. I think I'll just leave it as a grey shrike! 

A bird that I would like to have seen better was the Canaries race blue tit - Parus caeruleus teneriffae.
I got my first glimpse in one of the palm trees in the grounds of the hotel, alerted by a song I didn't recognise. (Later: Again, I'm not sure. It could be the N. African race ultramarinus.) 


I saw a second bird on a visit to the capital, Las Palmas, but it was similarly active and wary, and soon disappeared (possibly because breeding).


Spanish sparrows were also to be found in the hotel grounds, and were anyone's for a scrap of food. They frequently flew into the one of the restaurants and helped themselves to sweetcorn and dessert.


Another guest at the hotel, seeing me watching birds, told me that a hoopoe sometimes flew in to feed on the lawns. I assumed he meant early in the morning, but one day when we were lying in the sun by the pool, a hoopoe came swooping over low and landed near the path.


After creeping towards it with my camera, using palm trees as cover, I realised that people's feet were appearing in the frame and that, in fact, one couple had stopped and were looking down at the bird. I felt such a fool, that I retreated - but I got another chance on a walk later, when a hoopoe suddenly appeared on a low wall. Rather than try a close shot, though, I took Greger and the bird together.


The Canary chiffchaff was everywhere, and less wary than the ones we'd encountered on Tenerife.


Tenerife is known to be a relatively bird-poor island, so the varied bird life on Gran Canaria was a pleasant surprise. On both islands, though, Berthelot's pipit is supposed to be common, so by the last day I was fretting that I hadn't seen one on either island. And then a pale, leggy bird on waste ground looked promising. (I say "waste ground", but this open, dusty area with scrubby bushes - so alluring to a birder - is probably going to be developed.)


        
Looking at all the pictures I could find, I wasn't sure it was a Berthelot's pipit to begin with, and kept getting hung up on Richard's pipit, as its legginess and long hind claw seemed more indicative of that species.

We used all the pools, but specially liked this one, right by our room; like the others, it was a straightforward, rectangular pool that you could swim in - just a little less busy than the main pool area.