The sun and wind are out in force again this morning but, using the van as a shelter, Jim spends about three hours sea watching. There isn't a great deal of anything in particular, more a steady trickle including five shearwaters at some distance, puffins, gannets, sandwich terns and two skuas, which seem to be small and medium sized but, again, at too great a distance for positive identification.
Ria d'Aveiro
The Ria d'Aveiro comprises a 6,000 ha tidal lagoon and a network of channels, many of them clogged by rushes and eelgrass. Although the lagoon has a large fish population, excessive algal growth prevents it being exploited. Instead, the seaweed itself is harvested for fertiliser and production reached 150,000 tonnes a year in the 1970s. The lagoon is separated from the sea by a long narrow strip of sand, much of which is cultivated, either as small-holdings or maritime pine plantation. Some 700 ha near the southern tip has been designated a nature reserve and includes pine forest with a heronry comprising about 400 little and cattle egret nests.
It is high tide when we arrive in the area, the wind has dropped and the water is like a millpond, inhabited by thousands of gulls. There is only a narrow channel for water to flow out into the ocean and so the tide recedes quite slowly. As mudflats are exposed, waders begin to appear: grey plover and redshank being the noisiest, but also good numbers of godwit, dunlin, etc. The area has lost its importance for other species of waterfowl because of disturbance: hunting pressure is severe in winter.
We find a place to park for the night in an area of mature forest. Crested tits and wrens call in the trees. Blackbirds here seem to have a rather metallic call. A barn owl flies over a couple of times, commuting between farmland and saltmarsh.
28 Dec 2008
30th Dec 1988 - Portugal
We cross into Portugal at Tui, to find ourselves on roads of bumpy brick cobbles. There are plenty of police around, carrying radios and other equipment and looking as though they are doing radar checks, but I cannot imagine anybody going over the speed limit on this kind of road. Fortunately there is a good tarmac surface after the first few kilometres.
The main road more or less follows the coast, being bordered on the inland side by mountains. This coastal strip gradually widens and is intensively cultivated by hand for fruit and vegetables which are often sold along the roadside. Donkey and cattle‑drawn carts are not uncommon on the roads, but it seems that only the main highway has a tarmac surface, all other roads were sand or stone.
We find ourselves a quiet beach by which to spend the night, and are watched carefully by a little owl as we go about our evening's business
The main road more or less follows the coast, being bordered on the inland side by mountains. This coastal strip gradually widens and is intensively cultivated by hand for fruit and vegetables which are often sold along the roadside. Donkey and cattle‑drawn carts are not uncommon on the roads, but it seems that only the main highway has a tarmac surface, all other roads were sand or stone.
We find ourselves a quiet beach by which to spend the night, and are watched carefully by a little owl as we go about our evening's business
30th Dec 1988 - Rio Minho
The Rio Miño, or Minho if you are in Portugal (it is pronounced the same), forms part of the northern border between the two countries. As we drive through A Guarda on the Spanish side, Jim notices a sign indicating 'observatorio ornitologia', so we take a look.
At the end of a stony track we find an area of saltmarsh and fresh-water marsh with some scrub and phragmites, and a hide on stilts overlooking the estuary. After three days of hot sun, today is quite cold and the easterly wind funnelling through the hide turns it into a refrigerator, we do not stay there for long. The sun and its reflection are shining into the hide and making it difficult to see anything.
A kingfisher flies along the water's edge, stopping every few metres to hover and look into the water for prey. There are no branches or posts for it to use as hunting look‑outs, and we are impressed by the length of time it spends in each hover. Hovering may be a more energetic way of hunting, but it is considerably more successful, presumably because the bird can choose where to hover instead of making do with wherever a perch happens to be.
There is a pair of yellow‑legged herring gulls doing a parallel walk along the shore. They mostly walk side by side, but if one bird runs a short distance, the other runs to catch up. Then they start to peck at the ground, pulling hard at short vegetation ‑ when one bird pulls a stalk free, it loses its balance and almost falls over. One of the birds then gathers up a large beakful of vegetation, carries it a metre or so, and arranges it on the ground before sitting on it. Then it rearranges other nearby material, pulling some closer. Meanwhile the other bird walks over to the water and appears to drink, the bird from the 'nest' does the same. Then both birds swim off without further ceremony.
At the end of a stony track we find an area of saltmarsh and fresh-water marsh with some scrub and phragmites, and a hide on stilts overlooking the estuary. After three days of hot sun, today is quite cold and the easterly wind funnelling through the hide turns it into a refrigerator, we do not stay there for long. The sun and its reflection are shining into the hide and making it difficult to see anything.
A kingfisher flies along the water's edge, stopping every few metres to hover and look into the water for prey. There are no branches or posts for it to use as hunting look‑outs, and we are impressed by the length of time it spends in each hover. Hovering may be a more energetic way of hunting, but it is considerably more successful, presumably because the bird can choose where to hover instead of making do with wherever a perch happens to be.
There is a pair of yellow‑legged herring gulls doing a parallel walk along the shore. They mostly walk side by side, but if one bird runs a short distance, the other runs to catch up. Then they start to peck at the ground, pulling hard at short vegetation ‑ when one bird pulls a stalk free, it loses its balance and almost falls over. One of the birds then gathers up a large beakful of vegetation, carries it a metre or so, and arranges it on the ground before sitting on it. Then it rearranges other nearby material, pulling some closer. Meanwhile the other bird walks over to the water and appears to drink, the bird from the 'nest' does the same. Then both birds swim off without further ceremony.
29th Dec 1988
We awake to another day of warm sun ‑ an English couple we met yesterday told us it is not usually this hot at Christmas. On the hill above the Cape and there was broken ground with low growing gorse and heather between lumps of metamorphic rock. The place was alive with birds of the same species as yesterday, including a couple of rock buntings giving the weak nuthatch-like call we had heard before seeing the first one a week ago.
A cart track leads down the hill and through pasture land. Our attention is taken by some small lizards running over nearby rocks, apparently preferring the vertical surfaces to the horizontal ones. Consultation with the reptiles and amphibians book suggested that we were seeing two forms of the common wall lizard, but it also warned that north‑west Iberia is one of the most confusing places for small lizards because, although there are only four species, they are all very variable and can often look alike.
Further along the track Jim finds a bird which, through the binoculars, looks like a whitethroat with a cocked tail. Then we see through the telescope that it has a red eye ring ‑ a female Sardinian warbler some hundred kilometres from where the book says it should be. Its range is thought to be linked with the distribution of olive groves, and as olive growing has spread, so have the birds. It skulks along the bottom of a wall and then goes under a hedge, not allowing us to observe much more.
We normally try to avoid towns and villages, but the track takes us through a community that is not nearly as tightly packed as those we have seen in the mountains. There are small fields between houses, and along the stream are communal laundry troughs. We haven't seen donkeys or mules since leaving the mountains but here people have small herds of livestock ‑ which might include cattle, horses, goats, and sheep with young lambs ‑ grazing the roadside or open country. This being school holiday time, often children are left tending these flocks.
A cart track leads down the hill and through pasture land. Our attention is taken by some small lizards running over nearby rocks, apparently preferring the vertical surfaces to the horizontal ones. Consultation with the reptiles and amphibians book suggested that we were seeing two forms of the common wall lizard, but it also warned that north‑west Iberia is one of the most confusing places for small lizards because, although there are only four species, they are all very variable and can often look alike.
Further along the track Jim finds a bird which, through the binoculars, looks like a whitethroat with a cocked tail. Then we see through the telescope that it has a red eye ring ‑ a female Sardinian warbler some hundred kilometres from where the book says it should be. Its range is thought to be linked with the distribution of olive groves, and as olive growing has spread, so have the birds. It skulks along the bottom of a wall and then goes under a hedge, not allowing us to observe much more.
We normally try to avoid towns and villages, but the track takes us through a community that is not nearly as tightly packed as those we have seen in the mountains. There are small fields between houses, and along the stream are communal laundry troughs. We haven't seen donkeys or mules since leaving the mountains but here people have small herds of livestock ‑ which might include cattle, horses, goats, and sheep with young lambs ‑ grazing the roadside or open country. This being school holiday time, often children are left tending these flocks.
28th Dec 1988
Hundreds of yellow-legged herring gulls roost on the rocks a few metres offshore. Their leg colour actually ranges light to dark yellow with some peachy ones in between. A few birds have pink legs: these were probably British or French birds wintering here in warmer climes.
In comparing the two types, we think some of the dark yellow-legged ones had very slightly darker grey backs, otherwise there seemed no obvious differences. This was at odds with the books, which tell us that the Iberian and Mediterranean birds should be larger and darker than British ones. Something is different about them though, perhaps because their heads do not have much grey streaking in winter, and they have a dark orange or red eye ring instead of the yellow or paler orange of the 'British' herring gull, so the eye looks more distinct.
Of the twenty or so birds loafing on a large rock, one stands on a boulder and called several times, sounding like a 'cat's chorus'. Another bird lands nearby on the same boulder. The first bird stares at its own feet; the second bird started a 'long call', the first bird joins in then chases the second bird away. This performance is repeated twice more.
As well as more very dark black redstarts, there are rock buntings on the rocks, the orange of their belly blending in well with the orange lichens. Turnstones are common and there are two purple sandpipers. Dunlin, oystercatcher and whimbrel passed by. The rubbish by the road attracts flies, and stonechats are flying out from favourite perches to catch them.
We have been looking for fan‑tailed warblers since the west coast of France but were told that a succession of bad winters had almost wiped them out there. Here there are at least two, so distinctive in jizz as to be easily recognised. They have a hesitant flight pattern with the body held at an angle and the largish tail held almost vertically below the body ‑ it looks quite a struggle for them to stay airborne. They quickly disappear into the vegetation, but we see them later perched out on a bush, flicking their tails and telling us 'zit‑zit'. Like the stonechats they are flying out to catch insects on the wing.
Although the field guide says that fan‑tails inhabit marshes and crops, these birds are in gorse scrub along the coast, as are wrens, robins, serins, dartford warblers and chiffchaffs, the last apparently stalking flies along the old stone walls.
There were a few plants in flower, mostly compositae and legumes.
In comparing the two types, we think some of the dark yellow-legged ones had very slightly darker grey backs, otherwise there seemed no obvious differences. This was at odds with the books, which tell us that the Iberian and Mediterranean birds should be larger and darker than British ones. Something is different about them though, perhaps because their heads do not have much grey streaking in winter, and they have a dark orange or red eye ring instead of the yellow or paler orange of the 'British' herring gull, so the eye looks more distinct.
Of the twenty or so birds loafing on a large rock, one stands on a boulder and called several times, sounding like a 'cat's chorus'. Another bird lands nearby on the same boulder. The first bird stares at its own feet; the second bird started a 'long call', the first bird joins in then chases the second bird away. This performance is repeated twice more.
As well as more very dark black redstarts, there are rock buntings on the rocks, the orange of their belly blending in well with the orange lichens. Turnstones are common and there are two purple sandpipers. Dunlin, oystercatcher and whimbrel passed by. The rubbish by the road attracts flies, and stonechats are flying out from favourite perches to catch them.
We have been looking for fan‑tailed warblers since the west coast of France but were told that a succession of bad winters had almost wiped them out there. Here there are at least two, so distinctive in jizz as to be easily recognised. They have a hesitant flight pattern with the body held at an angle and the largish tail held almost vertically below the body ‑ it looks quite a struggle for them to stay airborne. They quickly disappear into the vegetation, but we see them later perched out on a bush, flicking their tails and telling us 'zit‑zit'. Like the stonechats they are flying out to catch insects on the wing.
Although the field guide says that fan‑tails inhabit marshes and crops, these birds are in gorse scrub along the coast, as are wrens, robins, serins, dartford warblers and chiffchaffs, the last apparently stalking flies along the old stone walls.
There were a few plants in flower, mostly compositae and legumes.
27th Dec 1988
We awake to a very misty morning and do not see the sun until early afternoon when the road takes us above 500m. At the Puerta del Fuenifria at 800m the mist is still hanging low in the valleys ahead with the hilltops in sunshine.
In the gorse on the slope in front of us there are dartford warblers, robins, wrens and dunnocks ‑ a paler race of the latter here than in Britain. The scene is marred by the Spanish habit of dumping rubbish by the roadside anywhere there is room to stop a car. Many small communities do designate a special area for tipping and large community rubbish bins are usually provided, but it only solves part of the problem. Litter, in particular, does not seem to be considered as something to be put in rubbish bins!
Cabo Silliero
We reach the Atlantic coast again at A Ramellosa in warm sunshine that would not have been out of place in Britain in May. A roost of gulls on the beach consists mainly of black-headed adults (only two first winter birds) and herring gulls with a wide variety of leg colour in the adults. With them are a handful each of turnstone, dunlin, oystercatcher, grey plover and two golden plover. Two green sandpipers peck their way along the edge of a grassy area in front of us.
The coast road around Cabo Silliero has recently been widened and straightened, leaving a number of 'laybys' of the old road, at least one of which is suitable for us to stop for the night. A few kilometres offshore we could see the Islas Cies, a parque natural with the most southerly colony of lesser black‑backed gulls, the largest shag colony in Iberia, and guillemots which are on the verge of extinction. Being on the southern edge of their range, the guillemots were vulnerable anyway, but the problem here is thought to be human ‑ the dumping of oil etc., and competition in fishing areas.
In the gorse on the slope in front of us there are dartford warblers, robins, wrens and dunnocks ‑ a paler race of the latter here than in Britain. The scene is marred by the Spanish habit of dumping rubbish by the roadside anywhere there is room to stop a car. Many small communities do designate a special area for tipping and large community rubbish bins are usually provided, but it only solves part of the problem. Litter, in particular, does not seem to be considered as something to be put in rubbish bins!
Cabo Silliero
We reach the Atlantic coast again at A Ramellosa in warm sunshine that would not have been out of place in Britain in May. A roost of gulls on the beach consists mainly of black-headed adults (only two first winter birds) and herring gulls with a wide variety of leg colour in the adults. With them are a handful each of turnstone, dunlin, oystercatcher, grey plover and two golden plover. Two green sandpipers peck their way along the edge of a grassy area in front of us.
The coast road around Cabo Silliero has recently been widened and straightened, leaving a number of 'laybys' of the old road, at least one of which is suitable for us to stop for the night. A few kilometres offshore we could see the Islas Cies, a parque natural with the most southerly colony of lesser black‑backed gulls, the largest shag colony in Iberia, and guillemots which are on the verge of extinction. Being on the southern edge of their range, the guillemots were vulnerable anyway, but the problem here is thought to be human ‑ the dumping of oil etc., and competition in fishing areas.
26th Dec 1988 - Rio Sil
We continue south‑west generally following the Rio Sil which has been dammed in many places for H.E.P. Some of the reservoirs are quite low ‑ waiting for the winter snow and rain. Then the bright limestone mountains give way to a rather murky grey area dominated by coal mining and coal dust. The grey rock, bare trees and early morning gloom added to the atmosphere.
The mist gets thicker and thicker, the road passes along viaducts and tunnels - though it is hard to tell which are which - through the mountains. We come out of a third tunnel into brilliant sunshine and a lush landscape of pines, broom and vineyards, the hills are still big but rounded and red. Somewhere here we surprise a small covey of grey partridge on the road ‑ they are found in only a relatively small area of north west Spain.
It is lunch‑time as we come across a car park next to a small reservoir. A cetti's warbler calls from the vegetation, and a pair of rock buntings forage in the crevices of an exposed patch of slate.
The Rio Sil flows through a gorge for some kilometres before it joins the Rio Miño, and the road takes a detour through Monforte. The road joins the Miño and follows the gorge of that river, winding steeply downhill to Orense. The steep slopes were either well wooded or terraced for cultivation, and the low level of water in many of the reservoirs show more terraces that have been drowned. These river valleys still form the main communications routes of the area, and must have supported a fairly dense human population to make the building of terraces worthwhile. It seems a shame that so many have been destroyed by the creation of the reservoirs. A few mallard are all that we saw on the water.
We find an open campsite between the vineyards at Leiro, and spend most of the remaining daylight watching siskins doing acrobatics while feeding on the seeds of oriental plane trees. Over the rocks of a distant hill Jim picks out crag martins ‑ just about visible through the telescope.
The mist gets thicker and thicker, the road passes along viaducts and tunnels - though it is hard to tell which are which - through the mountains. We come out of a third tunnel into brilliant sunshine and a lush landscape of pines, broom and vineyards, the hills are still big but rounded and red. Somewhere here we surprise a small covey of grey partridge on the road ‑ they are found in only a relatively small area of north west Spain.
It is lunch‑time as we come across a car park next to a small reservoir. A cetti's warbler calls from the vegetation, and a pair of rock buntings forage in the crevices of an exposed patch of slate.
The Rio Sil flows through a gorge for some kilometres before it joins the Rio Miño, and the road takes a detour through Monforte. The road joins the Miño and follows the gorge of that river, winding steeply downhill to Orense. The steep slopes were either well wooded or terraced for cultivation, and the low level of water in many of the reservoirs show more terraces that have been drowned. These river valleys still form the main communications routes of the area, and must have supported a fairly dense human population to make the building of terraces worthwhile. It seems a shame that so many have been destroyed by the creation of the reservoirs. A few mallard are all that we saw on the water.
We find an open campsite between the vineyards at Leiro, and spend most of the remaining daylight watching siskins doing acrobatics while feeding on the seeds of oriental plane trees. Over the rocks of a distant hill Jim picks out crag martins ‑ just about visible through the telescope.
25th Dec 1988 - Somiedo
There are many more places that we could visit in the Cordillera Cantabrica: the Reserva Nacional de Fuentes Carrionas, el Bierzo, el Bosque de Muniellos, Parque Nacional de Covadonga, the Reserva Nacional del Sueve, and many others are all known for their wildness and natural history. But the mountains are really a summer area, with some 600 species of plant and 130 of butterflies in the haymeadows alone. The higher areas are decidedly cold now, though not as bitter as the Netherlands. We have enjoyed the unexpected opportunity to explore them, but now it is time to move on.
We choose a route that will cut off the north‑west corner of Iberia, but would take us through the Reserva Nacional de Somiedo. This area is the local stronghold of the brown bear. The absence of roads through the area has helped to protect the species, but not prevented their decline ‑ from about seventy in 1962 to less than thirty in the early 1970s ‑ numbers are thought to be stable now at about 30 individuals. Red and roe deer are also to be found here, along with chamois and wild boar, and the Cantabrican race of the capercaillie. All remain out of our sight.
The road follows south along the Rio Piguena, through a patchwork of forest and heathland scrub communities, then through mountains of contorted limestone up to the Puerto de Somiedo at 1500 metres. There is little wildlife to be seen anywhere. Just south of the Pass a whole village is shuttered up for winter, the inhabitants having taken their livestock off the hills for the shelter of the valleys. The house martins had deserted their homes in an earlier season.
We choose a route that will cut off the north‑west corner of Iberia, but would take us through the Reserva Nacional de Somiedo. This area is the local stronghold of the brown bear. The absence of roads through the area has helped to protect the species, but not prevented their decline ‑ from about seventy in 1962 to less than thirty in the early 1970s ‑ numbers are thought to be stable now at about 30 individuals. Red and roe deer are also to be found here, along with chamois and wild boar, and the Cantabrican race of the capercaillie. All remain out of our sight.
The road follows south along the Rio Piguena, through a patchwork of forest and heathland scrub communities, then through mountains of contorted limestone up to the Puerto de Somiedo at 1500 metres. There is little wildlife to be seen anywhere. Just south of the Pass a whole village is shuttered up for winter, the inhabitants having taken their livestock off the hills for the shelter of the valleys. The house martins had deserted their homes in an earlier season.
25th Dec 1988 - Spanish Christmas
This morning we watch a dipper as it stands on a stone in the river below and sings for a while. Its beak hardly moves but it pumps hard with its throat to make an attractive warble. Like many birds that hold winter territories, it sings year round, and the females sing too. This was the bird song we had been unable to identify two days ago.
Then the dipper takes to feeding. Looking almost straight down we can see it flying underwater and poking around stones etc. Sometimes it allows itself to be carried along in the current, then disappears underwater and reappears on a rock upstream. Apart from a short preening session, it feeds almost non-stop for an hour.
Another dipper flies in, giving a contact call as it lands a few metres downstream. The first bird, which is standing on a rock, immediately stiffens, and adopts a more upright posture, with bill pointing skywards, dropped wingtips, and tail lowered and fanned. We can’t hear any calls. The intruding bird looks as though it was going to walk into the water, but changes its mind and flies off. The first bird relaxed and resumed feeding.
Back in Arena de Cabrales, we stop by the river and watch white and grey wagtails, dipper, black-birds, robins, song thrush, magpies, buzzards etc. A very dark red squirrel carries some prize in its mouth as it goes along the riverbank and up into an ivy‑covered tree. Great tits are singing noisily.
We are quite surprised to be able to by bread and fuel on Christmas Day, but life seems to go on as any normal Sunday and there are few trappings of Christmas as we know it. A few houses have lighted Christmas trees on their porches and there are a few coachloads of people going to church. The main celebrations of Christmas will take place on January 6th, the day that the three kings brought gifts for Jesus, and so here, too, gifts are exchanged on that date. There seems relatively little commercialisation of the season, though we are told that things are changing, especially in the cities.
Then the dipper takes to feeding. Looking almost straight down we can see it flying underwater and poking around stones etc. Sometimes it allows itself to be carried along in the current, then disappears underwater and reappears on a rock upstream. Apart from a short preening session, it feeds almost non-stop for an hour.
Another dipper flies in, giving a contact call as it lands a few metres downstream. The first bird, which is standing on a rock, immediately stiffens, and adopts a more upright posture, with bill pointing skywards, dropped wingtips, and tail lowered and fanned. We can’t hear any calls. The intruding bird looks as though it was going to walk into the water, but changes its mind and flies off. The first bird relaxed and resumed feeding.
Back in Arena de Cabrales, we stop by the river and watch white and grey wagtails, dipper, black-birds, robins, song thrush, magpies, buzzards etc. A very dark red squirrel carries some prize in its mouth as it goes along the riverbank and up into an ivy‑covered tree. Great tits are singing noisily.
We are quite surprised to be able to by bread and fuel on Christmas Day, but life seems to go on as any normal Sunday and there are few trappings of Christmas as we know it. A few houses have lighted Christmas trees on their porches and there are a few coachloads of people going to church. The main celebrations of Christmas will take place on January 6th, the day that the three kings brought gifts for Jesus, and so here, too, gifts are exchanged on that date. There seems relatively little commercialisation of the season, though we are told that things are changing, especially in the cities.
24th Dec 1988 - Garganta del Cares
The day starts off quite cold and we are almost glad there are few birds about ‑ the brisk walking soon warms us up. We don’t expect to cover the whole twelve kilometres at our normal birdwatching speed and decide that we will turn back at 3 pm, regardless of the distance covered, to ensure we are back on the good road by dusk.
The original mule track has long fallen into disrepair - in places we can look down and see it crumbling or covered with scree. The track used now follows an aqueduct serving the small hydro-electric power (H.E.P.) station at Poncebos. It is well maintained, though in places it is made of sharp bits of rock. From Poncebos the track climbs 200 metres fairly rapidly and then more or less follows the level of the aqueduct.
Birds of any sort prove few and far between, mainly wrens and robins, and an occasional vulture or raven overhead. The sheer, vertical cliffs, rising to over two thousand metres in places, are said to be a favourite haunt of the wallcreeper. We look hard, for it is an attractive bird that we both want to see, but there is no sign of any today.
The National Game Preserve of the Picos de Europa occupies most of the central massif and holds some 2,000 chamois. The game preserve itself dates from 1970, however the area had already been put under protection in 1905 to protect the chamois. During the civil war the Picos became an area of guerilla warfare and the chamois were slaughtered for food by both sides.
In 1940 numbers were thought to have been reduced to sixty animals, and hunting was forbidden for eight years to allow the species to recover. There was restricted hunting in the early fifties, then it was banned again until 1963. Today hunting is allowed during September, October and November by permit only.
The single chamois that we see on the pastures way above the track is probably a male, since they tend to live solitarily while the females and youngsters generally form small herds.
There are no towns or villages inside the game preserve, and human activity is traditionally confined to raising cattle, hunting, and, since the last century, mining. The cattle, sheep and goats are kept indoors during the winter and taken to the high pastures in May. Their milk is turned into cheese, which is cured in caves and taken down to market shortly before the snow made transport impossible.
As we scan these high pastures for more chamois, a call which sounds like a raptor catches our attention and we spend the best part of the next three hours looking for the caller. There are at least two birds involved, each with two calls, and they move along the valley well below the path. In another season I would have said there was a youngster calling for food and then using an excitement call when the food arrived. The main call was pi-oooo and the second one a low pitched cackling.
After studying B.W.P. this evening we decide on sparrowhawk as a likely candidate: we know they were around and had seen them in the valley bottoms. Their relatively small size would allow them to perch unseen by us, and to fly inconspicuously ‑ small birds flying through were quickly lost against the background of broken rock, grass, small trees, etc. But for the time being the noise must remain a mystery.
Although we complete probably only half the walk, we are well able to appreciate the beauty and grandeur of the gorge. The cliffs often fall 100m or more straight below us and went several hundred more straight up. Jim walks on the rock side of the path, daring to look down only when standing still. If we go further, the path crosses the gorge twice on iron foot‑bridges and in some places goes inside the mountain itself. Below us the ice-clear water of the Cares flows noisily towards Poncebos.
The sun has been shining all day on the mountain tops but at this time of year it does not penetrate far down the gorge, and dusk lasts a long time. As we head back to Poncebos, groups of siskin fly past; they disappear into the rocks presumably to roost in crevices.
The original mule track has long fallen into disrepair - in places we can look down and see it crumbling or covered with scree. The track used now follows an aqueduct serving the small hydro-electric power (H.E.P.) station at Poncebos. It is well maintained, though in places it is made of sharp bits of rock. From Poncebos the track climbs 200 metres fairly rapidly and then more or less follows the level of the aqueduct.
Birds of any sort prove few and far between, mainly wrens and robins, and an occasional vulture or raven overhead. The sheer, vertical cliffs, rising to over two thousand metres in places, are said to be a favourite haunt of the wallcreeper. We look hard, for it is an attractive bird that we both want to see, but there is no sign of any today.
The National Game Preserve of the Picos de Europa occupies most of the central massif and holds some 2,000 chamois. The game preserve itself dates from 1970, however the area had already been put under protection in 1905 to protect the chamois. During the civil war the Picos became an area of guerilla warfare and the chamois were slaughtered for food by both sides.
In 1940 numbers were thought to have been reduced to sixty animals, and hunting was forbidden for eight years to allow the species to recover. There was restricted hunting in the early fifties, then it was banned again until 1963. Today hunting is allowed during September, October and November by permit only.
The single chamois that we see on the pastures way above the track is probably a male, since they tend to live solitarily while the females and youngsters generally form small herds.
There are no towns or villages inside the game preserve, and human activity is traditionally confined to raising cattle, hunting, and, since the last century, mining. The cattle, sheep and goats are kept indoors during the winter and taken to the high pastures in May. Their milk is turned into cheese, which is cured in caves and taken down to market shortly before the snow made transport impossible.
As we scan these high pastures for more chamois, a call which sounds like a raptor catches our attention and we spend the best part of the next three hours looking for the caller. There are at least two birds involved, each with two calls, and they move along the valley well below the path. In another season I would have said there was a youngster calling for food and then using an excitement call when the food arrived. The main call was pi-oooo and the second one a low pitched cackling.
After studying B.W.P. this evening we decide on sparrowhawk as a likely candidate: we know they were around and had seen them in the valley bottoms. Their relatively small size would allow them to perch unseen by us, and to fly inconspicuously ‑ small birds flying through were quickly lost against the background of broken rock, grass, small trees, etc. But for the time being the noise must remain a mystery.
Although we complete probably only half the walk, we are well able to appreciate the beauty and grandeur of the gorge. The cliffs often fall 100m or more straight below us and went several hundred more straight up. Jim walks on the rock side of the path, daring to look down only when standing still. If we go further, the path crosses the gorge twice on iron foot‑bridges and in some places goes inside the mountain itself. Below us the ice-clear water of the Cares flows noisily towards Poncebos.
The sun has been shining all day on the mountain tops but at this time of year it does not penetrate far down the gorge, and dusk lasts a long time. As we head back to Poncebos, groups of siskin fly past; they disappear into the rocks presumably to roost in crevices.
23rd Dec 1988
According to B.W.P. the dippers here are a different race to those we see in Britain. We had not noticed any obvious differences yesterday, so this morning we have another look.
The north-west Iberian form should be dark brown on the head and have a uniform dark belly. We disagree with each other about the belly colour, though I think the light, reflected off the water, is playing tricks on us. In flight the chocolate brown head and back contrast with the dark grey of the wings and upper body.
Although dippers are generally unsociable outside the breeding season, they will congregate in a good feeding area, often a stretch of rough water, and this particular stretch was occupied by at least five birds. Usually they walk into the water off a rock, having first dipped the head in several times; at other times they dive straight in from the air.
The tourist office in Arenas de Cabrales is open and the information officer gives us a few leaflets, including one in English about the National Game Preserves of the Picos de Europa and of Sueve. He is also able to tell us that the weather forecast for the next few days is good and there should be no problems with camping in the mountains.
We stock up with groceries then leave the main road to follow the Rio Cares upstream to the hamlet of Poncebos in the Picos. The limestone scenery becomes more spectacular as the narrow road takes us along an ever narrowing gorge. Somewhere down below us a bird is singing, but we don’t recognise the song.
The Picos comprises three limestone massifs separated from one another by steep gorges. The central massif is said to be the wildest, and steepest, and the most awe‑inspiring. It includes a number of peaks over 2,600 metres, of which the star is Naranjo de Bulnes. Although not the highest point of the massif, this almost conical block of limestone seems to tower above the landscape, it was not conquered by man until 1904.
From Poncebos we climbed up a steep footpath to the Mirador del Naranjo from where there was an excellent view of Naranjo de Bulnes in the distance. The few birds around include white and grey wagtails down by the river, a few tits in the trees around the farms, and a small flock of siskin passing through. Surprisingly, there are a number of plants in bloom, unfortunately I do not have plant identification books for the region and can only say that they included a gromwell and a large flowered hemp nettle type in the farmland, and a number of small flowers such as eyebright, toadflax, mountain sandwort, rock‑rose and pink in the bare rocky areas. All give testimony to the relatively sheltered and mild climate of these gorges.
The western massifs of the Picos are divided by the most spectacular gorge in the Picos, the Garganta Devina, formed by the fast‑flowing Rio Cares, and stretching for some twelve kilometres from Poncebos to Cain. Tomorrow we want to walk along the mule track that has been carved from the wall of the Garganta, high above the river. This evening we just check out where the track begins.
The north-west Iberian form should be dark brown on the head and have a uniform dark belly. We disagree with each other about the belly colour, though I think the light, reflected off the water, is playing tricks on us. In flight the chocolate brown head and back contrast with the dark grey of the wings and upper body.
Although dippers are generally unsociable outside the breeding season, they will congregate in a good feeding area, often a stretch of rough water, and this particular stretch was occupied by at least five birds. Usually they walk into the water off a rock, having first dipped the head in several times; at other times they dive straight in from the air.
The tourist office in Arenas de Cabrales is open and the information officer gives us a few leaflets, including one in English about the National Game Preserves of the Picos de Europa and of Sueve. He is also able to tell us that the weather forecast for the next few days is good and there should be no problems with camping in the mountains.
We stock up with groceries then leave the main road to follow the Rio Cares upstream to the hamlet of Poncebos in the Picos. The limestone scenery becomes more spectacular as the narrow road takes us along an ever narrowing gorge. Somewhere down below us a bird is singing, but we don’t recognise the song.
The Picos comprises three limestone massifs separated from one another by steep gorges. The central massif is said to be the wildest, and steepest, and the most awe‑inspiring. It includes a number of peaks over 2,600 metres, of which the star is Naranjo de Bulnes. Although not the highest point of the massif, this almost conical block of limestone seems to tower above the landscape, it was not conquered by man until 1904.
From Poncebos we climbed up a steep footpath to the Mirador del Naranjo from where there was an excellent view of Naranjo de Bulnes in the distance. The few birds around include white and grey wagtails down by the river, a few tits in the trees around the farms, and a small flock of siskin passing through. Surprisingly, there are a number of plants in bloom, unfortunately I do not have plant identification books for the region and can only say that they included a gromwell and a large flowered hemp nettle type in the farmland, and a number of small flowers such as eyebright, toadflax, mountain sandwort, rock‑rose and pink in the bare rocky areas. All give testimony to the relatively sheltered and mild climate of these gorges.
The western massifs of the Picos are divided by the most spectacular gorge in the Picos, the Garganta Devina, formed by the fast‑flowing Rio Cares, and stretching for some twelve kilometres from Poncebos to Cain. Tomorrow we want to walk along the mule track that has been carved from the wall of the Garganta, high above the river. This evening we just check out where the track begins.
22 Dec 2008
22nd Dec Picos de Europe
As the weather is still good we take a road along the northern edge of the Picos de Europa, following the narrow limestone gorge of the Rio Cares. As dusk falls we find a parking place ‑ the first we have seen alongside the river. At about ten o'clock I go outside the van and find the gorge bathed in the light of the full moon. It gives the limestone an ethereal luminescence and with the sound of goat bells in the fields above there is a touch of Shangri‑la about the place. We go for a moonlight walk along the road.
Dec 22
First thing this morning there is cloud on the top of the cliffs, but the bottom of the valley is clear. Down by the river and we watch dippers and grey wagtails for a while. As the cloud evaporates in the sun, griffons and buzzards soar overhead. On the high rocks another griffon sits on a pile of vegetation, holding his wings out for the warmth of the sun and showing off the dark centred coverts. Perhaps he had eaten well yesterday for he is still there when we leave at about midday. A heron flies downstream, sees us and has to work quite hard to gain height to get out of the valley without coming any closer to a human than absolutely necessary.
After a cup of coffee we walk back along the road. A sparrowhawk flies low over the river below and has a go at something on the rocks but the victim escapes. A sparrowhawk needs to be able to mount surprise attacks on its victims, coming at them from the cover of woodland edges, glades, copses, hedges etc. Here it has to make do with the cover of boulders along the stream.
There is a road marked Oceña 4.5 km. On a map the distance would have been more like one kilometre but the road switches back and forth to climb the almost shear rock face.
Despite the alarming changes mentioned previously, farming in these mountains is still very much small scale stuff. The workhorse is often a mule, the farmer may have a half-dozen or so cows, and forage is cut by hand in pocket-handkerchief sized fields. Some fields have small stone barns and at one of these we see a farmer who had ridden past us on his mule, seen to his cows and cleaned out the barn, and now rides back down the road with a milk churn fixed to the saddle. It is not a very profitable livelihood and the farm houses, though strongly built, tend to look in need of external care.
Another farmer arrives at his field in a truck ‑ a big vehicle for the winding mountain roads. He walks back to where we are watching through the telescope and asks if we were looking at vultures. He speaks no English but with the help of the field guide pictures (it doesn’t have Spanish bird names) we are able to converse about birds. We ask about golden and bonelli's eagles, and he says there were golden eagles in the Picos and also white eagles (bonelli's or booted or short-toed - they all have white, but none of the spanish names for eagle translates as white eagle). Rock buntings and rock sparrows are around but not rock thrush; blackbirds he knows but not ring ouzel; dippers and wagtail live down by the river; robin and wren he points out; and firecrest which he tells us sleep in crevices in rocks. He hasn't seen wall-creeper in the area but surprisingly also says no to alpine chough which we see a few hours later. Still it is nice to see that some farmers at least are aware of the creatures around them.
Some way further up this road we come upon a flatter landscape ‑ a patchwork of small terraced fields, woodland, stony broken ground and rocky outcrops. There are a number of small-bird calls, most of which we recognise, however, amongst them was a very weak nuthatch type call but different enough to make us stop and look around. Eventually Jim locates a strange bunting perched on a bare tree near a barn. It looks very much like a yellowhammer except that it has black and grey stripes on its head, and, when it turns towards us, orangy underparts. This is a male rock bunting, the only one we see in the area.
Higher still we watch two male bullfinches feeding on brambles ‑ flying up and hovering to pick off fruit that could not be reached from a nearby stem. A firecrest works its way down a tree, hovering under a leaf stalk for whatever it could find then landing briefly on a twig before going down to the next leaf.
On the highest broken ground are about a dozen alpine choughs, acting like red‑billed chough except that they are using their shorter stouter bills to poke about in quite long vegetation. Earlier we had seen some flying along the top of a ridge mobbing a kestrel.
Going back down the road we hear green woodpeckers calling loudly. There are two voices, one quite strong and the other with a sharper tinnier sound that we have heard before and we wonder if it really is a wood-pecker. This time we locate the birds and, even in the failing light, could see that the head markings are slightly different to usual, in particular there is not so much black around the eye. This is the Iberian race, which is generally greyer on the head than the main European race, and which has this tinnier sound to its call. One of the woodpeckers is on a tree trunk a short way below us. The black moustachial stripe indicates that this is a female, and she has the higher pitched voice. Most of the time she appears to be looking around and listening intently, however this may have been a head swaying movement which is used in threat and courtship displays, and which, in spring, is used to strengthen the pair bond at times of change‑over at the nest. Normally pair formation takes place in March and April, but green wood-peckers roosting in neighbouring trees may begin pairing up in November. Prospective partners give loud and frequent advertising calls from their roosting tees, especially in the morning and evening, and the calls carry for about one and a half kilometres.
Tawny owls were also calling in the dusk, somewhere up in the trees or rock crevices.
Dec 22
First thing this morning there is cloud on the top of the cliffs, but the bottom of the valley is clear. Down by the river and we watch dippers and grey wagtails for a while. As the cloud evaporates in the sun, griffons and buzzards soar overhead. On the high rocks another griffon sits on a pile of vegetation, holding his wings out for the warmth of the sun and showing off the dark centred coverts. Perhaps he had eaten well yesterday for he is still there when we leave at about midday. A heron flies downstream, sees us and has to work quite hard to gain height to get out of the valley without coming any closer to a human than absolutely necessary.
After a cup of coffee we walk back along the road. A sparrowhawk flies low over the river below and has a go at something on the rocks but the victim escapes. A sparrowhawk needs to be able to mount surprise attacks on its victims, coming at them from the cover of woodland edges, glades, copses, hedges etc. Here it has to make do with the cover of boulders along the stream.
There is a road marked Oceña 4.5 km. On a map the distance would have been more like one kilometre but the road switches back and forth to climb the almost shear rock face.
Despite the alarming changes mentioned previously, farming in these mountains is still very much small scale stuff. The workhorse is often a mule, the farmer may have a half-dozen or so cows, and forage is cut by hand in pocket-handkerchief sized fields. Some fields have small stone barns and at one of these we see a farmer who had ridden past us on his mule, seen to his cows and cleaned out the barn, and now rides back down the road with a milk churn fixed to the saddle. It is not a very profitable livelihood and the farm houses, though strongly built, tend to look in need of external care.
Another farmer arrives at his field in a truck ‑ a big vehicle for the winding mountain roads. He walks back to where we are watching through the telescope and asks if we were looking at vultures. He speaks no English but with the help of the field guide pictures (it doesn’t have Spanish bird names) we are able to converse about birds. We ask about golden and bonelli's eagles, and he says there were golden eagles in the Picos and also white eagles (bonelli's or booted or short-toed - they all have white, but none of the spanish names for eagle translates as white eagle). Rock buntings and rock sparrows are around but not rock thrush; blackbirds he knows but not ring ouzel; dippers and wagtail live down by the river; robin and wren he points out; and firecrest which he tells us sleep in crevices in rocks. He hasn't seen wall-creeper in the area but surprisingly also says no to alpine chough which we see a few hours later. Still it is nice to see that some farmers at least are aware of the creatures around them.
Some way further up this road we come upon a flatter landscape ‑ a patchwork of small terraced fields, woodland, stony broken ground and rocky outcrops. There are a number of small-bird calls, most of which we recognise, however, amongst them was a very weak nuthatch type call but different enough to make us stop and look around. Eventually Jim locates a strange bunting perched on a bare tree near a barn. It looks very much like a yellowhammer except that it has black and grey stripes on its head, and, when it turns towards us, orangy underparts. This is a male rock bunting, the only one we see in the area.
Higher still we watch two male bullfinches feeding on brambles ‑ flying up and hovering to pick off fruit that could not be reached from a nearby stem. A firecrest works its way down a tree, hovering under a leaf stalk for whatever it could find then landing briefly on a twig before going down to the next leaf.
On the highest broken ground are about a dozen alpine choughs, acting like red‑billed chough except that they are using their shorter stouter bills to poke about in quite long vegetation. Earlier we had seen some flying along the top of a ridge mobbing a kestrel.
Going back down the road we hear green woodpeckers calling loudly. There are two voices, one quite strong and the other with a sharper tinnier sound that we have heard before and we wonder if it really is a wood-pecker. This time we locate the birds and, even in the failing light, could see that the head markings are slightly different to usual, in particular there is not so much black around the eye. This is the Iberian race, which is generally greyer on the head than the main European race, and which has this tinnier sound to its call. One of the woodpeckers is on a tree trunk a short way below us. The black moustachial stripe indicates that this is a female, and she has the higher pitched voice. Most of the time she appears to be looking around and listening intently, however this may have been a head swaying movement which is used in threat and courtship displays, and which, in spring, is used to strengthen the pair bond at times of change‑over at the nest. Normally pair formation takes place in March and April, but green wood-peckers roosting in neighbouring trees may begin pairing up in November. Prospective partners give loud and frequent advertising calls from their roosting tees, especially in the morning and evening, and the calls carry for about one and a half kilometres.
Tawny owls were also calling in the dusk, somewhere up in the trees or rock crevices.
Montoto
Meeting Vicky and Andy was the climax of the chain of events which started with the mail not being ready for us, and the subsequent trips into the Cordillera to kill time ‑ we had not planned to visit the mountains, expecting there to be snow and ice blocking our way. We stopped in the village of Soncillo to buy bread and milk; the storekeeper, on realising we are English, insist that we visit an English couple in the nearby hamlet of Montoto. He gives us detailed instructions (in spanish) and is most adamant that we should go there. We decide we might as well try.
The instructions are easy to follow, and Montoto turns out to be a hamlet of a dozen or so farmhouses. We drive through it in a few seconds and stop for lunch at the side of a field. As we finish eating and are looking at birds in the field, I hear strange voices talking English. By chance the English couple have come out for a walk and taken the road we are parked on.We join them for the walk and later for coffee, discussing Britain and Spain and what we were all doing.
Vicky is Spanish but had spent the last nineteen years in London. Andy is from Yorkshire but also had spent some years in London. They had both been involved in social work, and eventually got fed up of it.They had considered buying a flat in Barcelona, then one of Vicky's relatives had mentioned cheap houses for sale in Montoto and so they changed their minds, bought a huge farmhouse and moved out to it in October. One wall of the house is believed to be at least a thousand years old, other bits having been added as required. The place had not been properly lived in for some years and it did not have much in the way of mod cons. Andy and Vicky put in a bathroom, got the kitchen stove working and organised a bedroom. They are working on the rest of the house as they have funds and time available, and may convert it into holiday flats.
The local bank manager asked if they would be interested in teaching English at the local primary school, and they accepted on the basis that the three hours or so of teaching each week would help them to keep in contact with the local community. The dozen or so students they expected turned into thirty-two of all ages and so far they have enjoyed it.
Andy is something of a spare time mechanic, and with his advice and tools we check the battery and change the oil in the camper. Neither Jim or I have any interest in things mechanical. If a vehicle doesn't work, we call out the AA or its equivalent; Europe is a civilised enough place that we could get away with it. In more sparsely populated areas people like us would soon come unstuck without being able to fix vehicles as and when necessary.Taking the battery out reveals a gaping hole in the metal it is sitting on and we may one day have found the battery falling out as we drove along. Again with Andy's help and advice, we make a tray from a bit of tin clipped from under the bonnet of an old abandoned car and get the battery bolted back in safely. We get quite a buzz of achievement out of it.
All this takes us two afternoons of half working, half bird‑watching and half talking. We take them out for a meal, to a place they had recommended. The food and drink is cheap ‑ by British standards ‑ but good. It is a bit strange to have a bigger first course than second course but there is plenty of bread and wine to go with it all.
Twice we go with Vicky to the local diary farm for fresh milk. The farmer has about thirty cows, a mixture of a local breed, friesian types, and some white faced ones too. There is a vacuum pump but only one bucket and machine, so milking seems to be a mixture of machine and hand work. The farmer is horrified that, not only we had been milking 140 cows, but also that the British farmer got only 35 pesetas a litre when he gets nearer 45 pesetas. The scale and economics of milk production are vastly different here compared with Britain. Tuberculin testing had started only a few years ago with Spain joining the EEC, and some farmers were still resentful of having to slaughter infected cattle, even though they got reasonable compensation for the loss.
In fact the EEC is encouraging all sorts of profound and extensive changes to these mountain ecosystems. For example, in its bid to reduce milk production, it is giving grants for changing traditional livestock pastures into plantations of quick‑growing species such as monterrey pine and eucalyptus for short term profit.
However, this is not the first time that humans have imposed their will on the mountains. From Roman times until the Middle ages, the inhabitants of the mountains deforested extensive areas, wherever the land was flat enough, to plough or provide fodder for their flocks. This brought about the disappearance of numerous species, e.g. red deer, wolf, bear and lynx, which became confined to the more inaccessible areas of the Pyrenees in the east or Galicia in the west. The ecosystem reached a new equilibrium, comprising subsistence level farming on the new fields, sustainable use of the remaining woodlands by local communities, and the rest of nature being allowed to get on with its own business more or less unmolested.
But another set of radical changes swept through the Cordillera as part of the process of recovery from the civil war in the 1950s. The subsequent economic development, especially in the 1960s, has brought about rapid and profound changes in social and economic structure. The industrial development east of Bilbao was an obvious example. And where industrialisation was not possible, tourism was being encouraged.
By visiting the area in the middle of winter, we saw little evidence of tourism, except for a small tourist office in Arenas de Cabrales. However, the Autonomous Community of Asturias, in whose area lies the Picos de Europa, based its publicity for tourism on the slogan 'Asturias ‑ natural paradise' and has provided infrastructure in the form of new roads, cable cars, mountain hotels, etc. The success of their policy was indicated by the several hundred thousand visitors now attracted to the area each summer.These changes are bringing alterations to the traditional ecosystems, and the animals and plants that live in them. Where farming has been abandoned, the traditional flower-filled hay meadows are being taken over by rank grasses. The replacement of cattle and horses by sheep and goats deprives birds such as the chough of prey items (e.g. beetles) which colonise the faeces of the larger animals. The increase in ramblers and walkers is disturbing the breeding and feeding activities of many animals. The sustainable exploitation of fruit and berries by local people has become wholesale destruction as tourists and weekend visitors join the harvest. Litter and other rubbish has become a problem.
The local people are also becoming a threat to wildlife, in that changing their occupation from farming to service industries allows them more free time and money. They engage in outdoor activities, in particular, hunting has undergone considerable expansion in the last few years. The one and a half million hunting licences now issued in Spain (in Galicia one person in 25 has a hunting licence) has resulted in the depletion of traditional hunting quarry and the subsequent persecution of species that were never considered to be cinegetic (quarry) species. Unfortunately the authorities show little interest in controlling the situation. Hunting is, however, limited to two days a week, and we saw no signs of shooting outside of those two days.The wildlife protection laws which do exist are administered by regional governments and their application varies widely. For example in Santander the Agricultural Council pays a ,100 bounty for each dead wolf; by contrast in Asturias (and in Andalucia in the south) wolves are protected and heavy fines are imposed on anyone shooting them ‑ in Asturias compensation is paid to shepherds who suffer losses assumed to be the result of attacks by bears or wolves. (Ref: Garcia Dory 1988)
On the Thursday we headed back to Laredo through pouring rain. Rivers were swollen and racing, and bird‑watching was impossible. We reached Laredo to find that the post office opened only the mornings, so we had to find a camping place and try yet again the next day. The mail arrived with that morning's delivery, and we continued our journey.
We followed the coast road, stopping a couple of times, but found only herring gulls and gannets out at sea. There were firecrests, tits and black-birds in the nearby vegetation and a pair of ravens in the top of a quarry behind us. One of these ravens indulged in aerial display ‑ closing its wings and turning onto its back, calling cluck‑cluck as it righted itself, and repeating the manoeuvre several times.
The instructions are easy to follow, and Montoto turns out to be a hamlet of a dozen or so farmhouses. We drive through it in a few seconds and stop for lunch at the side of a field. As we finish eating and are looking at birds in the field, I hear strange voices talking English. By chance the English couple have come out for a walk and taken the road we are parked on.We join them for the walk and later for coffee, discussing Britain and Spain and what we were all doing.
Vicky is Spanish but had spent the last nineteen years in London. Andy is from Yorkshire but also had spent some years in London. They had both been involved in social work, and eventually got fed up of it.They had considered buying a flat in Barcelona, then one of Vicky's relatives had mentioned cheap houses for sale in Montoto and so they changed their minds, bought a huge farmhouse and moved out to it in October. One wall of the house is believed to be at least a thousand years old, other bits having been added as required. The place had not been properly lived in for some years and it did not have much in the way of mod cons. Andy and Vicky put in a bathroom, got the kitchen stove working and organised a bedroom. They are working on the rest of the house as they have funds and time available, and may convert it into holiday flats.
The local bank manager asked if they would be interested in teaching English at the local primary school, and they accepted on the basis that the three hours or so of teaching each week would help them to keep in contact with the local community. The dozen or so students they expected turned into thirty-two of all ages and so far they have enjoyed it.
Andy is something of a spare time mechanic, and with his advice and tools we check the battery and change the oil in the camper. Neither Jim or I have any interest in things mechanical. If a vehicle doesn't work, we call out the AA or its equivalent; Europe is a civilised enough place that we could get away with it. In more sparsely populated areas people like us would soon come unstuck without being able to fix vehicles as and when necessary.Taking the battery out reveals a gaping hole in the metal it is sitting on and we may one day have found the battery falling out as we drove along. Again with Andy's help and advice, we make a tray from a bit of tin clipped from under the bonnet of an old abandoned car and get the battery bolted back in safely. We get quite a buzz of achievement out of it.
All this takes us two afternoons of half working, half bird‑watching and half talking. We take them out for a meal, to a place they had recommended. The food and drink is cheap ‑ by British standards ‑ but good. It is a bit strange to have a bigger first course than second course but there is plenty of bread and wine to go with it all.
Twice we go with Vicky to the local diary farm for fresh milk. The farmer has about thirty cows, a mixture of a local breed, friesian types, and some white faced ones too. There is a vacuum pump but only one bucket and machine, so milking seems to be a mixture of machine and hand work. The farmer is horrified that, not only we had been milking 140 cows, but also that the British farmer got only 35 pesetas a litre when he gets nearer 45 pesetas. The scale and economics of milk production are vastly different here compared with Britain. Tuberculin testing had started only a few years ago with Spain joining the EEC, and some farmers were still resentful of having to slaughter infected cattle, even though they got reasonable compensation for the loss.
In fact the EEC is encouraging all sorts of profound and extensive changes to these mountain ecosystems. For example, in its bid to reduce milk production, it is giving grants for changing traditional livestock pastures into plantations of quick‑growing species such as monterrey pine and eucalyptus for short term profit.
However, this is not the first time that humans have imposed their will on the mountains. From Roman times until the Middle ages, the inhabitants of the mountains deforested extensive areas, wherever the land was flat enough, to plough or provide fodder for their flocks. This brought about the disappearance of numerous species, e.g. red deer, wolf, bear and lynx, which became confined to the more inaccessible areas of the Pyrenees in the east or Galicia in the west. The ecosystem reached a new equilibrium, comprising subsistence level farming on the new fields, sustainable use of the remaining woodlands by local communities, and the rest of nature being allowed to get on with its own business more or less unmolested.
But another set of radical changes swept through the Cordillera as part of the process of recovery from the civil war in the 1950s. The subsequent economic development, especially in the 1960s, has brought about rapid and profound changes in social and economic structure. The industrial development east of Bilbao was an obvious example. And where industrialisation was not possible, tourism was being encouraged.
By visiting the area in the middle of winter, we saw little evidence of tourism, except for a small tourist office in Arenas de Cabrales. However, the Autonomous Community of Asturias, in whose area lies the Picos de Europa, based its publicity for tourism on the slogan 'Asturias ‑ natural paradise' and has provided infrastructure in the form of new roads, cable cars, mountain hotels, etc. The success of their policy was indicated by the several hundred thousand visitors now attracted to the area each summer.These changes are bringing alterations to the traditional ecosystems, and the animals and plants that live in them. Where farming has been abandoned, the traditional flower-filled hay meadows are being taken over by rank grasses. The replacement of cattle and horses by sheep and goats deprives birds such as the chough of prey items (e.g. beetles) which colonise the faeces of the larger animals. The increase in ramblers and walkers is disturbing the breeding and feeding activities of many animals. The sustainable exploitation of fruit and berries by local people has become wholesale destruction as tourists and weekend visitors join the harvest. Litter and other rubbish has become a problem.
The local people are also becoming a threat to wildlife, in that changing their occupation from farming to service industries allows them more free time and money. They engage in outdoor activities, in particular, hunting has undergone considerable expansion in the last few years. The one and a half million hunting licences now issued in Spain (in Galicia one person in 25 has a hunting licence) has resulted in the depletion of traditional hunting quarry and the subsequent persecution of species that were never considered to be cinegetic (quarry) species. Unfortunately the authorities show little interest in controlling the situation. Hunting is, however, limited to two days a week, and we saw no signs of shooting outside of those two days.The wildlife protection laws which do exist are administered by regional governments and their application varies widely. For example in Santander the Agricultural Council pays a ,100 bounty for each dead wolf; by contrast in Asturias (and in Andalucia in the south) wolves are protected and heavy fines are imposed on anyone shooting them ‑ in Asturias compensation is paid to shepherds who suffer losses assumed to be the result of attacks by bears or wolves. (Ref: Garcia Dory 1988)
On the Thursday we headed back to Laredo through pouring rain. Rivers were swollen and racing, and bird‑watching was impossible. We reached Laredo to find that the post office opened only the mornings, so we had to find a camping place and try yet again the next day. The mail arrived with that morning's delivery, and we continued our journey.
We followed the coast road, stopping a couple of times, but found only herring gulls and gannets out at sea. There were firecrests, tits and black-birds in the nearby vegetation and a pair of ravens in the top of a quarry behind us. One of these ravens indulged in aerial display ‑ closing its wings and turning onto its back, calling cluck‑cluck as it righted itself, and repeating the manoeuvre several times.
18 Dec 2008
17th Dec 1988 - Embalse del Ebro
The countryside around the Embalse del Ebro is rolling rather than mountainous but, being mostly above 600 metres, it looks harsh and hungry. In those fields which are cultivated the soil looks peaty and probably quite deep in places, yet most of the area is covered with heather and bracken with some scrub and the occasional small plantation. There are rocky out-crops and small ravines and plenty of power lines.We stop a few kilometres east of the Embalse and wait for birds to appear. They are slow in coming ‑ a griffon, a couple of ravens, crows, etc.
A small bird appears in a bush some 150 metres away and looks like a large pale bullfinch; it appears to have a pinkish breast, dark cap, grey back, white rump and dark tail. It comes closer and morphs into a great grey shrike as the markings and shape become clearer ‑ the white "rump" is actually white tips to the tertials. This is the southern race ‑ generally darker than the one we saw in Belgium with a pinkish breast and belly.The shrike moves closer in stages, stopping on a fence post or twig, looking around intently for a few minutes then perhaps swooping down on something on its way to the next post. It ignores passing cars but does not think much of the lorries. When we leave it has done a circle back to the bush where we first saw it.
A small bird appears in a bush some 150 metres away and looks like a large pale bullfinch; it appears to have a pinkish breast, dark cap, grey back, white rump and dark tail. It comes closer and morphs into a great grey shrike as the markings and shape become clearer ‑ the white "rump" is actually white tips to the tertials. This is the southern race ‑ generally darker than the one we saw in Belgium with a pinkish breast and belly.The shrike moves closer in stages, stopping on a fence post or twig, looking around intently for a few minutes then perhaps swooping down on something on its way to the next post. It ignores passing cars but does not think much of the lorries. When we leave it has done a circle back to the bush where we first saw it.
16th Dec 1988 - Embalse del Ebro
Yesterday was more or less a write‑off: the morning was taken up with trying to collect mail that still had not arrived and the afternoon with finding what seemed to be the only open campsite in Cantabria ‑ we were in need of a shower again. The only items of natural history note were black redstarts on the coast in the morning. The males were very black with very conspicuous white wing patches and undertail coverts ‑ more like the southern Iberian race ‑ Phoenicurus ochuros alterrimus.
Sea watching in calm but cold weather at Cabo Mayor this morning is disappointing, so we move back up into the mountains. A collection of twenty or so red kites, numerous ravens, jackdaws and black-headed gulls and a few buzzards and crows near the town of Reinosa suggest the location of rubbish dump. We manage to get off the main road (the second stopping place we have seen in 50 km) and watch the kites for half an hour or so.
The Ebro is one of the largest and most important rivers in Spain. The Romans called it Iberus, from which the peninsular takes the name Iberia. It rises in the Cordillera Cantabrica about 40 km from the north coast and meanders along the inland edge of these mountains and the Pyrenees to drain into the Mediterranean via the vast Ebro Delta. It has been dammed some ten kilometres from the source to form a reservoir (embalse in spanish) twenty by eight kilometres, the largest area of fresh water in Cantabria, with twelve villages lying beneath it.
The reservoir is at too high an altitude to attract large numbers of breeding or wintering birds but is a useful stop‑over point for migrants. It provides roosting places for the black‑headed gulls from the rubbish tip and also holds small numbers of mallard, coot, gadwall, teal, tufted duck and great-crested grebes. A peregrine flies in and watches proceedings from a mudbank.
The weather is noticeably colder and we see a snow plough ready for action on the road to Reinosa.
Dec 17
The countryside around the Embalse del Ebro is rolling rather than mountainous but, being mostly above 600 metres, it looks harsh and hungry. In those fields which are cultivated the soil looks peaty and probably quite deep in places, yet most of the area is covered with heather and bracken with some scrub and the occasional small plantation. There are rocky out-crops and small ravines and plenty of power lines.
We stop a few kilometres east of the Embalse and wait for birds to appear. They are slow in coming ‑ a griffon, a couple of ravens, crows, etc. A small bird appears in a bush some 150 metres away and looks like a large pale bullfinch; it appears to have a pinkish breast, dark cap, grey back, white rump and dark tail. It comes closer and morphs into a great grey shrike as the markings and shape become clearer ‑ the white "rump" is actually white tips to the tertials. This is the southern race ‑ generally darker than the one we saw in Belgium with a pinkish breast and belly.
The shrike moves closer in stages, stopping on a fence post or twig, looking around intently for a few minutes then perhaps swooping down on something on its way to the next post. It ignores passing cars but does not think much of the lorries. When we leave it has done a circle back to the bush where we first saw it.
Sea watching in calm but cold weather at Cabo Mayor this morning is disappointing, so we move back up into the mountains. A collection of twenty or so red kites, numerous ravens, jackdaws and black-headed gulls and a few buzzards and crows near the town of Reinosa suggest the location of rubbish dump. We manage to get off the main road (the second stopping place we have seen in 50 km) and watch the kites for half an hour or so.
The Ebro is one of the largest and most important rivers in Spain. The Romans called it Iberus, from which the peninsular takes the name Iberia. It rises in the Cordillera Cantabrica about 40 km from the north coast and meanders along the inland edge of these mountains and the Pyrenees to drain into the Mediterranean via the vast Ebro Delta. It has been dammed some ten kilometres from the source to form a reservoir (embalse in spanish) twenty by eight kilometres, the largest area of fresh water in Cantabria, with twelve villages lying beneath it.
The reservoir is at too high an altitude to attract large numbers of breeding or wintering birds but is a useful stop‑over point for migrants. It provides roosting places for the black‑headed gulls from the rubbish tip and also holds small numbers of mallard, coot, gadwall, teal, tufted duck and great-crested grebes. A peregrine flies in and watches proceedings from a mudbank.
The weather is noticeably colder and we see a snow plough ready for action on the road to Reinosa.
Dec 17
The countryside around the Embalse del Ebro is rolling rather than mountainous but, being mostly above 600 metres, it looks harsh and hungry. In those fields which are cultivated the soil looks peaty and probably quite deep in places, yet most of the area is covered with heather and bracken with some scrub and the occasional small plantation. There are rocky out-crops and small ravines and plenty of power lines.
We stop a few kilometres east of the Embalse and wait for birds to appear. They are slow in coming ‑ a griffon, a couple of ravens, crows, etc. A small bird appears in a bush some 150 metres away and looks like a large pale bullfinch; it appears to have a pinkish breast, dark cap, grey back, white rump and dark tail. It comes closer and morphs into a great grey shrike as the markings and shape become clearer ‑ the white "rump" is actually white tips to the tertials. This is the southern race ‑ generally darker than the one we saw in Belgium with a pinkish breast and belly.
The shrike moves closer in stages, stopping on a fence post or twig, looking around intently for a few minutes then perhaps swooping down on something on its way to the next post. It ignores passing cars but does not think much of the lorries. When we leave it has done a circle back to the bush where we first saw it.
14th Dec 1988 - Cuevas de Covolanas
Heading back towards the coast, we stop at the Cuevas de Covalanas again. About twenty or thirty red‑billed choughs gather on the rocks above us before going off to their roost. Jim scans the rocks for smaller birds and discovers half a dozen crag martins hawking insects along the cliff top. This species is typically found feeding just below the tops of cliffs, where they catch insects carried up on air currents as well as those they disturb by flying close to the cliff face, and even picking insects directly off the rock as they fly past. They glide most of the time, occasionally giving a little shake, perhaps as they manoeuvre to catch a nearby insect.
There were some weird noises at dawn, the loudest being chough possibly calling from one of the limestone caves which acts as an echo chamber. Then come some loud hoots which I thought at first were ravens, but am surprised to discover the callers are crows. Some chacking calls turn out to be black redstarts being chased off by the local robin.
A track cut into the cliff‑side leads up to a cave which has been bricked up but has two locked doors. A small flock of birds flies overhead and lands on the cliff even higher up. Through the binoculars they look dumpy grey and rufous birds but with the telescope we see enough detail to confirm that they are alpine accentors, adults with speckled chins and first winter birds in plainer plumage. They do not stay long, perhaps they are just passing through for although alpine accentors sometimes move below 1800 metres for the winter, they do not normally utilise the kind of precipitous or broken terrain that characterised this area.
In fact, coming across many species here seemed to be a matter of luck. Yesterday's crag martins were not seen again, the black redstarts were gone when we descended the track, and groups of siskins and linnets also came and went.
Halfway back down the track a vole sits out in the open eating grass. It does not seem to notice our approach, perhaps the large tick on its neck is interfering with its vision. I move round for a better look but it becomes alarmed and scuttles into the rocks. This vole is quite a dark colour, almost like a bank vole, however its very short tail and uniform colour on the back and sides convinced me that it is actually a field vole.
A red squirrel clambers up a wall across a ravine. It stops in a crevice for a while ‑ until we wonder if we are just looking at squirrel-shaped vegetation ‑ then it disappears.
There were some weird noises at dawn, the loudest being chough possibly calling from one of the limestone caves which acts as an echo chamber. Then come some loud hoots which I thought at first were ravens, but am surprised to discover the callers are crows. Some chacking calls turn out to be black redstarts being chased off by the local robin.
A track cut into the cliff‑side leads up to a cave which has been bricked up but has two locked doors. A small flock of birds flies overhead and lands on the cliff even higher up. Through the binoculars they look dumpy grey and rufous birds but with the telescope we see enough detail to confirm that they are alpine accentors, adults with speckled chins and first winter birds in plainer plumage. They do not stay long, perhaps they are just passing through for although alpine accentors sometimes move below 1800 metres for the winter, they do not normally utilise the kind of precipitous or broken terrain that characterised this area.
In fact, coming across many species here seemed to be a matter of luck. Yesterday's crag martins were not seen again, the black redstarts were gone when we descended the track, and groups of siskins and linnets also came and went.
Halfway back down the track a vole sits out in the open eating grass. It does not seem to notice our approach, perhaps the large tick on its neck is interfering with its vision. I move round for a better look but it becomes alarmed and scuttles into the rocks. This vole is quite a dark colour, almost like a bank vole, however its very short tail and uniform colour on the back and sides convinced me that it is actually a field vole.
A red squirrel clambers up a wall across a ravine. It stops in a crevice for a while ‑ until we wonder if we are just looking at squirrel-shaped vegetation ‑ then it disappears.
13th Dec 1988 - Vultures
We are surrounded by thick cloud again this morning and have to go down the road some way to get under it. Surprisingly griffons are amongst the first birds to be seen, floating along level with the cloud base, about thirty in all.
At night these vultures roost communally in loose groups, usually on cliff ledges or rock outcrops. They leave as soon as temperatures rise sufficiently or wind currents are adequate for soaring. But on misty mornings, like today, they may not vacate the site until ten or eleven o'clock and birds may stay put when it is wet or foggy. The members of a colony fly off together up to sixty kilometres in one direction, then they split up and apparently each individual systematically circles one area, searching the ground but still keeping an eye on its neighbours just in case they find food first.
After a rather circuitous journey we manage to get onto rough ground above farmland, and then we see the vultures descending on something just over the ridge and out of our sight. Vultures are attracted to a carcass by sight, and often by the movements of other birds on the ground or in the air ‑ here crows, ravens and magpies are also in attendance. A hundred or more vultures may alight some distance from the food and approach timidly. We see at least ten birds on the ground and another fifteen in the air. Those on the ground appear to be pulling at something while others appear to be defending themselves - or their meal.
Natural history films often show vultures feeding together in a squabbling mass, but this only happens if all the birds are equally hungry -and it looks more exciting on film. Usually they take turns, the hungriest birds first while others queue up and wait. Feeding birds maintain their positions by threatening, chasing and fighting others. Fights, which are usually brief and highly ritualised, also break out amongst the nearest onlookers. After feeding for several minutes a bird at the carcass may be displaced by a hungrier one from nearby group. Many gorge so much that they are unable to take off and may have to eject part of meal before flying.
We walk up a jeep track to level with the cloudbase, which had by then risen to about 950 metres, passing a plantation of what appeared to be cupressus sp. and Monterrey pine, eventually emerging in an area of heather, gorse and grass. A few ponies and cattle graze the hills, but there are no sheep at this time of year. Higher up there is deciduous woodland ‑ beech, alder and Pyrenean oak. There are few small birds, apart from half a dozen siskin around the alders and flying into a crevice containing only mosses so far as we could see.
By the time we reach the place where the vultures were feeding, they have dispersed; a high fence and locked gate prevent us from seeing what they had been feeding on.
Traditionally, each community had its own "mule tip", a place where they took mules, cattle, etc when they died and left the bodies to be cleaned up by the vultures. This practice is dying out as farmers prefer to bury the carcasses in pits and use a chemical to speed up the decomposition process. These pits are actually illegal and are depriving the vultures of food. People studying vultures now sometimes provide carcasses at convenient places, and in recent years the vulture population has increased by up to 400% in some areas. As this particular area was fenced off, we might have come across either a mule tip, or a study area here.
At night these vultures roost communally in loose groups, usually on cliff ledges or rock outcrops. They leave as soon as temperatures rise sufficiently or wind currents are adequate for soaring. But on misty mornings, like today, they may not vacate the site until ten or eleven o'clock and birds may stay put when it is wet or foggy. The members of a colony fly off together up to sixty kilometres in one direction, then they split up and apparently each individual systematically circles one area, searching the ground but still keeping an eye on its neighbours just in case they find food first.
After a rather circuitous journey we manage to get onto rough ground above farmland, and then we see the vultures descending on something just over the ridge and out of our sight. Vultures are attracted to a carcass by sight, and often by the movements of other birds on the ground or in the air ‑ here crows, ravens and magpies are also in attendance. A hundred or more vultures may alight some distance from the food and approach timidly. We see at least ten birds on the ground and another fifteen in the air. Those on the ground appear to be pulling at something while others appear to be defending themselves - or their meal.
Natural history films often show vultures feeding together in a squabbling mass, but this only happens if all the birds are equally hungry -and it looks more exciting on film. Usually they take turns, the hungriest birds first while others queue up and wait. Feeding birds maintain their positions by threatening, chasing and fighting others. Fights, which are usually brief and highly ritualised, also break out amongst the nearest onlookers. After feeding for several minutes a bird at the carcass may be displaced by a hungrier one from nearby group. Many gorge so much that they are unable to take off and may have to eject part of meal before flying.
We walk up a jeep track to level with the cloudbase, which had by then risen to about 950 metres, passing a plantation of what appeared to be cupressus sp. and Monterrey pine, eventually emerging in an area of heather, gorse and grass. A few ponies and cattle graze the hills, but there are no sheep at this time of year. Higher up there is deciduous woodland ‑ beech, alder and Pyrenean oak. There are few small birds, apart from half a dozen siskin around the alders and flying into a crevice containing only mosses so far as we could see.
By the time we reach the place where the vultures were feeding, they have dispersed; a high fence and locked gate prevent us from seeing what they had been feeding on.
Traditionally, each community had its own "mule tip", a place where they took mules, cattle, etc when they died and left the bodies to be cleaned up by the vultures. This practice is dying out as farmers prefer to bury the carcasses in pits and use a chemical to speed up the decomposition process. These pits are actually illegal and are depriving the vultures of food. People studying vultures now sometimes provide carcasses at convenient places, and in recent years the vulture population has increased by up to 400% in some areas. As this particular area was fenced off, we might have come across either a mule tip, or a study area here.
12th Dec 1988
Barn owls were hissing and tawny owls were hooting close to the camper last night, and the tawnies were still quite vociferous again at dawn. There were two, one in the trees above and the other below where we were parked. They talked to each other in voices halfway between those of youngsters calling for food, and adults hooting.
This morning we walk uphill along a minor road, birds are similar to those on the farmland yesterday but fewer of them. We are on a very steep slope covered with evergreen holm oak and deciduous species such as sessile oak, hawthorn, hazel, field maple, and some beech and privet.
We drive on and stop for lunch at a view-point overlooking a sheer limestone cliff which is marked on the map as Cuevas de Covalanas. There are a number of cave entrances visible and signs requesting visitors to check with the authorities before exploring them. A buzzard and a raven circle in the valley, and a couple of meadow pipits fly through. On the higher peaks on the other side of the valley are the three griffons again.
Mountain tops aere generally in the clouds but the road goes to 1000 metres at Alto de los Tornos and we follow it. Visibility is often down to 50 metres, so we stop to listen for bird sounds ‑ mostly a few unidentifiable noises in the distance. Close to us is a chunky looking pipit with white supercilium, eyestripe and moustachial stripe, faintly striped on the back, dark legs, and white belly and outer tail feathers. The elusive (for us) water pipit found at last. There is another as we reach the viewpoint at the top, feeding along the road then bathing in a nearby puddle.
This morning we walk uphill along a minor road, birds are similar to those on the farmland yesterday but fewer of them. We are on a very steep slope covered with evergreen holm oak and deciduous species such as sessile oak, hawthorn, hazel, field maple, and some beech and privet.
We drive on and stop for lunch at a view-point overlooking a sheer limestone cliff which is marked on the map as Cuevas de Covalanas. There are a number of cave entrances visible and signs requesting visitors to check with the authorities before exploring them. A buzzard and a raven circle in the valley, and a couple of meadow pipits fly through. On the higher peaks on the other side of the valley are the three griffons again.
Mountain tops aere generally in the clouds but the road goes to 1000 metres at Alto de los Tornos and we follow it. Visibility is often down to 50 metres, so we stop to listen for bird sounds ‑ mostly a few unidentifiable noises in the distance. Close to us is a chunky looking pipit with white supercilium, eyestripe and moustachial stripe, faintly striped on the back, dark legs, and white belly and outer tail feathers. The elusive (for us) water pipit found at last. There is another as we reach the viewpoint at the top, feeding along the road then bathing in a nearby puddle.
11th Dec 1988 - Cordillera Cantabrica
In Laredo I try out my Spanish - "Donde esta el correo?" (where is the post office?). The small Spanish lady looks at me quizzically and I repeat the question. "Ah, el corrrreeeeeo" she corrects my pronunciation in a voice that comes from her boots and is loaded with cold viruses - I will suffer later. The post office is not far away, but our mail has not arrived.
The weather is calm and grey along the coast, and there is little out to sea. The mountains look inviting, so we make a relatively short circuit in and out of the foothills - we do not fancy getting caught in winter mountain weather.
The northern strip of Spain is a more or less continuous mountain range, the Pyrenees forming a barrier between Spain and France, and the Cordillera Cantabrica separating the Spanish interior from the Bay of Biscay. As in many mountain regions, the inhabitants were isolated and developed a culture and language of their own. About 25,000 years ago, at the beginning of the last ice age, the forebears of the Basque people settled the eastern end of the Cordillera and the western Pyrenees. The mountains are littered with archaeological remains, including cave paintings at Altimira. The Basque language, Euskadi, is considered to be one of the oldest in the world and is said to have no affinity with any modern language - except that a few french and spanish words have crept in here and there.
The Cordillera is formed from a layer of Carboniferous limestone up to a thousand metres thick with the main outcrop forming the Picos de Europa; shales and slates influence the landscape to the east, metamorphic rocks are found to the west. High precipitation from the Atlantic climate has given rise to typical karst formation of fissures and caverns, some of which formed permanent channels for water courses. Raptors favour the high cliffs and ledges, while chough make use of the more sheltered cracks and pot‑holes where their chicks are safe from predators.
Mountain roads are usually narrow, and places to stop are few and far between. The first one we find has been used as a rubbish dump and smells bad ‑ a member of the civil guard drives past slowly and gives us a long what-are‑you‑up‑to sort of look. However, we are looking up at the end of a limestone bluff ‑ the Sierra de Hornijo ‑ there are goats up on the scarp slope, then three griffons sail over the ridge.
Another stopping place, which looks up at the dip slope of the same ridge, is more pleasant. The vegetation on the slopes is a mosaic of eucalypt and conifer plantations, and of evergreen and autumnal deciduous trees ‑ mostly various species of oak ‑ and sweet chestnut which is now leafless.
We walk up a steep track through a eucalyptus plantation and then through conifers. Beyond that is lush rolling farmland. Although the rock massifs are limestone, much of the vegetation is more acid‑loving, including the oaks, gorse and eight kinds of heather found along the track. These mostly have seed heads rather than flowers and so prove difficult to identify, however they include St. Dabeoc's heath, Spanish heath and Dorset heath.
On the farmland there is a usual selection of passerines: robins, blackbirds, tits, firecrests, chaffinches, and one female hawfinch which sits in a bare tree ‑ conveniently for us. There are some chough‑like calls and we locate eight birds flying north, high overhead but in the poor light it is impossible to decide if they were the red‑billed or alpine kind. The most common corvid at all heights seems to be the jay, noisily flying from oak tree to oak tree, and usually carrying an acorn.
As we heed downhill, the three griffons circled the limestone bluff again and settled on a pinnacle. Later forty or fifty corvids circled the area before settling to roost.
The weather is calm and grey along the coast, and there is little out to sea. The mountains look inviting, so we make a relatively short circuit in and out of the foothills - we do not fancy getting caught in winter mountain weather.
The northern strip of Spain is a more or less continuous mountain range, the Pyrenees forming a barrier between Spain and France, and the Cordillera Cantabrica separating the Spanish interior from the Bay of Biscay. As in many mountain regions, the inhabitants were isolated and developed a culture and language of their own. About 25,000 years ago, at the beginning of the last ice age, the forebears of the Basque people settled the eastern end of the Cordillera and the western Pyrenees. The mountains are littered with archaeological remains, including cave paintings at Altimira. The Basque language, Euskadi, is considered to be one of the oldest in the world and is said to have no affinity with any modern language - except that a few french and spanish words have crept in here and there.
The Cordillera is formed from a layer of Carboniferous limestone up to a thousand metres thick with the main outcrop forming the Picos de Europa; shales and slates influence the landscape to the east, metamorphic rocks are found to the west. High precipitation from the Atlantic climate has given rise to typical karst formation of fissures and caverns, some of which formed permanent channels for water courses. Raptors favour the high cliffs and ledges, while chough make use of the more sheltered cracks and pot‑holes where their chicks are safe from predators.
Mountain roads are usually narrow, and places to stop are few and far between. The first one we find has been used as a rubbish dump and smells bad ‑ a member of the civil guard drives past slowly and gives us a long what-are‑you‑up‑to sort of look. However, we are looking up at the end of a limestone bluff ‑ the Sierra de Hornijo ‑ there are goats up on the scarp slope, then three griffons sail over the ridge.
Another stopping place, which looks up at the dip slope of the same ridge, is more pleasant. The vegetation on the slopes is a mosaic of eucalypt and conifer plantations, and of evergreen and autumnal deciduous trees ‑ mostly various species of oak ‑ and sweet chestnut which is now leafless.
We walk up a steep track through a eucalyptus plantation and then through conifers. Beyond that is lush rolling farmland. Although the rock massifs are limestone, much of the vegetation is more acid‑loving, including the oaks, gorse and eight kinds of heather found along the track. These mostly have seed heads rather than flowers and so prove difficult to identify, however they include St. Dabeoc's heath, Spanish heath and Dorset heath.
On the farmland there is a usual selection of passerines: robins, blackbirds, tits, firecrests, chaffinches, and one female hawfinch which sits in a bare tree ‑ conveniently for us. There are some chough‑like calls and we locate eight birds flying north, high overhead but in the poor light it is impossible to decide if they were the red‑billed or alpine kind. The most common corvid at all heights seems to be the jay, noisily flying from oak tree to oak tree, and usually carrying an acorn.
As we heed downhill, the three griffons circled the limestone bluff again and settled on a pinnacle. Later forty or fifty corvids circled the area before settling to roost.
16 Dec 2008
10th Dec 1988, Santoña Marshes
West of the industrial region mentioned above there are rivers which flow from the mountains to the sea in a clean state; and the marshes and estuaries they form are of immense importance to wildlife. Three fairly short rivers flow into the bay at Santoña and Laredo, and saltmarsh is creeping onto the mudflats exposed at low tide. Sheltered from Atlantic storms by the limestone massif of Monte Buciero at the harbour mouth, the bay attracts sun‑seekers in summer and flocks of migrant wildfowl and waders in winter.
Spoonbills stop here on migration, and shelduck also are said to have taken a liking to the place in recent years, though there are none to be seen today. The marshes are the principal site on the north coast for grey plover, dunlin, greenshank and curlew. The most numerous species that we see is wigeon, there are thousands settled quietly on the water.
The map shows a minor road crossing the marshes ‑ two lanes with crumbling edges, no stopping places and fast Spanish traffic. We park at the Santoña end and walk back. About half way along there is an area surrounded by a dyke and partly drained, it has a few healthy-looking ponds and willow scrub in the wetter part, while the drier area comprises a small eucalypt plantation. The trees are regenerating, but there is no under-storey since the ground is carpeted with slow-decomposing eucalyptus leaves which inhibit the growth of other species.
Eucalyptus was introduced to Europe in 1804, within a few years of the discovery of Australia, and was soon found to grow well on deforested land where the soil was so thin and badly eroded that few other tree-species could find sufficient sustenance. Throughout the nineteenth century it spread on eroding, near-desert lands around the Mediterranean, serving as windbreaks, providing welcome shade and stabilising the soils. It is only relatively recently that its use in forestry has become important, the wood is ideal for pulping to make paper, and on less impoverished soils the trees grows very quickly.
Like most introduced species, the eucalyptus has a reputation for being no good for birds: however we find that the few small birds here are hidden by the large evergreen leaves.
While the tide is low there are a number of people out on the marshes, variously fishing, digging or probing for whatever is there. We watch a couple of fishermen under a bridge. They have a wok‑shaped basket on the end of a rope. It is baited with a sizeable piece of fish and, with the aid of a forked stick, lowered vertically into the water and laid on a ledge or mudbank. After a few minutes it is slowly pulled out of the water and the catch ‑ crabs and crayfish ‑ is emptied into a wicker basket.
Today is grey and murky with neither wind nor sun, but some drizzle in the afternoon. The tide is coming in and bringing with it a juvenile red-throated diver and an adult great northern diver which we are able to study at much closer than usual quarters. The red‑throated looks small and finely built compared with the heavy angular great northern. The latter swims mostly in a hunched posture, but then preens, and finally goes fishing. For this it swims around with its head and neck stretched along the water surface, then dives, sometimes coming up with a crab.
Four red-breasted mergansers fly in and spend most of the time vigorously stirring up the mud and shallow water. Eider and scoter also move up-stream, some of the female and juvenile scoter looking almost chestnut in colour.
An adult Mediterranean gull roosts on the mudflat, then becomes active as the tide disturbs it. It walks a few metres and picks up an amorphous lump from the mud, takes it to a nearby puddle and washes it thoroughly several times, then shakes it vigorously for a few seconds before swallowing it whole. This species' winter diet consists mainly of molluscs and marine fish.
Two little egrets fish close to the shore, one moving slowly and deliberately, stirring up mud with its foot, the other more energetic, rushing from side to side and flapping its wings to disturb prey. The first one seems more successful. Later a dozen egrets join a feeding frenzy of gulls, cormorants and herons, then at high tide roost with the latter two species on a half submerged wreck.
Among the waders common sandpiper and whimbrel are of particular note as we were now in their wintering areas. Some of the bar‑tailed godwit have cinnamon plumage on their necks, breast and scapulars indicating they are juveniles.
Out on the open channels, there are about forty black-necked grebe, roosting or preening. As the tide brings them in, they disperse into smaller groups and begin feeding. Often a group dive together, leaving the water empty. They are quite noisy, calling to each other with high pitched whistles. If a bird surfaced alone, it sometimes gets quite frantic, whistling loudly and paddling around to find its mates. Their rather contrasty plumage made the little grebe look quite drab.
A peregrine flies in, calling, and settles atop an electricity pylon to watch the world go by. We make our way back to the van through drizzle.
Spoonbills stop here on migration, and shelduck also are said to have taken a liking to the place in recent years, though there are none to be seen today. The marshes are the principal site on the north coast for grey plover, dunlin, greenshank and curlew. The most numerous species that we see is wigeon, there are thousands settled quietly on the water.
The map shows a minor road crossing the marshes ‑ two lanes with crumbling edges, no stopping places and fast Spanish traffic. We park at the Santoña end and walk back. About half way along there is an area surrounded by a dyke and partly drained, it has a few healthy-looking ponds and willow scrub in the wetter part, while the drier area comprises a small eucalypt plantation. The trees are regenerating, but there is no under-storey since the ground is carpeted with slow-decomposing eucalyptus leaves which inhibit the growth of other species.
Eucalyptus was introduced to Europe in 1804, within a few years of the discovery of Australia, and was soon found to grow well on deforested land where the soil was so thin and badly eroded that few other tree-species could find sufficient sustenance. Throughout the nineteenth century it spread on eroding, near-desert lands around the Mediterranean, serving as windbreaks, providing welcome shade and stabilising the soils. It is only relatively recently that its use in forestry has become important, the wood is ideal for pulping to make paper, and on less impoverished soils the trees grows very quickly.
Like most introduced species, the eucalyptus has a reputation for being no good for birds: however we find that the few small birds here are hidden by the large evergreen leaves.
While the tide is low there are a number of people out on the marshes, variously fishing, digging or probing for whatever is there. We watch a couple of fishermen under a bridge. They have a wok‑shaped basket on the end of a rope. It is baited with a sizeable piece of fish and, with the aid of a forked stick, lowered vertically into the water and laid on a ledge or mudbank. After a few minutes it is slowly pulled out of the water and the catch ‑ crabs and crayfish ‑ is emptied into a wicker basket.
Today is grey and murky with neither wind nor sun, but some drizzle in the afternoon. The tide is coming in and bringing with it a juvenile red-throated diver and an adult great northern diver which we are able to study at much closer than usual quarters. The red‑throated looks small and finely built compared with the heavy angular great northern. The latter swims mostly in a hunched posture, but then preens, and finally goes fishing. For this it swims around with its head and neck stretched along the water surface, then dives, sometimes coming up with a crab.
Four red-breasted mergansers fly in and spend most of the time vigorously stirring up the mud and shallow water. Eider and scoter also move up-stream, some of the female and juvenile scoter looking almost chestnut in colour.
An adult Mediterranean gull roosts on the mudflat, then becomes active as the tide disturbs it. It walks a few metres and picks up an amorphous lump from the mud, takes it to a nearby puddle and washes it thoroughly several times, then shakes it vigorously for a few seconds before swallowing it whole. This species' winter diet consists mainly of molluscs and marine fish.
Two little egrets fish close to the shore, one moving slowly and deliberately, stirring up mud with its foot, the other more energetic, rushing from side to side and flapping its wings to disturb prey. The first one seems more successful. Later a dozen egrets join a feeding frenzy of gulls, cormorants and herons, then at high tide roost with the latter two species on a half submerged wreck.
Among the waders common sandpiper and whimbrel are of particular note as we were now in their wintering areas. Some of the bar‑tailed godwit have cinnamon plumage on their necks, breast and scapulars indicating they are juveniles.
Out on the open channels, there are about forty black-necked grebe, roosting or preening. As the tide brings them in, they disperse into smaller groups and begin feeding. Often a group dive together, leaving the water empty. They are quite noisy, calling to each other with high pitched whistles. If a bird surfaced alone, it sometimes gets quite frantic, whistling loudly and paddling around to find its mates. Their rather contrasty plumage made the little grebe look quite drab.
A peregrine flies in, calling, and settles atop an electricity pylon to watch the world go by. We make our way back to the van through drizzle.
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