In pursuit of a warbler
It was a day that will go down in the annals of (my) history as one best described as a circus.
The Knysna Warbler features on notice boards on a number of the Constantia greenbelt trails, but as none have been seen for around 5 years, we have scoffed at same and resigned ourselves to the fact that it was no longer here. A trail runner and birding expert heard one singing on the contour path above Newlands a week ago, and ever since then, keen birders have been slogging up to catch sight of this elusive, undergrowth-dwelling little bird. Having seen it, he established it to be a juvenile, which means there are at least three birds in the area – unless you hear the call, it will go unnoticed, as it obviously has for many years now. My son, determined not to miss out on this bird, persuaded me to join him at the crack of dawn to scramble up the not inconsiderable slopes on this mission.
We needed to leave home by 4.50am latest to get to Newlands Forest by 5.30, giving us an hour to reach the location given by those who had already achieved this goal by 6.30. It was reported that this would be the best time as the birds (two seen) went silent after that. I woke at 1.30am and lay there until 4 wondering whether I would oversleep. After two-and-a-half hours’ sleep, the brain fog was dire and I was already starting to grumble. Who would feed the dogs at 5.30? What about the chickens? Never mind that I forgot my glasses at home, only remembered once I was well along the road. My cellphone was on my lap, so at least I had remembered that. And so the circus began…
We arrived in the carpark where a couple of birders were making their 3rd attempt at seeing the birds. Talk about dedicated – the ascent to the top contour is not signposted, boulder-strewn and a well-known ‘now we’re lost’ area. We clambered from the car, threw our valuables in the boot and set off at a brisk pace, eschewing their advice to take the long jeep track and choosing an alternate, straight-up-the-mountain route advised by others. I knew things would not go well. At a crucial junction, the lack of signposting sent us in the wrong direction, and I was already feeling the strain of the fast ascent. I remembered I should be tracking my exercise on the Fitbit, and discovered to my consternation that my phone had not accompanied me on the adventure. Had I put it in the boot? Was it in the car? Had it fallen on the ground? All these things were irrelevant as it was to be onwards and upwards, no turning back.
My son disappeared from view as he raced ahead of me, frustrated by my plaintive whining as I clung to saplings to catch my breath between bursts of speed. ‘I can’t do this!’ ‘Go back to the car, then!’ ‘Don’t you leave me alone on this mountain!’ The repartee was hostile! Sweat poured off me, soaking my shirt. The wrong shoes meant a careful placement of feet among exposed tree roots, mossy boulders and fallen branches. Somewhere near the top, random wooden boardwalks indicated the trail, with steps that were meant for giants – hard going for a short person with a hiking pole back in the car boot.
We arrived at our destination at 6.30 to find the older couple had been there a while. No sight nor sound of the birds. The usual standing and waiting ensued, with short forays to left and right along the path to cover a little more area. About an hour later, a faint call was heard by the sharp-eared. My son moved off to follow it, while I was distracted by the early sunlight on a leaf. A soft whistle and we knew he had it. By the time we reached him, it was out of sight, but he had his pictures! Now we could hear the call and another few hours were spent gazing into the undergrowth. This is what birding is all about, and the time really does fly by as you immerse yourself in the silence of nature. But there was still the descent to come. With our companions to guide us, we made it back down in another hour, one of us happy with his photos, and me quite satisfied with the call.
The circus, apart from the above, was caused by my daughter phoning to say I had forgotten to put electricity in the meter (I didn’t have my phone so couldn’t buy it on the mountain), we had both remotes for the gate so she couldn’t get out of the driveway, she had to climb over the wall to the neighbour and walk to the shop to buy electricity. She couldn’t get to work (no remote) and had to ask someone to give her a lift. The chickens were badly behaved and it took her two hours to get one back into the coop before letting the dogs out. So I had all this to stress about on the mountain, all the time wondering where my phone was. Got back to the car and there was a note on my window. A fine gentleman had picked up my phone next to the car and taken it home. He lived nearby and in no time I had retrieved it and all was well with my world again.
This is definitely the last time I go out on an early morning twitch. It was just beautiful to be up there, though.
(The photo of the Knysna warbler is from the web.)
