The next day we drove to Ordesa National Park, a few hours northeast of Jaca. This Park adjoins the French National Park on the French side of the Pyrenees. Cars are not allowed inside the Park, and the number of visitors allowed in at one time is limited as well. Although we visited during one of the busiest months, we had no trouble entering as soon as we arrived. There is an excellent paved car park and comfortable, modern buses that carry visitors the short distance into the Park proper. The Pyrenees surround us, vast and dreaming the the cloudless sky.
The Rio Soaso runs the length of the Park and well-marked trails follow on both sides to the falls, which roar down a series of rocky steps. Beech forest prevails, interspersed with linden and Spanish pine. Marsh tit, coal tit and firecrest (looking a lot like our golden-crowned kinglets) are common birds in the cafe hub area. Tits are small birds in Europe that act a lot like chickadees and titmice in the U. S.
It's possible to climb to the top of the nearby peaks, although the trail is a rough, arduous series of switchbacks. The climb takes roughly four to five hours one way. At the top, the view makes it all worthwhile. The Soaso River is a tiny silver thread coursing through the valley. The rocky buttresses continue to climb above for several thousand meters. In the meadow where we stopped, our party found water pipit, dunnock, European robin, black redstart, rufous-tailed rockthrush, common blackbird, crested tit, Eurasian treecreeper and many more birds. Egyptian vultures and griffon vultures were coursing on the warm air carried up from the canyon. They were below us, giving us rare looks of these birds from above.
It was after eight in the evening when we arrived back at the hub area. The buses run until ten in order to accommodate late-returning hikers. It would be easy to spend several days birding the many side road and back-country areas in this beautiful place.
We all voted for a later start the next day. There are excellent birding sites in Jaca, so we opted to spend the day on local searches. La Cuidadela, an ancient five-sided brick citadel in the heart of Jaca, is an excellent place to find rock sparrows, common swifts and linnet. A herd of deer lives in the sunken grassy moat of the fort. They spend their days following the shade under the ancient walls. After finding the fort birds, we took a short walk to the Pilgrims' Bridge, another venerable structure which carried pilgrims on their walk centuries ago over the Rio Aragon.
In August, by noon or later, the temperature in the valleys climbs to the high eighties. Businesses close down for siesta at about one and re-open around four-thirty or five. We were reluctant to lose this midday time for exploring the city, but found that the Spanish are right: it's too hot. We found some shade and enjoyed the view. As we sat on our shady patio in the middle of Jaca, a red kite coursed low over the hotel grounds, scattering the rock doves. Later in the afternoon, we went on a hunt for the black woodpecker. The monasteries of San Juan de la Pena are a short drive southeast of Jaca and this bird is often seen there. The oldest monastery, built in the tenth century, is built right into the buff-colored cliffs. Crude lookout windows are visible in the old rock above the monastery. We had no luck on the woodpecker, but came back with a deep sense of mystery and awe imparted by the aged rock.
Back in Jaca, two of our party took an after dinner walk to te Paseo, or city park, hoping for Eurasian scops owl. They can often be seen there in the light from the street lamps. This night the owls could be heard calling softly but stayed hidden in the trees lining the manicured paths.
Winter Sunset, Loomis Outlet
Friday, December 28, 2012
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
The Search Goes On...
Back to wallcreeper country. There was so much ravine, so many rocky escarpments to search for this small gray and red bird. The rough cliffs disappeared into the clouds on every side. We spread out again on each end of the tunnel. Suddenly an urgent, echoing holler came from the other side of the tunnel. Wallcreeper! Hurry! Three of us ran full speed, scopes tilting and bins bouncing, careless of tunnel traffic. We couldn't miss this elusive rarity.
He was surprisingly easy to see, feeding along a rocky face across the ravine. Although related to the nuthatch, this is a bigger bird: 14 to 17 cm from slightly decurved bill to white banded tail. He was creeping along the rock face, gleaning insects from crevices and alpine plants. He looked rather drab until he spread his wings to move to an adjacent area: lovely "broad, round wings, gaudily marked with red, black and white above" as described in our damp copy of Birds of Europe. At one point he flew to the rocks just above us, giving an excellent view of his black throat and breast. We were all grinning like fools in a twenty-mile-an-hour wind and horizontal rain. Lammergeier and wallcreeper - and it was still early afternoon!
We started back down the valley and stopped near the small town of Siresa, a bit north of Hecho. A grassy abandoned field surrounded by overgrown bramble looked promising. (When you're a birder, the oddest kind of places can look grand.) While we wandered around, stretching our legs and admiring the ancient walled town across the valley, we had good looks at red kites, black kites and griffon vultures above. Two red-backed shrikes, an adult male and a juvenile, were perched on the far fence, flying off occasionally to hawk insects. We also saw a cirl bunting, a spotless starling (a rather plain, black bird) and a Eurasian wryneck in the hedges. Ravens, a common kestrel and a beautiful dark-phase booted eagle drifted on the thermals above us. It was a day for raptors.
Once or twice we had heard the odd purring call of European bee eaters, a very lovely, very colorful little bird. On our way back to Jaca, near Berdun, we stopped to check a sunny open field dotted with shrubby growth. We were lucky. Six European bee eaters were perched on the bare limbs of a snag, looking like polished, multi-colored ornaments. One by one they flew out to hawk insects and return to the snag. The rich gold-yellow on their throats was easily seen and their cinnamon crowns glowed. Black mask, golden chin and azure blue breast are so very lovely it's hard to find words. We were able to glimpse the long tail projections flashing in the low sunlight. Magical.
Finally, back to Jaca for a late dinner (dinner is not served until 9:30 at the earliest, so snacks on the way help prevent cranky birders). Dining in northern Spain is a treat. The excellent wines of the nearby Rioja area are plentiful and reasonable. Salads feature local specialties such as white asparagus and sweet red pepper. Beef and lamb are cooked to perfection on an asador (grate) over an open fire.
We went to bed very late but extremely happy with the day's remarkable birds.
Stay tuned for more Spanish birding adventures.
He was surprisingly easy to see, feeding along a rocky face across the ravine. Although related to the nuthatch, this is a bigger bird: 14 to 17 cm from slightly decurved bill to white banded tail. He was creeping along the rock face, gleaning insects from crevices and alpine plants. He looked rather drab until he spread his wings to move to an adjacent area: lovely "broad, round wings, gaudily marked with red, black and white above" as described in our damp copy of Birds of Europe. At one point he flew to the rocks just above us, giving an excellent view of his black throat and breast. We were all grinning like fools in a twenty-mile-an-hour wind and horizontal rain. Lammergeier and wallcreeper - and it was still early afternoon!
We started back down the valley and stopped near the small town of Siresa, a bit north of Hecho. A grassy abandoned field surrounded by overgrown bramble looked promising. (When you're a birder, the oddest kind of places can look grand.) While we wandered around, stretching our legs and admiring the ancient walled town across the valley, we had good looks at red kites, black kites and griffon vultures above. Two red-backed shrikes, an adult male and a juvenile, were perched on the far fence, flying off occasionally to hawk insects. We also saw a cirl bunting, a spotless starling (a rather plain, black bird) and a Eurasian wryneck in the hedges. Ravens, a common kestrel and a beautiful dark-phase booted eagle drifted on the thermals above us. It was a day for raptors.
Once or twice we had heard the odd purring call of European bee eaters, a very lovely, very colorful little bird. On our way back to Jaca, near Berdun, we stopped to check a sunny open field dotted with shrubby growth. We were lucky. Six European bee eaters were perched on the bare limbs of a snag, looking like polished, multi-colored ornaments. One by one they flew out to hawk insects and return to the snag. The rich gold-yellow on their throats was easily seen and their cinnamon crowns glowed. Black mask, golden chin and azure blue breast are so very lovely it's hard to find words. We were able to glimpse the long tail projections flashing in the low sunlight. Magical.
Finally, back to Jaca for a late dinner (dinner is not served until 9:30 at the earliest, so snacks on the way help prevent cranky birders). Dining in northern Spain is a treat. The excellent wines of the nearby Rioja area are plentiful and reasonable. Salads feature local specialties such as white asparagus and sweet red pepper. Beef and lamb are cooked to perfection on an asador (grate) over an open fire.
We went to bed very late but extremely happy with the day's remarkable birds.
Stay tuned for more Spanish birding adventures.
Friday, December 7, 2012
Birding in the Spanish Pyrenees
"Lammergier!" John shouted - we all spun around. There he was, a majestic vulture close to four feet long with a wingspan of almost eight feet, slowly pumping those enormous wings to gain altitude. The bird had been on the ground perhaps 100 feet from us, hidden by a small hillock. As he beat away, we had long looks at this tawny-dark giant with the long, wedge-shaped tail. The silvery peaks of the Spanish Pyrenees surrounded us, the sky was deep blue, and alpine lilies grew at our feet. Life was good.
Friends in England had invited us to spend part of August birding with them in northern Spain. In early August we flew into Barcelona via Vienna. We spent a leisurely day and a half driving to Jaca, a resort town in the foothills of the Pyrenees. Jaca was our home base for the following week.
The Pyrenees form the mountainous boundary between France to the north and Spain to the south. The tallest peak, Aneto, rises 3,404 meters (10,212 feet). Most of the twenty-six major peaks rise between 1500 and 3000 meters. Birds are plentiful. Alpine, Mediterranean and northern European species can be found in the Pyrenees and the nearby dry valleys and foothills at various times of the years. Although August is the quietest month for birds, we were not disappointed.
Up early our first day, the five of us agreed to go on a search for a very elusive, small grey bird called a wallcreeper. A narrow, dark, dripping tunnel appropriately named Boca del Infierno, or Hell's Mouth, carries a small mountain road through a rocky gorge in the mountains. The gorge on either side of the tunnel has been a good place to find wallcreepers, as they glean insects from the crevices in the rocks and walls. This area in the northern Hecho Valley, about 50 km northwest of Jaca, is one of the lowest and most accessible places in the Pyrenees where wallcreepers can be found.
On our way to the Valley, we made a stop on a stone bridge over the Rio Aragon. Crag martins coursed the wide, shallow river as it chattered over rocks. A bit farther north, the Hecho Valley is broad and open: perfect country for raptors. We got our first of many red kites, Egyptian vultures, (Eurasian) griffon vultures, a booted eagle, a spotted flycatcher and the lammergier.
We had stopped along the quiet two-lane road to scope the booted eagle when John had glimpsed the lammergier from the corner of his eye. Our grins were a mile wide. As we celebrated the raptor with cookies and coffee, an elderly Basque gentleman stopped to chat. We were at least 10 km from any town or settlement and he was out briskly walking, black beret cocked over one eye. With his few English words, our basic Spanish and many smiles and gestures we learned about the grey herons that fish in the nearby river and the vultures that feed on carcasses in the fields. He wished us well and continued on his long walk to somewhere.
As we made our way north through the Hecho Valley, passing through the town of Hecho, we left open, sunny country behind. Grey rock ravines dropped to an icy mountain stream that followed along the road. The rock was dotted with a curious alpine saxifrage that looks just like a pale green sea anemone. By now the wind had picked up and a fine cold rain was sweeping down the narrow valley in soaking gusts. When we reached the dripping tunnel, the Boca del Infierno, we spaced ourselves along the ravine on each side and began a search for wallcreepers. This is popular country for camping and hill walking. Many people passed us in cars, on bicycles and on foot, always polite and sometimes curious about why we persistently scanned the high rock face across the road. Most of the hikers carried walking sticks and some of the men sang what sounded like arias in clear voices as they walked. The songs, combined with the soft 'clonk-bonk' of the large bells worn by the sheep in the area, were a hauntingly pleasant sound.
We spent forty wet, cold minutes looking for the elusive bird. Our binocular lenses were wet and the fine, drifting rain settled on our clothes. A lunch break was in order. We found a camp ground along a shallow mountain stream where we sat sheltered on some rocks among alpine Queen Ann's lace, delicate pale blue campanula, tiny pinks nodding in the wind and mauve wild geranium. The campers seemed unfazed by the rain as they picnicked outside, walked and sang. Their good-natured cheerfulness was an antidote.
Stay tuned for more birding in Spain.
Friends in England had invited us to spend part of August birding with them in northern Spain. In early August we flew into Barcelona via Vienna. We spent a leisurely day and a half driving to Jaca, a resort town in the foothills of the Pyrenees. Jaca was our home base for the following week.
The Pyrenees form the mountainous boundary between France to the north and Spain to the south. The tallest peak, Aneto, rises 3,404 meters (10,212 feet). Most of the twenty-six major peaks rise between 1500 and 3000 meters. Birds are plentiful. Alpine, Mediterranean and northern European species can be found in the Pyrenees and the nearby dry valleys and foothills at various times of the years. Although August is the quietest month for birds, we were not disappointed.
Up early our first day, the five of us agreed to go on a search for a very elusive, small grey bird called a wallcreeper. A narrow, dark, dripping tunnel appropriately named Boca del Infierno, or Hell's Mouth, carries a small mountain road through a rocky gorge in the mountains. The gorge on either side of the tunnel has been a good place to find wallcreepers, as they glean insects from the crevices in the rocks and walls. This area in the northern Hecho Valley, about 50 km northwest of Jaca, is one of the lowest and most accessible places in the Pyrenees where wallcreepers can be found.
On our way to the Valley, we made a stop on a stone bridge over the Rio Aragon. Crag martins coursed the wide, shallow river as it chattered over rocks. A bit farther north, the Hecho Valley is broad and open: perfect country for raptors. We got our first of many red kites, Egyptian vultures, (Eurasian) griffon vultures, a booted eagle, a spotted flycatcher and the lammergier.
We had stopped along the quiet two-lane road to scope the booted eagle when John had glimpsed the lammergier from the corner of his eye. Our grins were a mile wide. As we celebrated the raptor with cookies and coffee, an elderly Basque gentleman stopped to chat. We were at least 10 km from any town or settlement and he was out briskly walking, black beret cocked over one eye. With his few English words, our basic Spanish and many smiles and gestures we learned about the grey herons that fish in the nearby river and the vultures that feed on carcasses in the fields. He wished us well and continued on his long walk to somewhere.
As we made our way north through the Hecho Valley, passing through the town of Hecho, we left open, sunny country behind. Grey rock ravines dropped to an icy mountain stream that followed along the road. The rock was dotted with a curious alpine saxifrage that looks just like a pale green sea anemone. By now the wind had picked up and a fine cold rain was sweeping down the narrow valley in soaking gusts. When we reached the dripping tunnel, the Boca del Infierno, we spaced ourselves along the ravine on each side and began a search for wallcreepers. This is popular country for camping and hill walking. Many people passed us in cars, on bicycles and on foot, always polite and sometimes curious about why we persistently scanned the high rock face across the road. Most of the hikers carried walking sticks and some of the men sang what sounded like arias in clear voices as they walked. The songs, combined with the soft 'clonk-bonk' of the large bells worn by the sheep in the area, were a hauntingly pleasant sound.
We spent forty wet, cold minutes looking for the elusive bird. Our binocular lenses were wet and the fine, drifting rain settled on our clothes. A lunch break was in order. We found a camp ground along a shallow mountain stream where we sat sheltered on some rocks among alpine Queen Ann's lace, delicate pale blue campanula, tiny pinks nodding in the wind and mauve wild geranium. The campers seemed unfazed by the rain as they picnicked outside, walked and sang. Their good-natured cheerfulness was an antidote.
Stay tuned for more birding in Spain.
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