Blue flycatchers

It has been a while since I saw blue flycatchers in Mbale, even though they are reasonably common around here. What a pleasure it was early this morning to come across a pair of them just a few feet away from where I was walking. Almost completely powder blue, crested, never still, frequently fanning their tails and keeping up a lively chittering as they chased each other through the lantana bushes--it was a delight to see them.

I was also treated this morning to stunning views of a male scarlet-chested sunbird and very close-up looks at a male olive-bellied sunbird.

Recently noted

African hobby -- brief look at a pair of them early one evening from the verandah atop our garage; the time of day when bats begin flying and the palm swifts were still out in numbers, either of which would make fine menu items for the hobbies

African paradise flycatcher -- second sighting in a month or so, and still quite unusual for within Mbale town

Bat hawk -- spotted on two early-morning outings; the first one was probably sharing in the general feeding frenzy on a flight of the winged reproductive versions of one of the larger termite varieties

Tropical boubou -- ran across a pair dueting (which is what alerted me to their presence about 30 meters off the road I was on); I've observed these only a few times in this neighborhood during our eleven years in Mbale

This morning there were noticeably fewer than usual yellow-billed kites in flight around the area. In 30 minutes or so I saw two, I think, compared with the 30-40 I would have expected based on what I've been seeing in recent months. Makes me wonder if most of them may be gearing up to move out of these parts for a while.

Also this morning I got close to a mvuli tree from which a giant (Verreaux's) eagle owl was grunting; short on time, I couldn't stay long enough to locate it among the branches.

Near a swampy area along the municipal golf course I came across a winding cisticola, which I've not usually met that close to town (they are common just outside in the wetlands just west of town).

There have been a pair, at least, of red-billed oxpeckers turning up in our part of town the past two or three weeks. We evidently have enough people keeping cows around here to provide a sufficient supply of ticks and other parasites to support them.

More cuckoos

Since hearing the Klaas's cuckoo calling the other day for the first time in a while, I've noticed their signature sound just about every day. A couple of days ago, over on the north side of Mbale along Nabuyonga stream, I was surprised to hear another trademark African voice from the same family: that of the diederick cuckoo. These birds are named for their call, which goes something like "dee-dee-dee-deederick!" -- with the emphasis at the end. Diederick cuckoos tend to inhabit somewhat warmer areas than Klaas's cuckoos, and it's a little unusual in my experience to find them together in the same neighborhood.

Note on pictures

Copyright law does not allow the display on a website of pictures taken by someone else without prior written permission. So I'll limit my occasional posting of bird images to pictures I've taken myself. I do recommend, though, that if you'd like to have a look at a bird that I write about encountering, just use Google or another search engine to do an image search on the bird's name. In most cases, you'll get a number of excellent pictures to view.

Here today, gone tomorrow

The male Klaas's cuckoo is a dapper fellow, metallic forest green above and mainly white below. That green and white pattern camouflages him perfectly when he's high in a full-foliaged tree (which is where he prefers to hang out). Usually the only thing that gives his presence away is his distinctive and oft-repeated whistling call, one of the characteristic sounds of woodland in this part of Africa. The other day I heard this signature sound up in a tree beside the road I was on; didn't see the bird, but was glad to get a call from him, so to speak. It's been a number of months since I've heard one, and in the few days since then I haven't heard one calling again. He may have been just passing through.

Speaking of birds that are sometimes here and sometimes not, the grey-capped warbler is another one. These tend to be much harder to observe than Klaas's cuckoo, not only because of their grey and green coloration but also because they normally stay well within dense thicket or undergrowth. I tried for many months to get a glimpse of this bird that regales the neighborhood with an extraordinarily loud and varied series of call notes before I finally laid eyes on one. For some reason, though, since returning to Uganda in October, I had not heard a grey-capped warbler sing until early in January. For a couple of weeks, then, I heard their calls several times, but not again since then. They have either moved on, perhaps according to some local migration pattern, or they are skulking in the hedges without vocally advertising their presence.
I'll mention one more that fits in the category of "here today, gone tomorrow"--the African black-headed oriole. For the past several weeks, beginning in December I think, I've been hearing one calling in the early part of the mornings of several days. About three times I've been treated to a sighting--most recently yesterday when one flew between trees not far above my head half a mile or so from our house. These encounters have reminded me that I also saw and heard these orioles several times in December 2005 and January 2006. I would guess that they may be in our area seasonally as intra-African migrants; or alternatively that they simply find it convenient to be here at this time because of the temporary availability of some particular type of food that they favor. The African black-headed oriole is extremely similar to the less widespread western black-headed oriole (which also occurs in our area, according to my field guide). One of my challenges is to observe these birds closely enough with binoculars at some point to be sure which of the two I've been seeing. Sometimes one arrives at a firm identification of a species only after months of peering and researching. Which I think makes reaching that conclusion all the more rewarding.

Mabira stopover

Last week I stopped overnight in Mabira Forest, about two hours' drive west of Mbale toward Kampala. While there I indulged in a late afternoon walk in the forest and another early the next morning. The number of bird species I saw/heard was somewhat less than average for birding in Mabira, but there were some notables, as always.

A few highlights:

*** In the weaver department, black-necked weaver and red-headed malimbe

*** Representing the turacos, the great blue turaco and black-billed turaco (voice only on the black-billed; these guys are fairly elusive in Mabira and I didn't get to lay eyes on one this time)

*** From the barbet and woodpecker families, speckled tinkerbird, grey-throated barbet, yellow-billed barbet (voice only), yellow-spotted barbet, and the diminutive buff-spotted woodpecker

*** Robins, thrushes and their kin -- forest robin and scaly-throated illadopsis

*** Greenbuls and allies -- saw a variety of these, but in most cases they exceeded my amateur forest-bird identification skills; I did run across several red-tailed bristlebills

*** Sunbirds -- would have expected more than I saw, but enjoyed sightings of olive and collared sunbirds

*** And my new species for the outing, Nahan's francolin -- these reclusive forest-dwellers start searching the fallen leaves and ground debris for food around sunset. They are extremely shy and difficult to observe, so I was more than a little pleased to come upon a family group of them on the trail in front of me as twilight was turning into evening darkness. They scattered on seeing me, but I was able to approach to within about 20 feet of them and get a brief look before they noticed.

*** Finally (stepping momentarily out of strictly birding mode), I had good views of red-tailed monkeys and red colobus monkeys.

Mannikins and mannikins

Mannikins are a family of finches so named, I would guess, because their dark heads, upperparts and chests with the rest of their underparts white gives the impression of a clothing-shop white mannequin on display with a dark coat on.

The bronze mannikin, sporting a dash of easily overlooked bronzy-green on its shoulders, is one of the most common and familiar little birds in Mbale, as in many other parts of Africa.

Less often seen (or recognized, at least) is the closely related black and white mannikin. The dark and light coloration patterns are similar in both species, and I can testify that they appear even more alike when you see them out and about. The best field mark for distinguishing them is the bit of white that extends up around the black bib on each side of the chest on the bronze mannikin. The black chest of the black and white mannikin makes a kind of waistcoat line all the way across the bird's breast, from one dark-hatch "sidebar" to the other on each side.

It is rare not to come across small family groups of bronze mannikins whenever you walk in our neighborhood. Seeing a group of black and whites is somewhat unusual here, however, so I was pleased the other day to observe both species on one outing.

The snake that wasn't

This morning my attention was drawn to the mix of small trees and various shrubs along the upper side of our compound. A small cacophony of avian hysteria, of the sort that typically announces the presence of a predator--cat, snake, owl, or something like that--made me sure that something was upsetting the frantic birds. As I approached, I noticed several species in the party, including olive-bellied sunbird, red-cheeked cordon-bleu, speckled mousebird, common bulbul, tawny-flanked prinia and white-browed robin chat. Scanning the branches and foliage to find out what they were upset about, I saw this:















That horizontal shadow running across the middle of the image is thicker than any of the other branches in the vicinity, and my first impression was exactly the same as the birds', I'm sure: This is one monster of a cobra!

Taking a closer look, though, I realized our collective mistake. The top third or so of the attenuated trunk of a pawpaw tree that has been dying for several months had finally bent over and was lying across the upper parts of the woody shrubs beneath it. The fact that it had not been there in that position before, its slightly curved shape, and the greyish, somewhat scalloped and scaly texture of its surface all combined to give a very snaky initial impression!

So, no snake on this occasion, and I'm not overly disappointed, even if I was temporarily the victim of a natural scam. It was at least as effective as a scarecrow in a grain field in fooling the local bird population, besides taking me in too.