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An entry to our 2019 Writing Competition, Karen Sparks travelled on our 'Spain - Ronda & The Strait of Gibraltar' tour.
I have always been enthralled by the mystery of migration, and the old theory that swallows hibernate in pond mud hardly seems more fanciful than believing that these fragile birds fly across continents twice each year.
On this Naturetrek adventure, with the misty mountainous coast of Morocco visible just 14 km across the Strait of Gibraltar, we witnessed the miracle of migration in all shapes and sizes, from the delicate flame-coloured Monarch butterfly to the majestic Griffon Vultures, and all variations in between! We learned a little of the science of migration, from our tour leaders Simon and Niki, who generously shared some of their expertise and passion, and this has only increased my sense of wonder.
At a perfect vantage point for sea-watching we were greeted by a flying pink ribbon of Greater Flamingoes, threading across the sparkling sea where the Mediterranean meets the Atlantic. Through our tour-leaders’ telescopes (Simon’s “man-scope” and Niki’s “girl-scope” being equally effective!) we saw dusky outlines of Cory’s Shearwaters, skimming the waves as they flew in an endless stream.
Bauble-shaped parties of twittering passerines passed below us, taking a short cut across the warm grassy slope; serins and goldfinches flashing yellow in the sunshine. Sandwich Terns and gannets patrolled the waves, cleaving white arrows against the blue. A Red-rumped Swallow darted overhead, glimpsed by a lucky few, accompanied by a late house martin, a familiar silhouette from home. On the headland beside us we were entertained by confiding Cirl Buntings, and Sardinian Warblers, our constant companions, darting in and out of scrub.
However, the undoubted stars of this trip were the glorious Griffon Vultures. We were privileged to spend hours watching these magnificent masters of the air, often at close quarters. At one site we watched hundreds of them gathering from all directions, coming together in the late afternoon light to their communal roost on the limestone crags. They circled and cruised and squabbled, adjusting and readjusting their landing approach until each found just the right ledge or crevice, and maybe the most agreeable neighbours, for the night! Amongst them was a joyful swirling vortex of aerobatic Red-billed Choughs, wheeling and diving and chough-ing to each other – and perhaps to us too, we clumsy land-bound mammals on the ground below them.
Simon explained to us the extraordinary life cycle of Griffons; that they migrate only once, in their first year of life across to Africa where they stay until they reach sexual maturity, when they will return home to seek a mate, and live out their lives.
One early morning we watched Griffons floating up into the blue from their overnight roosts in the surrounding mountains – in tens, twenties, fifties…. hundreds. The adults gradually dispersed across the skyscape. But the youngsters behaved differently – they remained closer together, soaring higher on thermals, their numbers building as they gained altitude, and then they turned, almost as one, facing the direction of Africa.
All our eyes were fixed skyward as waves of Griffons flanked the coastline, feeling the wind and perhaps testing their nerve, before committing – or not – to the risky flight across the Strait.
Would their strong instinct to migrate overcome the caution that keeps them safe the rest of the time? Were the conditions right this day, was the wind direction and strength in their favour or against, for these young birds to risk the crossing? How do they decide?
However many went or stayed, on this day and on all the subsequent days, we knew only the fittest would survive the crossing without the benefit of thermal currents to lift them to safety.
Painstaking observation and research are providing more information than we’ve ever had about migration – but I’m glad we don’t know all the answers, and that there is still room for wonder and awe.
At the end of a wonderful holiday I made my own migration home. The Boeing 737 was buffeted and bounced by the gales, and the pilot apologised that the journey would take an hour longer than scheduled because we were flying into a strong head-wind…. my thoughts turned back to the Griffons, and their individual battles with head-winds and cross-winds and no-winds – and I willed them silently, safe passage to Africa.
Read more about our 'Spain - Ronda & The Strait of Gibraltar' holiday.