Akrotiri Marsh, the home of countless bird species and two bird hides for people to watch them. But with one over-enthusiastic boy, one under-enthusiastic baby and an impending thunderstorm, did we stand a chance in hell of seeing anything?
Goobie has two obsessions at the moment – my old G9 Canon camera and bird spotting. Our garden is full of birdsong. There’s the twittering of babies in the pine trees and the coos of wood pigeons and collared doves. There’s the angry ‘piss off!’ shrieks of the Cyprus pied wheatears as they dive-bomb the cats and the placating tones of the sparrows.
In spring we occasionally see a hoopoe on the bondu behind our garden, but they are very nervy and you can’t get near them.
And then there’s the infamous hooded crows or Warb-Warbs, as Goobie calls them, after their loud ‘warb-warb’ squawks. They are the bird mofos of the neighborhood, stealers of baguettes and murderers of baby birds.
So, with the sound of birdsong ringing in his ears, Goobie began his bird spotting in the garden – sat on a chair in the middle of the patio with his left eye pressed against the camera’s viewfinder. He didn’t spot anything but I could hear the birds shrieking with laughter as they watched him from behind the dense branches of the pines.
He moved to a more secluded spot on the veranda and a kindly swallow gave him a one-second acrobatic display as it shot past. Click went the camera.
‘Ah, missed it!’ I heard him say.
He retreated into the house and watched from the window. A couple of sparrows on the roof of the house opposite. A Warb-Warb on its way to steal something. After an hour, all he had to show for his bird spotting were a few photos of sky with a blurred dot in the distance.
I felt bad for him. Then I remembered a neighbour telling me about some good bird hides he’d been to near Akrotiri Salt Lake. I phoned for directions and we set off, following the B6 – the old Paphos to Limassol road.
On the way, we spotted the most impressive bird that I’ve seen in Cyprus, the massive Griffon vulture. The wingspan of these guys is over two metres long. Griffon vultures are rare but I frequently see them on the stretch of the B6 that passes the British military camp near Episkopi. They ride the thermals with such grace. Mesmerising.
Driving past Kourion, down the M1 and onto the road that leads to Akrotiri village, we turned off to the left along the road signposted to Malcolm’s Cat Sanctuary. We kept going until we saw a sign for Akrotiri Marsh telling us to follow a road on the left. Both hides are on the right-hand side of this road. Herc’s half marathon had taken us through this area, though I never saw the hides.
While I wrestled with the buggy, Goobie shot out of the car and ran down the long path towards the first hide. Herc was asleep so the plan was to transfer him, still asleep, to the buggy to continue the rest of his morning nap, while I spotted birds with Goobie. Why am I always insanely optimistic about Herc and pushchairs? He was awake the minute head met buggy.
Undeterred, I gave him a toy and pushed him into the hide. The hide was great! It was on a pretty spot at the edge of the reed beds. There’s a bench inside and an area for wheelchairs. Running around the viewing window is a shelf with the pictures and names of birds for you to identify. Goobie loved this. We sat down and waited.
Over the next hour, I learned many things about bird spotting and photography. I will share them with you.
Things that make bird spotting difficult:
If birds are spotted, things that make photographing them difficult:
Goobie watched patiently for a surprising amount of time, getting incredibly excited every time he saw a swallow.
Suddenly we heard a loud squawking from the reeds. Goobie shot up, eyes alight.
‘WHAT’S THAT?’ He bellowed.
And everything went silent.
Occasionally a dark bird-thing would torpedo out of the reed beds and zoom past. Goobie click-click-clicked the camera. But he was already facing the wrong direction.
‘Missed me!’ The bird-bastard squealed as it disappeared.
A smiling, child-free bird spotter walked into the hide. She scanned the area then nonchalantly lifted up a camera the size of a missile launcher. With both hands.
One ‘click’, then she walked back out again.
Show off.
My best shot
For some time I’d been aware of a rumbling sound in the distance. It was getting louder. I looked behind us and there was a massive wall of black cloud heading towards us. The cows in the fields were getting restless. We needed to go but I desperately wanted Goobie to see something exciting.
And then, a little white egret walked out of the reeds to say hello to the cows. It strolled around, stopping for photos. Goobie was beside himself and ran down his camera’s battery photographing it. I loved that egret. It didn’t mind the bald-headed banshee in the pushchair or the excited cries of a seven year-old bird spotter. It was totally chilled.
We dashed to the car, expecting a torrent to land on our heads. But the storm was in a lazy mood and gave us time to pop into the second bird hide down the road. This was in the middle of the reed bed, overlooking two ponds. You had to climb some stairs to the viewing platform.
We looked down and, honestly, it was like clubbing central. Birds bopping, soaring, dive-bombing into the pond. We just needed some Hardcore House and we’d be sorted. This was clearly the place to be.
I thought the bopping birds were swallows but Goobie had found them on the identification shelves in the hide. He condescendingly informed me that ‘they are Northern House Martins actually, Mummy.’
Whatever.
The storm was now spitting out lightning and so, while I hastily explained why being the highest point in a thunderstorm wasn’t a good idea, we legged it back to the car.
I was really impressed with the bird hides. They are easy to miss but they are well done and brilliantly located. I can imagine you could spend a really peaceful morning in them, spotting loads of different species.
For now, I will have to keep imagining.
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