The Black Eagle Project

So here I sit at Ashanti Backpackers in Cape Town.  A grey windy and wet day to write while passing the time, reflecting on the last ten days of bliss.  This was a self-inspired trip to visit TheBlack Eagle Project, PhD research initiated by Megan Murgatroyd.  Megan is now in the third field season of research comparing land use and productivity of the (relatively) pristine population of the cederberg Black (nee Verreaux) Eagles, and the eagles of the Sandveld which are living next to lands with extensive agricultural transformation.

On the 6^th of September (happy birthday to me!) I flew from Durban to Cape Town, and boarded an evening supersonic taxi to Clanwilliam.  Megan met me here at 10pm and we began the hour-long drive to the field site, the gravel road endlessly evolving in the headlights.  Arriving at night meant I had no idea what landscape to expect in the morning.  On the first frosty dawn, the sun peaked over the eastern mountains and slowly warmed the valley.  The field house is part of the Driehoek farm, passionate sponsors of Megan’s research and, surrounded by the Cederberg Wilderness Area, perfectly situated for access the study site.  Driehoek is a great place to set up camp on one of their camping/caravan sites if you’re inspired to come and visit.

Spring comes to the cederberg now.  And the flowers were beginning to bloom.  To the south the fynbos dominates, and to the dryer northern slopes different colours representing succulent karoo. Mountains loom over the colourful valleys with tiered expanses of cliffs and crags providing an abundance of nesting opportunities for eagles and other raptors.  We spotted plenty of kestrels and booted eagles, and despite their absence no doubt the cliffs would be full of peregrine and lanner falcons as well.  In the river valleys, reed beds provide all that a Black Harrier would need, and the old oak trees around the homesteads also home to a Black Sparrowhawk.  I noticed a theme here - so I dressed in black every day - there must be some reason it works so well for mountain raptors.

While most of the nests in the cederberg have not bred this year (for reasons to be determined), we set out each day for short walks to nearby nest observation sites.  Invariably each site had some sort of eagle entertainment to watch.  On one occasion during the 1 hour watch, while being amused by the wing-flapping exercises of the eyass, the pair of adults appeared over the top of the ridge.  While one adult descended to the nest site to deliver fresh prey to the waiting chick, the other coming from an unknown location, tucked into a steep glide, building up speed and rushing by just 30 meters from us, before continuing out over the deep valley beyond.  At another site, the pair cautiously checked these bipedal intruders into their territory, drifting back and forth in front of the nesting cliff in the most majestic style before coming to perch together on a distant ridgetop buttress.

Three active nests were visited, including one that was a new discovery for the season – a site that takes an hour of bone-rattling driving and then a short hill hike to get to.  The bakkie ‘Ratel’ has done some rough miles over the last few years, and there have been countless flat tires to fix.  It takes guts and mettle to face these boulder strewn slopes, and trek miles through them day after day searching for nests.  And mettle Meg has in spades, attested to by a titanium pin, the result of a compound fracture while boulder hopping a stream early on in the project.  To strengthen the ankles again and blast through another two seasons is testament to the determination and passion for the Black Eagles.

Ratel in the karoo blooms

I battled to get far enough uphill of Meg to take this perspective shot

Happily, there was something useful I could help with.  On day three we set off early towards Tafelberg, the second highest summit in the range.  Up on the last plateau before the summit sat a VHF relay station to download GPS tagged eagles - this had been pounded by recent storms, the unit was silent and the aerial broken.  So after a 2 hour uphill hike (passing a lifer, a pair of Cape Rockjumper’s on the way), we reached the base station, stopped for lunch, admired the scenery, and then loaded the equipment, Megan with the batteries and downloader and I with the 9 ft aerial, descending back to the field base.  A few days later I was to get another remarkable perspective of Tafelberg peak.

For some weeks Megan has been preparing to repeat the helicopter surveys that proved so successful last season.  The 2012 helicopter surveys were in November, when many nest had fledged, this year the surveys were timed earlier to be able to locate the nests while chicks were still at home. Unfortunately, September surveys coincided with the aviation students’ exam time, and there were limited numbers of pilots and budgets available to fly the crags of the cederberg, cutting down on the previous years available flying time.

 

On Wednesday evening, the two two-seater R22 ‘matchbox’ helicopters arrived.  They were covered in their blankets for the night.  The sun peered over the ridgetops the next morning and gradually softened the frost.  But the helicopters were hypothermic after such a cold night.  Theres something disconcerting with helping jumpstart toy helicopters that we’re supposed to be airborn minutes later, moreso when one of them refuses - having blown some electrics around the solenoid or alternator.  Without power for the radio’s and gauges the pilots decided that it should stay grounded until the flight back to cape town airport. So down to one helicopter for the survey.

Happy with the jumper leads, the second chopper roared to life, and the first flight was up and out by 9am. Megan logged four flights, surveyed 28 nests, and added three new nest sites to the known population!  Incredible success for five hours airborne.   Then as 4pm rolled around, there was one hour left before sunset, the chopper refuelled and Megan offered me an opportunity to fly a transect.  Taking a direct line over the Tafelberg neck where days ago we’d hiked 2 hours up the mountain, in 7 minutes we crested the ridge, and descended to the other side, passing the Die Hoek nest site that takes over an hour to drive to.  Passing over a waterfall, another plateau and then into a cavernous gorge on the Tra-tra River.  After taking several runs at gps marks on tiered cliffs, it was quickly apparent this was no walk in the park – despite being just tens of meters from the cliffs. Eventually, I spotted one of the sites, apparently recently used but definitely empty.  And all too soon with fuel and sunlight running out it was time to turn tail and head back over the ranges to base.  We passed by the Tafelberg neck again just as the setting sun poured red light over the rust coloured rocks.

The following morning, rolling clouds and high winds forced the pilots to beat an early departure from these changeable mountains, flying in tandem back to CapeTown so the bird with the radio’s could get ground clearance for the crippled craft.  Meanwhile Megan and I walked to Uilsgat Rock to sit under an old bushman shelter, with weathered rock art, the old bushman's shelter was a great place to chill and maybe see a pair, despite an inactive nest this year.

After eight days of blue blue skies and softly winds, yesterday morning I woke to the rain streaking sideways across the valley.  Time to hitch a lift back to Cape Town then.  The week has given me a very constructive time to discuss all thoughts of eagles, the trials and successes of the research.  The environments our respective eagles call home definitely determine much of the rest of how the research plays out.  And I find myself somewhat envious of Megan’s remote little mountain paradise (inspiring landscapes, melt-water streams, pure fresh air), while also appreciating the benefits of urban research (smooth roads, passionate public participation, and access to… well civilization).  Now I’m looking forward to getting home to the crowned eagles to perhaps see the first hatched chicks of the season.

A Jackal Buzzard

It was a pleasure to spend a Saturday out helping Dr. Jordaan with her research on the Jackal Buzzards of the higher altitude areas of southern KZN.  The primary goal was to try and retrieve a dysfunctional satellite transmitter from the back of one of the research birds.  We’d also move along the route hoping to ring and collect data from as many more buzzards as we could. Rin is gathering data on the dispersion, movements, genetics, biometrics, and colour morphology of this population.  

Stating at dawn at Fort Nottingham, we arrived on site at the last known hangout of ‘Solo’.  Solo had regularly been spending most of her time along a short section of road, and had become wise to the team, vehicle, and tactics.  Even so, despite spending most of the prime trapping hours –the first two hours of morning -  travelling back and fourth on a short section of road looking for her unfortunately she was to evade our searches. 

Early in the morning, also in her ‘territory’ we spotted another buzzard on a telephone pole and soon the day was off to a start.  This buzzard had a surprising amount of white on its mantle, and during the course of the day I paid more and more attention to the variability of the buzzards. These birds have a striking variation in the combination of the three colours that mix upon the breast; white, rufous and a dark chocolate brown.

Jackal Buzzards are endemic to southern Africa, with a very similar looking buzzard, the Augur, in Zimbabwe and north.  The apparently peculiar name is given because their call is eerily similar to the howl of the black-backed jackal.

While they seem to be lazy loafers, and in our area on of the more commonly sighted birds of roadside and agricultural areas, the Jackal Buzzard should not be under-appreciated.  They love rodents, and probably serve a huge service to agricultural crops by homing in on areas of high rodent numbers.  Its often commented that they have a surprising strength in their feet… I would know... yes, I've bled more than once because of this. Thankfully though I have not had the same experience that a friend of mine had, a talon right thru the thumb muscle, from the outside in, the point of the talon pushing at the skin like a miniature Alien wanting to erupt from his palm.

Maybe it’s the availability of telephone poles along the roads, or whether it’s the width of exposure that a rodent faces should it decide to cross a road, the jackal buzzards are very often seen perched up scanning the road verges for prey.  They seem pretty accustomed to traffic just as long as you don’t do anything out of the ordinary – like slow down or point a camera!  Long-creasted eagles, black-shouldered kites, and in summer steppe buzzards, are also frequent ‘roadside raptors’ to target.

My task was to be the designated driver for the day… and not an easy task at that.  While it can be the best place to spot birds on the road ahead, and to be in the prime view to the potential trapee’s actions - it demands all-round awareness, particularly to monitor the traffic and position the trap drops as best as possible without flushing a roadside bird.

The rest of the day was spent travelling the roads set against the foothills of the world heritage region of the Drakensberg mountains – and with the hawk-eyed Ben Hoffman in the shotgun seat, we were virtually guaranteed to spot plenty of birds today!

Travelling from Fort Nottingham across to Underberg and returning to Pietermaritzburg on dusk, we’d travelled over 300km.  Shortly after releasing the first buzzard of the day, Ben identified a female red-chested sparrowhawk displaying over a small copse of pines.  Not long after that the sight of several huge silhouettes had us skid to a stop.  Nothing is more unmistakable than the silhouette of a Bearded Vulture, or three, and with them a few Cape Griffons thermalling over some unseen farmland carcass a few hundred meters away.

The clouds burned off and the glare of the alpine sun warmed us as midday approached. There seemed a never ending occurrence of ‘jaybees’ as we racked up the miles.  Plenty of excitement and action as birds showed interest in the traps, and also plenty of disappointments as thru various means; lack of interests, and more frustratingly, traffic, caused us to abandon many a bird.  By the end of the day my concentration was sapped, and my eyes were raw with the effects of the glare, dust, and unblinking binocular use. 

But what a day! After 300km and 9 hours on the road, I have approximate counts of

32 Jackal Buzzard (4 ringed and released)

7 Cape Vulture

3 Bearded Vulture

3 Long-crested Eagle

3 Secreatry Bird

1 Red-chested Sparrowhawk
1 Verreaux Eagle

…and the day ended on a high with

1 Martial Eagle

Into the 'Berg

The entrance gate to Injisuthi

I have just returned from a fantastic three days in the Drakensberg mountains.  I had the pleasure of being invited to help out with a camping and self-development trip.  This is a three day, two night, camping trip that is organised by the Wilderness Training Programme every two years for Waterfall College year 11 and 12’s. 

This year we had a large group.  The hike was headed by Adam White, and alongside me were the three other guides from African Quest, preparing for their Zambian mission by spending a month here in South Africa. We were to watch over the safety of 44 students, take them up to the Grindstone Caves in Injisuthi.  The area is in the northern section of the Golden Gates area of Ukhahlamba Drakensberg Park, a UNESCO World Heritage Site and wilderness area. One of just two UNESCO natural heritage sites in South Africa, the Drakensberg is a stunning topographical feature of sandstone cliffs and crags, with rich highland grasslands and crystal clear streams.

The hike up to the Grindstone Caves was a challenge for some, taking four hours to get there in the heat of the afternoon.  We arrived to a pair of caves, the boys squishing into a low roofed dome with a spluttering waterfall offering drinking water and cold showers.  While the group was briefed at this first cave, I pushed on to set up at the girls cave, and steal a quick shower at the waterfall there before the gaggle arrived.  I slept up the top end of the girls cave with my panga and can of mace under my pillow, though I don’t know how much use I would have been if there really was an invasion by baboons or basotho’s.

the Grindstone caves are tucked away under the ledge to the left

young berg adder, maybe

After a very difficult night sleep, thanks to a terrible unnamed snorer nearby, I woke just a little grumpy.  The dawn sun pouring on the mountainside warmed the evaporating dew, and my mood, and we readied the group for a day of activities. After breakfast we started off descending a few hundred meters to the river, where frigid berg water thundered off a waterfall into a shallow plunge pool.  The refreshing dip was followed by a sweaty return up the mountain to the caves. After lunch, the group sidled along the ridge a short distance to another open overhang.  Here were a few beautiful bushman paintings, unfortunately extensively vandalized from many years of abuse and thieving hands.  Adam and I then took a group of seven keen lads on a more challenging 10 km mountain hike to a ridge summit.

On this particular hike, while trudging along the track, single file in peaceful quiet, I began to enjoy the rhythmic breathing, the quiet introspection, and the majesty of the mountains.  I reflected on the amazing months spend hiking and raptor surveying in solitude in the Mongolian mountains.  I recalled a particular ritual performed by the mongolians, and it has been so long, too long, since I last did this.

A feature of mountain passes and summits in Mongolia is the presence of magnificent ovuu (cairn of stones).  The Ovuu are piled high with stones carried from lower down, cluttered with bottles of vodka, and wads of tugrik (money) as offerings.  Tied to sticks embedded within the ovuu are streams of blue silk, flapping into the winds in much the same way as the more familiar Tibetan prayer flags do.  Making offerings to the Eternal Blue Sky and to bless the four winds, while walking three times around the ovuu, for past, present, and future, this was a regular ritual performed while I was there.

Now, perched atop this particular miniature summit in Injisuthi, sits an embryonic ovuu of its own.

a magnificent mongolian ovuu

a uKhahlamba Drakensberg ovuu

The few days was over too quickly and yesterday morning, we packed up the crew and descended back to the main camp.  Had a great lunch (it only takes two days to get over a staple diet of cold cans of spaghetti meatballs and energy bars), and pushed the students back onto the bus back to Durban.

I hope its not too long before returning to The Berg, and hopefully next time to challenge myself on an epic hike.  Next time I might also have time for some birding and wildlife watching. Next time maybe, I will get my Bearded Vulture and Drakensberg Rockjumper.

the adventure group descending the ridge summit

Waterfall College descending from the caves on friday morning