Isla Grasiosa, Canary Islands

Peregrine anchored off Isla Graciosa.  The cliffs in the photo are Lanzarote.
 September 18, 2008
I got up for the third and last time at 5:30am. That was about a half hour ago. Gene must have been up at least that many times, maybe more.  My first wake up came when I thought I heard rain.  I got up to shut the hatches but realized that the rain sound came from our plastic American flag flicking madly in the wind that had gathered  while we slept.  It sounded so much like rain that I stuck my hand out from under the dodger just to be sure—no rain.  I crawled back into the v-berth and was asleep before my head hit the pillow.  Later, the howling of the wind woke me.  Gene was awake and said he had been up earlier to shut all the hatches because of the rain.  He was up now because hadn’t tightened them down and the wind had blown so fiercely that it had driven the rain through the microscopic gap in the forward hatch and had soaked his bed.  Maybe it was raining when I first got up after all; I must have been more tired than I thought.  I was in the aft cabin.  I chose to sleep back there because we both stink!  We were going to take showers last night, but it was too cold.  Neither one of use wanted to subject ourselves to a shower in a cold, windy cockpit.  We went to bed stinky.
After our morning coffee, Gene removed the dinghy from its canvas bag and pumped it up while I dug out the oars and seat.  I used a few baby wipes and cleaned off enough to go ashore and bird.  I figured I’d wait till after birding for a real shower (if you can call a scrubbing with a soapy wash cloth followed by a rinse with a bug sprayer a shower).  I cleaned my binoculars and put in new contacts in preparation for new birds.  I knew I’d be out for a few hours so I threw an apple in the back pack along with the hat, water, field guide, camera and bins.

It was a calm morning and Gene dropped me off at the closest point on shore.  He rowed on to the town to take in our trash.  We arranged he would pick me up at the same spot in a few hours.  Invariably, a few hours for me turns into four or five, so we set up the usual ‘look out every half hour’ system.  He would read, drink beer and eat peanuts while I birded and pop his head out the hatch every half hour to see if I was ready to come back aboard.

 I gave this Island a Peregrine’s Magical Spot award.  I really thought about it before bestowing this rarely awarded honor.  I questioned my feelings. I thought that maybe I was enthralled because I hadn’t been away from the madding crowds for so long, or that it was so good to finally finish another long passage that ANYTHING related to terra-firma would have been magical.  The whole time my mind questioned, my soul whispered, “Stop rationalizing.  Just look.  Just listen.  Just feel the uniqueness.”  This Island is a very special place, and without doubt deserves the award.
We are about fifty miles from the African coast; seemingly separated from the rest of the world by vast amounts of Atlantic Ocean water.  Then why does it look like we turned left at Albuquerque?
Yellow-legged Gulls and Sandwich Terns flew overhead and Gene spotted the first bird on the shore as we got close.  I got out of the dink and he pointed me to the bird; even then I had a hard time seeing it.  It was a Kentish Plover in a depression of the lava rock tide pool. I scanned the shore and noticed a few others camouflaged on the lava.  A Ringed Plover, two Sanderlings and several more Kentish Plovers.

I followed a trail in the sand that led inland through the dunes.  It wasn’t long before I heard and saw a Berthelot’s Pipit.  I walked further in and stopped in a spot that was surrounded by low, scrubby dunes.  The ground and scrub seemed to be alive with the pipits.  I stood and watched them stretch to catch bugs that flew around the bases of the bushes, then quickly run to another and feast from it.  Sometimes they’d fly to the top of a shrub and perch for a second or two.  This was the first time in a long time that I had been birding and the birds let me look at them.  I’ve found the birds in the Med. to be very leery of people; and rightly so, they are unbelievably persecuted in many Mediterranean countries. (I will address that subject in a separate post, eventually.  Possibly.  Much of it sickens me to the point where I don’t want to write or think about it, but it’s not an issue to be ignored.)
I walked to a small, walled-in cemetery and close to it was a hose with a leak.  A tiny fountain sprang from it and a pipit was enjoying the spray off of it.  Another bird flew out from under a shrub and I watched it land low in another bush.  I got my bins on it and realized I had a new warbler, and I was pretty sure it was a Spectacled.  I had studied this bird before because I thought I had one on Mallorca but had such a brief look that I couldn’t list it.  I have had trouble with some of the warblers in the Med/Europe; they can be frustratingly similar and too fast to really see well enough to id for the first (or second or third) time.  I lowered the bins and turned the camera on to full zoom. I have learned that I might not get another chance at some birds and getting an image is important.  I clicked off a few distant shots and hoped I had more than a fuzzy blob. I stood in the bright sun and shaded the viewer with my hand.  I could see a reddish brown on the wing and a ‘spectacled’ eye.  “Yes, I get to add you to my list after all!”  As I was basking in my success, I heard a very loud call.  It was easy to tune in and find the source.  Sitting atop the cross that graced the locked gates of the cemetery was a Great Grey Shrike.  He was noisily expressing his disapproval of my being there. The one I saw in Cabo de Gata on the Costa del Sol, Spain, wouldn’t let me get within 100 yards of it but this guy allowed me a very good look.  I snapped off a few shots before moving off. 
I walked toward the little harbor town of Caleta del Sebo, and checked it out on my way to the shore.  I saw Turnstones, more Yellow-legged Gulls (Canary Island race), Sanderlings, B. Pipits, and Collared Doves.
I decided to head back inland and walk across the island.  As I went, the wind picked up and dark clouds began to blow over from Lanzarote.  I needed to head back.  I saw the Shrike again and more Hoopoes and pipits.  Gene must have seen me walking because he was on his way as I reached our point.  There was some wave action and I decided I needed to wade out to get past the waves. We were both a bit worried about getting off without a soaking, but my old, fat, arthritic body must have had an ancient memory of its athletic youth and I got in as gracefully as could be done.
I didn’t like having my birding day cut short, but I will go back tomorrow and get closer to the hills where I saw raptors.  I am hoping for Barbary Falcons.
Berthelot's Pipit

Isla Graciosa:
Berthelot’s Pipit /Anthus bertholotii bertholotii
Hoopoe/Upupa epops
Kestrel/Falco tinnunculus dacotiae *
Southern Grey Shrike/Great Grey Shrike/Lanius excubitor koenigi  or algeriensis  *??--Whatever, it was a shrike!
Spectacled Warbler/Sylvia conspicillata orbitalis*
Collared Dove/Streptopelia decaocta

Sandwich Tern/Sterna sandvicensis
Turnstone/Arenaria interpres
Sanderling/Calidris alba
Kentish Plover/Charadrius alexandrinus
Ringed Plover/Charadrius hiaticula
Cory’s Shearwater/Calonectris diomedea borealis (Off-shore, as we sailed in.)
Gannet/Sula bassana (Off-shore, as we sailed in.)
Little Egret/Egretta garzetta
Raven/Corvus corax tingitanus  * 
*According to my Canary Island bird book, these would be the appropriate races for the birds I saw, but  I don’t know for certain if I have the subspecies right.  The shrike looked like the Lanius excubitor algeriensis illustration in my Collins guide and I had it down as that until I noticed the endemic subspecies listed in  A Birdwatcher’s Guide to the Canary Islands by Tony Clarke and David Collin

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