Travelogue – Avifauna Namib-Zambezi – Sept. 2024

Travelogue: Avifauna Namib – Zambezi
September 2024

Guide: Albert Voigts von Schütz

Despite the Lufthansa strikes the previous week, our group arrived safely. Werner had traveled a day earlier, while the rest of the participants were eager to begin birdwatching immediately upon arrival. I’m always amazed by how much energy our guests have after an overnight flight. The first House Sparrows were spotted among the palm trees at the airport, and discussions about swifts began almost immediately… it was clear that interest was high—this trip promised to be exciting!

Our first stop took us to my friend Fritz’s farm, Monte Christo, along the Otjihavera dry riverbed. The area is known for its picturesque reservoirs and dense acacia vegetation—a perfect place to immerse ourselves in bushveld birdlife. At the first reservoir, which Fritz’s father had constructed, we found South African Shelduck, Ruff, Whistling Ducks, Little Grebes, an abundance of Egyptian Geese, and alongside the regular Three-banded Plovers, a few Kittlitz’s Plovers. While nothing extraordinarily rare was spotted, there was plenty to see, which was refreshing.

At the second reservoir, I noticed the ground beneath my car becoming increasingly soft. I thought I was out of danger by reversing, but as I tried to move forward briefly, we unexpectedly sank up to the axle in mud. It was particularly frustrating since Fritz was currently in Germany… but it’s not about what you know, it’s who you know! I called my old friend Hans Dieter Wiss, and he quickly arrived with a long steel cable, literally pulling us out of the muddy mess. I wanted to use the waiting time to observe some Violet Wood-hoopoe, but the strong dry wind ruined any chance of attracting those wonderful birds.

Ironically, it turned out to be quite fortunate that Werner had lost his binoculars. While I drove the car to the reception, a small group from our party scoured the path we had taken to find the binoculars. In the process, we were able to observe Rüppell’s Parrots. The Damara Hornbill, which we only saw once on this trip, also made it onto our list. Thus, the outing took a positive turn, and Werner was pleased to have his binoculars back.

I was feeling uneasy due to the strong wind, as we have already endured several years of drought, and this year has remained particularly dry. This wind would surely hinder our ability to find, attract, and, most importantly, see the birds, considering many might have completely left the area. “Work harder, work harder, work harder,” called the Ringnecked Dove, a message I took to heart, and which the group happily repeated in good humor. I was quite frustrated that, despite multiple efforts, we couldn’t find the Violet Wood-hoopoe just yet, though I knew of other good spots. However, a Pearl-spotted Owlet made a lovely and patient appearance for everyone—a small consolation.

Due to these events, we lost a lot of time and arrived quite late at Daan Viljoen, a small national park, at the lodge. The bungalows were very nice, and there was a great atmosphere during dinner. Day one down and the list… I may have been too open about my dislike for “list-making,” but Helge quickly changed my perspective: “It’s great to relive the success of the day.” However, as a guide, those lists also highlight the species we missed, which can be hard to swallow.

The next morning, we set out on a birding walk in Daan Viljoen. It was truly enjoyable as several water birds frolicked on the reservoir below the rooms, including two Blue-billed Teals. In the acacias, we were delighted by species like the Burnt-necked Eremomela, and even a Carp’s Tit made a high yet clear appearance in the eucalyptus trees. These trees were largely planted by botanists and missionaries to drain the area, which had once been heavily marshy and plagued by mosquitoes.

I won’t go into detail about every bird species in this report—those interested can view the bird list on eBird at:
https://ebird.org/tripreport/276111

Sidebar: As a guide, I also enjoy searching, driving, showing, and photographing, so one or two species might not get logged. I can’t constantly be staring at my phone! Trip participants are invited to contribute to the report, adding any missing species and uploading their own photos.

Before heading to the next lodge, we made a stop at Windhoek’s water treatment facility. The smell wasn’t exactly inviting, but the numerous Lesser Masked Weavers, Sacred Ibises, and White-throated Swallows, along with a highlight—a Little Bittern—lifted our spirits. A Willow Warbler engaged us in a longer conversation, while Cardinal Woodpeckers made their presence known with loud calls from a nearby tree. Overall, the detour was worth it, though we ended up leaving Windhoek later than planned.

The scenic route took us over the Khomas Highlands and eventually over Gamsberg Pass, where we observed some impressive Klipspringer antelopes. The breathtaking landscapes of the Namib Desert looked even more stunning in the late afternoon light. We witnessed the sunset behind a herd of Oryx before settling into the round bungalows of the Rostock Ritz Lodge. Kücki, the owner, welcomed us personally, and we enjoyed a delicious dinner.

I was a bit nervous because Lavinia had specifically booked this trip for the Dune Lark. She loves “those kinds of birds” and was quite concerned that we might not find them. I couldn’t guarantee the sighting and was already imagining alternate routes if we dipped today. Still, it was a super fresh morning, and the chances looked good! The thorn grass (Cladoraphis spinosa) showed a few dune ants, a promising indicator of a healthy lark habitat. I first spotted the tracks, then heard the characteristic chirping in the dunes. The larks appeared beautifully, and I was thrilled by the group’s enthusiasm. It’s incredibly rewarding when you can feel the guests’ love for nature and observation.

Ammomanopsis grayi grayi

After breakfast, the journey continued through the Gaub and Kuiseb Canyons until we reached the stunning granite landscape of the Tinkas Plain. Elke was so captivated by the scenery that she asked whether she should “write all of this down” or if I could compose a travel report instead. Unfortunately, it’s nearly impossible to adequately describe landscapes filled with whimsical granite sculptures adorned with a variety of succulents in all shapes and sizes. Due to time constraints, I drove past the quiver trees—apologies to Werner, I was already too far away to turn back… I regretted that decision, knowing how much Werner appreciated every effort to explore.

We spotted Gray’s Lark at several locations, even after I nearly—though not quite—lost hope after many kilometers in the desert. The Karoo Long-billed Lark also made a splendid appearance on the rough crystalline granite outcrops. There’s ongoing debate regarding this lark species, as it closely resembles the Benguela Long-billed Lark in this area. However, modern genetic evidence suggests it belongs to the Karoo complex, and I’m inclined to agree with that assessment.

Having previously observed the Karoo Eremomela near the now-dry Tinkas Reservoir, we decided to hike a bit in the sweltering heat—what a challenge for most! Unfortunately, it was in vain, and I felt particularly sorry for the older participants. It was brutally hot! Nonetheless, there were no complaints, just some louder grumbling later that we always arrived too late and had too little time for rest and personal care. Roadside birding does indeed eat up time, and time flies when you’re having fun.

The Rapmund Hotel received positive reviews from everyone, and after breakfast, we headed to the lagoon—but not before photographing a Black Sparrowhawk perched in an artificial palm tree, feasting on a mousebird, along with the charming Common Waxbills and Orange River White-eyes nearby.

The lagoon was filled with thousands of both Greater and Lesser Flamingos, and Chestnut-banded Plovers were abundant—by the hundreds at least. A small detour to the exposed rocks at Dolphin Beach during low tide thrilled the group as they spotted various shorebirds and African Oystercatchers. We then drove along the beach to the large bird island, constructed by Adolf Winter in the late 1920s, to observe the different cormorant species. Guano was being harvested, and I couldn’t help but think of my grandfather. His friendship with Adolf Winter, paired with his love for Rittmeister cigars, had him often say that Winter turned “shit into gold,” unlike his namesake in Germany, who turned “gold into shit.”

The meals at my favorite restaurants were excellent. Only poor Yvonne ordered the traditional Kapana, which I missed the chance to warn her about… I would have advised early caution with the more traditional dishes. However, she seemed quite satisfied—culinary folklore is part of the experience, after all, and there are indeed brave souls among us!

At Bird Paradise, we spotted additional Blue-billed Teals and had some fantastic sightings of swallows, along with the usual flamingos. An African Swamphen stood high in the reeds, gleaming like a gem atop a crown.

In Swakopmund, the car lock was quickly repaired, gin was purchased, coffee and cake were enjoyed at Two Beards, and we even did a bit of shopping.

Malcorus pectoralis ocularius

On the way back into the heat, we made a brief stop at Rössing Mountain. It was fantastic how the Rufous-eared Warbler responded to my call and presented itself tirelessly. As always, Sven took the best photos—I couldn’t help feeling a bit jealous, but his infectious joy made it impossible not to smile.

Initially, we passed by the Spitzkoppe, but eventually, I found two Herero Chats. A weight lifted off my shoulders, although the group had to struggle through the rocky terrain to reach them. At the Spitzkoppe, we enjoyed a short concert by a Damara singing group before successfully photographing Layard’s Warbler and a few species of canaries and buntings. Unfortunately, we only heard the Rockrunner, and no amount of patience could coax it out. The bird was understandably reluctant to show itself in such intense heat.

As we entered the Erongo, an impressive granite massif, I realized I was truly among passionate birders. No sooner had we spotted a few giraffes by the roadside than Sven immediately asked, “Are there any Oxpeckers on them?”

During the free hour at the lodge, many from the group wandered around and discovered the local Black Mongoose. Helge, always sharp-eyed, topped it off when he spotted a Hartlaub’s Francolin right next to the workers’ quarters. He managed to photograph it up close and then casually showed it off with a smile. You never know what surprises a day of birding will bring!

Dinner at Ai-Aiba Lodge was crowned with a Freckled Nightjar for “dessert,” though it was too dry for the usual owl visit. “Sorry, they’re not calling tonight,” I said, as I headed off to bed.

Since Helge had already seen a Hartlaub’s Francolin near the administration building the previous night, I allowed myself to hope we would find them again without much effort in the early morning. Unfortunately, we walked our legs off around the granite boulders. While we did spot some interesting birds, like Monteiro’s Hornbill, the francolins remained hidden and silent. Luckily, we were able to observe the Rockrunner relatively well, though it perched a bit too high for my liking.

After our pre-dawn trek, we certainly deserved a hearty breakfast of pancakes, omelets, and scrambled eggs. But immediately afterward, we set out once more in search of the elusive francolins, walking and calling out endlessly—again to no avail. It was just too dry and hot.

In the afternoon, the group, myself included, had a few hours of “free” time. That didn’t mean I didn’t notice familiar figures sneaking around the grounds with spotting scopes, cameras, and binoculars. Later, we drove to visit my friend Didi at Erongo Rocks Farmhouse. Didi had built a lovely little hide for birdwatching, complete with all the amenities, and he did it all by hand—an incredibly hardworking guy.

One particular observation that stood out was a White-browed Scrub-Robin. Though not a rare bird, this little beauty, with its pastel coloring and cheeky demeanor, brought genuine joy as it sang loudly through the dry bush, its upright tail wagging in rhythm.

Determined to find the elusive Hartlaub’s Francolin, I called Harald Rust at Omandumba Farm to ask if I could search for the bird on his western granite outcrop. As always, Harald was gracious and granted permission to bird along a well-marked hiking trail on his property. We arrived before sunrise and climbed the rocky summit just as the first light broke over the horizon. I played the call of the elusive francolin.

Lavinia pointed out that a francolin seemed to be responding from behind us. Before long, we spotted it—just like a hunter would—but instead, we shot with our cameras, accompanied by their territorial calls, or rather, squawks. The duet was finely coordinated, with the pair alternating calls to each other. This was one of the best observations of Hartlaub’s Francolin in my career, even though it was just this one pair.

Emberiza capensis

Yvonne also spotted a Cape Bunting, and after we enjoyed watching it, we returned to the lodge before heading north after breakfast. The drive to Etosha was smooth, with a stop at the sewage treatment works in Otjiwarongo, where we spotted Zitting Cisticola, Black-crowned Night-Heron, and Pygmy Goose. The day ended beautifully with coffee and cake in Outjo.

At the Etosha Safari Lodge, Yvonne joked in the reception area, “I fear there’s a view alarm here.” And indeed, she was right! We dined with a breathtaking view over the endless expanse of Mopane savannah stretching across central Etosha. The lodge’s early breakfast was especially convenient, allowing us to depart at sunrise. To avoid the morning traffic jam at the park entrance, I decided to search for the Bare-cheeked Babbler first. Fortunately, having already scouted the area the day before, the birds showed up promptly, calling loudly and posing for the group’s cameras. These semi-endemic birds are a special sight in Namibia.

Once we entered Etosha, we were immediately greeted by a Black Rhino. Alongside many birds, we also spotted zebras, giraffes, springboks, elephants, and even lions—quite a sight, though they lacked feathers! We took our lunch break at Halali, where we finally found the long-sought Damaraland Woodpecker. Bare-cheeked Babblers, a Golden-tailed Woodpecker, and numerous Cape Starlings were also spotted. It was a long, hot day, and just before exiting, we were surprised by a Bradfield’s Hornbill, far outside its usual range.

Mushara Bush Camp was well-received by the group, and we enjoyed lovingly prepared dinners on both evenings. The next morning, we set off early, heading straight north to Andoni. The highlight at Klein Okevi was a thrilling sighting of an African Wild Cat attempting to hunt Burchell’s Sandgrouse. The lark observations at Andoni were exceptional—Eastern Clapper Lark, Rufous-naped Lark, and Pink-billed Lark posed perfectly for photographs, ending the day on a high note.

Mirafra fasciolata

Unfortunately, I couldn’t fulfill Elke’s wish to see a Secretary Bird, despite driving several detours through the endless grasslands. Other local guides confirmed that the Secretary Bird hadn’t been sighted for weeks. At the artesian water north of Andoni, we made a little “northern German” stop—using the scope, we focused on the muddy shore of a lake and searched the area.

Although we had planned to return to our accommodation by noon, the group’s enthusiasm seemed insatiable. Wilhelm, despite not walking as well as before due to his recent surgery, impressed me with his knowledge, enthusiasm, and tireless exploration of the avian world. You truly learn a lot from your guests—often much more than they realize!

We returned just before sunset, breaking the long drive to northeastern Namibia, specifically the Caprivi Strip (now called the Zambezi region), with a stop in Grootfontein to replenish our water and supplies. By late afternoon, we reached Mahangu Lodge and concluded the day with a relaxing boat trip. Fantastic sightings of White-backed Night Heron, Collared Pratincole, and countless waterbirds and bee-eaters quickly made the long drive fade from memory. I gratefully enjoyed an ice-cold beer, brewed according to the Bavarian Purity Law, as is customary in Namibia.

During dinner, a Small-spotted Genet crept across the deck, appearing both tame and extremely photogenic. Later, we embarked on a night owl walk, and the sought-after African Wood Owl was clearly visible, calling beautifully. I also attempted to locate the African Scops Owl and Barred Owlet, which kept calling in the distance. We finally spotted the Scops Owlet the next evening at Xaro Lodge in Botswana, thanks to Lavinia’s sharp eyes, nestled in dense Garcinia livingstonei foliage.

Scotopelia peli

The next morning, Christof, a local Mbukushu guide, joined us for an early hike, where we discovered the very rare Little Bittern. We spent the rest of the morning in Mahango National Park, observing the newly identified Yellow-throated Bush Sparrow and an ostrich family with about two-month-old chicks. We also had particularly nice sightings of the Collared and Crested Barbet, Meyers Parrot, and smaller species like the Swamp Boubou and various Sunbirds. In the late afternoon, we crossed the border into Botswana, and thankfully, the border crossing went smoothly. We took a boat to Xaro Lodge, located on the Okavango Panhandle, not far from the actual delta.

The morning hike exceeded all expectations: African Green Pigeons, Southern Black Tits, and finally an incredibly close observation of the African Barred Owlet. The small owl posed openly for our cameras, and I wondered if Sven would manage to photograph this creature with his prime lens, given how close it was. The Pel’s Fishing Owl was a divine sight, perched high in an African Mangosteen, and we managed to photograph it masterfully through the foliage. As if that weren’t enough, we were surprised by a second Pel’s Fishing Owl that suddenly appeared in front of us and landed in full view. Seeing this majestic owl in the golden light was simply indescribably wonderful, and Helge agreed with my more vulgar comment about this being a “once-in-a-lifetime experience.” At first, I wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but he was referring to my usual saying that it was an “ornithological orgasm.” Well, indeed, us South Westerners can be a bit rough around the edges when it comes to careful language, and we still need to practice our sensitivity to gender. “Take it or leave it,” my father would say.

After a long, relaxed breakfast, it was time for the guests to unwind while I attended to a bit of “bush home office.” Elke praised the trip and asked appreciatively if I had designed the route myself—a nice affirmation of the effort I put in.

In the afternoon, after high tea—which is somewhat like coffee and cake, just in English and therefore with slightly weaker coffee—we took a boat down the Okavango. The colors of the sunset, new bird species like the Slaty Egret, numerous crocodiles, elephants, and even the calling Coppery-tailed Coucal and Great Reed Warblers kept us busy the whole time. We trudged through a floodplain, wrestling our way between wet mud clumps, cow dung, and elephant dung, finding only a Buffy Pipit instead of the hoped-for African Snipe. An Allen’s Gallinule was barely visible, slowly disappearing into the protective reeds, never to be photographed—oh man, what a pity!

Since Namibia is a vast country, long distances between various habitats are unavoidable. So today we had to cross the border from Botswana back into Namibia again. With brief stops at places where the Miombo forest had not yet been too heavily deforested, we drove past the ever-increasing local population and the resulting extreme deforestation until we reached Katima Mulilo. In Kongola, we observed the rare Racket-tailed Roller and a Kurrichane Thrush. In Katima Mulilo, we boarded the boat of Caprivi River Lodge, and the boatman skillfully took us to an African Finfoot. It was extremely tricky to photograph this magnificent bird as it constantly sought refuge in the reeds and under the overhanging roots along the shore. Occasionally, it would come out of the water, revealing its bright orange-red legs. After the boat trip, we continued our tour by car and drove to the shallow floodplains of the Zambezi, where we visited a massive colony of Carmine Bee-eaters. Thousands of birds repeatedly took to the skies, only to settle back down, presumably soon to begin digging their nests.

Chéni and Travis – two true angels!

Such selfless people still exist. Since the Lealoves, unfortunately renamed the “Pale-throated Greenbul,” have taken away my beautiful company name with their poetic synonym, and are now rarely spotted as they quietly and mysteriously retreated high up in the trees to nest, another “special” had to be found.

Pterocles gutturalis

The Yellow-throated Sandgrouse is so rare that I had never seen one myself. Travis led us to a remote waterhole in the dry Chobe at 6:00 AM. I should mention that my 7-minute delay was reported as a 10-minute one (it’s not my style to be late, but there was a good reason). Travis instructed me to move quickly to the water and wait there. However, a small misunderstanding occurred: there was already a sandgrouse at the water, and part of the group wanted to observe it in peace first—following the motto, “What you have, you have.” Despite my gestures to come closer, the spotters remained at a distance and had to watch in frustration as I unintentionally scared the sandgrouse away. It seemed I was only chasing after my own “lifer.” Later, this was thrown back at me, which puzzled me quite a bit. Admittedly, I had an easier time quickly getting out of the car and flexibly approaching the sightings, while the guests in the back often had to wait in frustration until everyone had exited.

We all settled on a small hill near the water and waited.

Soon, the melodic “crackle” filled the air, and they descended a bit off the water. Lifer! It was delightful, this sound—completely new to me. The Yellow-throated Sandgrouse, with its yellow throat, is truly a beautiful bird, and we managed to photograph it from the front, in flight, and even in groups, including striking males, females, and young birds.

Chéni and Travis from Caprivi River Lodge prepared us a wonderful bush breakfast, and feeling full and satisfied, we continued our drive over the Chobe Floodplains. Unfortunately, once again, a strong wind kicked up, and the dust became extremely frustrating—thick and everywhere. The car looked as if it had been dipped into a powder box—terrible! Along the banks of the Chobe, we observed numerous different shorebirds, but the sought-after species were unfortunately absent due to the weather. What a pity! You can’t have everything!

Peter from the Zovu Lodge had to wait for us for a while. Although I had informed him in time when I would cross the border, the drive to the small harbor, from where we would take the boat to the Zovu Lodge, took longer due to some interesting sightings. I managed to spot a group of Southern Ground Hornbills and a few Green-capped Eremomelas, and we stopped for a Kurrichane Thrush that posed like a true model on a red termite mound—a perfect photo opportunity.

When we finally docked at Zovu Lodge, we were greeted with singing and joy. The staff stood on the beautiful deck of the lodge, singing and clapping, warmly welcoming us.

The evening boat ride, set against a backdrop of a pink sunset and accompanied by numerous elephants and even a few lions, was yet another ornithological highlight. The water thick-knees at eye level were particularly impressive—an inside joke, as I had promised their sighting beforehand, and it was certainly not forgotten. The mood on board was lively and upbeat, especially when a Marsh Harrier made an appearance nearby—and that was just the beginning.

I couldn’t help but laugh when Peter expertly steered the boat directly toward a lion, lounging lazily and majestically on the shore. The lion regarded us with a wise gaze, completely unfazed by our approach. Helge, however, seemed barely aware of the scene. Instead, he sat at a perfect 90-degree angle, focusing all his attention on a Pied Wagtail perched on a bare branch—typical birder behavior, which I absolutely love!

Circus ranivorus

The next morning, we embarked on a short walk behind the lodge to spot some birds. However, trudging through the deep sand yielded little more than a glimpse of a Lesser Masked Weaver and a young Gabar Goshawk. My mood felt somewhat weary and rather gloomy. Hopefully, no one noticed… I thought.

At these lodges, a rather laissez-faire attitude toward tourists often prevails, catering to the so-called “gin-and-tonic tourists,” for whom the observation of mammals—especially those that are large, gray, and thick-skinned, or brown and furry—is entirely sufficient. For passionate birders like us, this often means that boat trips start too late. This led to a small discussion and some tension, but fortunately, it resulted in an earlier departure. Soon, we were able to spot the Pygmy Goose in the Kasai Channel, living up to its name, and, as if systematically sought after, the brilliantly colored yet elusive Half-Collared Kingfisher, sitting small and low along the banks of the Chobe.

A large group of Marabou Storks and some Hooded Vultures settled on a nearby island, and once again, the cameras clicked away, capturing the impressive scene.

By midday, it was windy and scorching hot, prompting everyone to take the opportunity to rest a little. In the afternoon, we returned to the wildlife-rich western bank of the Chobe. The group was content with the usual bird species of the region, and Peter offered a small photography lesson on how to capture elephants against a fiery red sunset. A giant hippo emerged directly in front of us, yawning wide as it submerged into the water. However, Elke wasn’t entirely satisfied, as the bull yawned in the “wrong” direction, spoiling what would have been the perfect photo opportunity.

The next morning, we enjoyed breakfast at seven, as we wanted to take a walk along the southern shore of the Chobe before continuing our journey to Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe. Sure enough, the White-Browed Robin-Chat and Schalow’s Turaco made a timely appearance, much to the delight of the tourists. I often glanced at Werner, who, as I always appreciated, would give me a thumbs-up with a wink!

At the Zimbabwe border, I had arranged for a “fixer,” who, for a small fee, eased the process of crossing. The group was grateful for this, especially given the sweltering heat and the long queues at immigration.

Ploceus ocularis

After checking in at Explorer Village, everyone enjoyed a cool Rock Shandy or Cappuccino while watching the lively bird feeding at the lodge. Here, we spotted the black-headed nigriceps variant of the Village Weaver. At the pond, two Fulvous Whistling Ducks, a few White-faced Whistling Ducks, and two female Mallards graced the shore.

An excursion to the wastewater facility, admittedly an experiment, turned out to be a disappointing experience—quite literally, a dirty failure. The landfill was located right next to the ponds. We then visited the traditional birdwatching site at the golf course, but even there, it was simply too hot, too far, and there was too little to see to truly enjoy it. Even Lavinia confessed to me that she had been thinking, ‘Please, just turn back!’

However, having surpassed the 350 bird sighting mark, and with the group feeling quite tired, we headed early to the beautifully situated Lookout Café, where we enjoyed a fantastic dinner. Lavinia delivered such a heartfelt farewell speech—one like I had rarely heard—and I must admit, I felt immense gratitude.

This birding trip presented challenges, as the country was relatively bird-poor due to the prolonged drought, and we had to work hard for every sighting. But it was worth it! I was especially pleased that the group appreciated the versatility of this journey—encompassing all its natural experiences, diverse animals and plants, and the ecological interconnections. Although we missed some ‘common’ species, everyone was able to delight in the ‘Namibian Specials’ and endemic species.

The next morning, we set off for Victoria Falls, where the Bearded Scrub-Robin appeared as if on cue. The Schalow’s Turacos once again showcased their vibrant red wings in flight, and at the roaring falls, I bid farewell with the words: ‘You must go home, and I must keep going,’ because in just a few days, the next group was already waiting for me.

As the Englishman would succinctly say: ‘Next time, bye!’

Albert