A woman comes out on the fire escape to smoke a cigarette. Nearby there’s a Judas tree - it’s seen better days and bears little foliage now, only on the highest branches. The woman stands and talks on her mobile. She’s unaware that on the other side of the tree, there’s movement and two eyes appear at a hole.
Undeterred by the proximity of the office block, hoopoes (Upupa epops) have nested inside the tree. People are constantly walking to and fro, but it doesn’t bother them. Perhaps because these eye-catching birds have also perfected the art of melting into the background. In flight they’re a flurry of black and white, and uncertain zigzag direction. But on the ground they blend in with the dust of the paths or the dappled shadows under the trees.
The hollow tree is conveniently surrounded by excellent foraging ground, with scattered pines and sparse grass. I watched the parents walk about probing for bugs in the soft earth, unnoticed by busy passers-by. Whenever they returned to the nest, an item of food held fast at the tip of their long pincer-like bills, they were greeted by their hissing young.
Hoopoe nests are so renowned for their stink that it was disappointing to find no evil odour emanating from the hole. It was too high to look into or, for that matter, to receive a faceful of noxious nestling fluid, another defensive measure they employ.
A week later, the young hoopoes were no longer content to sit still in the protective darkness of their tree. Leaning out inquisitively, they would look in all directions – at the sky, neighbouring trees, at me. If I took a step too near, then the faces would disappear inside and remain hidden.
It was no surprise to find the nest deserted the following week. And no sign of the family. Despite its plentiful food supply, this small park has an important drawback for tender young hoopoes taking their first forays into the world: a colony of cats, who can be seen crouching, hypnotised by the busy tree creepers.
Nearly a month later, when the parents were busy with a second clutch, I found a young hoopoe dozing on a branch. It was in another park, but very near, so there’s a chance it was one of the brood, now fending for itself. It looked rather vulnerable, with soft downy breast feathers. Luckily, it had found a place where cats are actively discouraged.
The next day the fledgling was still there, but this time bright-eyed and awake. It studied me, and decided I wasn’t a danger, allowing me to observe a curious episode. In the full noonday sun, it snuggled into the loose sand of the path, burrowing down till its tail was grey with dust. Sitting there like a brooding hen, it occasionally shuffled itself further into the hollow. There was none of the vigorous dust-flinging that goes on when a sparrow takes a dust bath, nor any attempt to preen. It merely stretched its neck, with a tentatively flickering crest, and its bill began to gape.
Sufficiently baked, the hoopoe finally moved into the shade, where conveniently an irrigation sprinkler had just been turned off. After drinking from the rivulet of fresh water, the young bird flew a short distance for some vigorous foraging among tree roots. That’s when it gave me a clue to its activity. Without warning, its crest stood on end, and tail and wing feathers were splayed out. It seemed to have received an electric shock. Or been stung by an insect.
Then I remembered the “anting” activity that some birds perform - active anting, which involves capturing ants and placing them inside the plumage, or passive anting, which hoopoes are known to do. They can adopt quite dramatic postures spreadeagled on the ground, making it easy for the insects to hop on board. Anting is not fully understood: the formic acid secreted in ant bites might help control parasites. Or maybe the sensation of ants among feathers is soothing, especially during a moult. Regardless, anting and related activities like dusting and sunbathing, give birds great pleasure. A new urban activity can be added to the list: massage by air-conditioning.
The young hoopoe continued foraging, its crest still restless. Finally, it flew up to a branch, and settled down for a siesta.
Barcelona, Birds | Tags: anting, Barcelona birding, barcelona birdwatching, Barcelona parks, hoopoe, hoopoe nest in Barcelona, hoopoe nest in tree, hoopoes in Barcelona, hoopoes in spain, mediterranean fauna, upupa epops, urban wildlife, young hoopoe practising anting|
Packed tight between the mountains and the sea, Barcelona is a noisy, densely populated city. Any visitor who climbs Montjuic or Tibidabo for an overall view will immediately be struck by the absence of green space. The nearest most people have to a garden is a few plant pots on a balcony. Yet in the heart of this intensely urban environment, there is a spectacular birding experience to be had.
I stood watching as the man swung his bucket, scattering silvery fish through the air and an extraordinary balletic display commenced. Tall gangling birds pranced across the grass, jostling in competition. Crests were cocked in excitement. Raucous cries rang out. Vast wings were spread like grey capes, as strong orange beaks grasped their catch. Long, sinuous necks bulged as it was swallowed.
The scene was Barcelona zoo, and the birds putting on the show were Grey herons (Ardea cinerea). Common enough species but rarely seen in such quantities and proximity. The zoo has over 200 of them, nesting high in the tree tops: the largest urban heronry in Europe.
The herons are sometimes mistaken by visitors as another exhibit, a decorative extra thrown in for the price of the ticket, like the peacocks who have the run of the place. But they are wild birds who have chosen to live in close proximity to man. When hunting for food outside the zoo grounds, they revert to extreme wariness, fleeing at the slightest human intrusion. Inside, other rules apply, providing a tremendous opportunity to observe them close up.
Walking through the zoo on a mild April morning, I spotted a heron in a palm tree snaking its neck to pluck some likely nesting material. Another had alighted in a plane tree to present a long twig to its mate. The pair raised their crests in greeting and exchanged raucous ruarks. Over by the penguin pool, herons kept guard, glassy eyes giving nothing away as they waited for feeding time.
Like Barcelona itself, the zoo can be noisy and crowded. A pretend train laden with visitors was winding along the paths, its bell ringing incessantly. The Cuban flamingos were in display mode, trumpeting in formation. Peacocks were screaming. Children on a school trip were shouting “Baloo! Baloo!” at a pair of slumbering Spanish brown bears. Adding to the congestion were lines of wide-eyed tiny-tots hanging onto long ropes. Dodging all these obstacles were the zoo staff, mounted on bikes.
The heronry adds a few more decibels to the general cacophony. As I approached the pelican and gorilla enclosures, a sign instructed me to look up. Overhead, in the towering plane trees, was the hub of the colony, where the large nests are packed close together and the whiff of a barnyard hangs in the air. Also emanating from above was a peculiar racket.
Scanning the boughs to find its source, I saw that several nests were already occupied by goggle-eyed spiky heads. The relentless nattering was the sound of ravenous heron chicks, leaning out precariously, wobbling their throats and demanding food.
Although still weeks away from acquiring the sleek elegance of their parents, some of the chicks were already quite grown, a sign of the colony’s success. Mild Barcelona weather and an ample food supply encourage early breeding. A record was set in 2007, after a particularly balmy winter, when the first chick hatched on January 8th. With such favourable conditions, some herons undertake two broods a year.
For more information I consulted Josep Garcia, an ornithologist who has studied Barcelona’s herons for more than 20 years. Spring is his busiest time as he monitors the entire heron population of Catalonia, wading unsteadily through lagoons, and climbing shaky ladders to peer at nests and ring chicks. In the zoo he has the amenities of a city at hand, and glides smoothly upwards in a tree pruner’s lift.
“You’ve visited the oldest Catalan heronry,” he explained, giving me a quick history lesson. “It was founded over thirty years ago in 1974 by captive birds with clipped wings. Two of their offspring were given their freedom, surprising everyone by returning to the zoo to breed.” Other herons passing on migration were attracted by the nests they spotted below.
“This year we might get as many as 130 nests,” says García, astounded by the prospect himself “Which is probably saturation point. The Barcelona heronry will be playing an important role in reinforcing or establishing new colonies as herons disperse. In the next few years, the Catalan colonies will acquire a great strategic importance as a nexus between heronries of southern France and the Mediterranean basin.” This has always been the role of Catalonia, to act as a bridge between Europe and Spain.
A benign climate is not the only advantage for Barcelona’s herons. In the centre of the city they have few predators to worry about. The principle danger for the chicks is falling from the nest or being pushed by a rival sibling. Conditions are much harsher in the Llobregat Delta by Barcelona airport, where herons nest among reeds. García explains that these “suffer intense predatory pressure from the introduced American mink and disturbance from boars [whose population has exploded in Catalonia in recent years]. Besides having to contend with the more “normal” predators such as the Marsh harrier and other raptors like the Bonelli’s eagle.”
Just as my neck was staring to ache from so much tree-top gazing, a keeper approached the pelican enclosure and the herons began parachuting down. I felt the turbulence generated by a 1.75 metre wingspan as one settled by my elbow. Ignoring me, it only had eyes for the bloke with the bucket.
The heron is an adaptable bird and some have learnt to take advantage of the zoo’s resources. As feeding time is short and competition fierce, their typical hunting techniques, based on patience and stealth, are of little use. Smaller and more nimble rivals, such as Yellow-legged gulls and Little egrets, send tension levels even higher.
A stressed heron is an electrical sight, as its most decorative feathers rise to the occasion. As they gathered nervously in the pelicans’ moat, long black head plumes were springing up like antennae and white neck fringes spiking out. When fish were flung their way, tugs of war erupted. One intrepid individual managed to poach an entire trout, which it slowly engulfed, like a python. The long neck, so useful for harpooning fish in shallow water, also came in handy when accepting an offering directly from the keeper’s hand, keeping him safely “at neck’s length”.
When nerves and feathers had subsided, the herons reverted to more archetypal behaviour, stalking the area with measured calm in search of forgotten morsels. Soon the grassy arena of earlier feeding battles was taken over by picnicking families.
I reflected on how much the flamboyant herons have transformed the zoo, by providing a counterbalance to the captive animals. They are now part of an increasingly valued biodiversity within its grounds. A wintering kingfisher has been known to slip into the aquarium through an open window. Unique in the city, a population of hedgehogs has been discovered, survivors of a pre-urban era. Six species of butterfly have been identified and three amphibians: the Iberian Water Frog, Midwife toad and Stripeless Treefrog. Adjacent to the Parc de la Ciutadella, (Citadel Park ) the zoo has an impressive collection of 96 species of trees. While it is acknowledged that modern zoos work hard at conservation on a global scale, linking up to form a worldwide network, they have another role to play: providing an oasis for local wildlife and encouraging visitors to appreciate it.
Later that week, when walking down Barcelona ‘s expensive central shopping boulevard, Passeig de Gracia, at twilight, I was thrilled to see the instantly recognisable silhouettes of two herons. Curved necks tucked in, broad wings steadily beating, they were heading home.
Facts:
- The zoo heronry was founded in 1974.
- Until 1992 it was the only stable heron breeding colony in Catalonia.
- In 1997 the herons were joined by two other members of the ardeidae family: the Cattle egret and Little egret.
- Landmark years in the colony’s growth were 1997, when 21 new pairs swelled the number of nests to 62, and 2003, when they reached 106.
- The breeding period in the zoo can begin from the end of December until the end of July or beginning of August. This year the first egg hatched on February 14th. In 2007 it was as early as January 8th.
- On average 4 eggs are laid per nest, and only 1 or 2 chicks survive.
- Between 20 and 30% of the colony is resident. The others begin leaving in August, and return in February
Barcelona, Birds | Tags: Ardea cinerea, Barcelona zoo, best thing about Barcelona zoo, biggest urban heron colony, biggest urban heronry, Birding in Barcelona, grey herons in Barcelona, heron colony, heron nests, herons of barcelona zoo, urban herons, urban wildlife, wildlife spectacle in Barcelona|
