Shoebill is a bird that is on most world-birders’ lists of most desirable species. It’s rare, monotypic, huge and prehistoric looking and even appeals in a “WTF!” kind of way to non-birders. It was not really on my radar as a specific high-priority target until relatively recently, when cancellation of multiple overseas birding trips got me reflecting on birding and wildlife for the rest of my life (eek!). I came to a realisation that I will probably never be able to do lots of trips per annum, nor ever get to seven or eight thousand species for the world; at my current rate maybe I have at most another 10-15 trips left. The alternative to increasing the rate a lot (work, family and cold hard cash are all barriers to this) has to be to prioritise quality over quantity, and to plan around a bucket-list of places, species and experiences.
Keen to get cracking on this post-covid regime, I drew up a list of short, potent trips that would strike this new balance of quality experience in a relatively short space of time, including at least one or two bucket-list birds. Some destinations on this list I had to eliminate because of unfavourable timing (I wanted a trip in the first half of the year when I would be on sabbatical and therefore much more flexible than usual), and others because of problematic covid restrictions. I also needed to be prepared to go alone, because usual birding buddy Steve, was already committed to a long family holiday in South Africa.
As should be obvious from the title of this post, the timing, cost other factors fell into place for a short but potent trip to Uganda. It would be my first trip as a birder to sub-saharan Africa. Many years ago, before I was a birder, I travelled to Zimbabwe and Botswana and met up with college mate Ron Ritter who was doing zoological research in Nxai Pan National Park in Botswana. We pottered around in his ex-SADF landrover that we christened “The Antichrist” (after a similar vehicle in “The Gods Must be Crazy”) because it was uncomfortable, it broke down regularly, was basically a pile of shite, and even got us arrested in Gabarone (that’s another story entirely). I saw a Secretarybird, but that was just about my only avian memory. This time around I would be going to a place where almost every bird would be a lifer!
I picked Uganda from other possible destinations in Africa not only for Shoebill, but for the other amazing wildlife experiences that could be crammed into just over a week, not least the chance to see Mountain Gorillas and Chimpanzees, bucket-list mammals that I have wanted to see ever since amazing encounters with Orangutan in Borneo in 2014 and 2019. I decided my first trip to Africa could not be independent, and was attracted to the minimalist itinerary of Gunnar Engblom’s new venture “7 Wonders“. I was excited and delighted when Jon Porter (with whom I had birded in West Papua) decided to sign up too. A further message to birding mates in both Adelaide and Oxford yielded additional trip participant (and old friend) Tom Bedford and another Oxonbirder, Dave Lowe. Dave’s arrival in Oxford pretty-much coincided with my departure in 2012, so we had met only once, very briefly, at a twitch with Tom at Hinksey Heights golf course in 2018 (we all saw what we thought was an Iberian Chiffchaff, but sadly this turned out to be an aberrant Chiffchaff ; see Ewan Urquart’s blog here). Back to the present, and unexpectedly but fabulously, my Uganda trip would be with a core team of friends.
Because we were all similarly motivated birders, and the only participants, we negotiated with Gunnar to add some extra birding days so we could maximise our chances for the Albertine Rift endemics and one or two other avian specialties. Even so, we would have to miss places like Murchison Falls and Queen Elizabeth National Park (famous for its tree-climbing Lions) to keep the time and price down. The trip worked out a fair bit cheaper than an equivalent with more established outfit, but if I were doing it again there are aspects of the planning and itinerary that I would tweak, because we missed what should have been some gettable targets by not being in the right place. Not that I could have, but I regret not taking firmer control of the itinerary long before we set foot in Uganda.
The start of the trip, and even before the trip began, was not without incident. Most notably and regrettably/appallingly, Tom had a serious bike accident a few days after I arrived in England in late June. He was out on a long ride when he came off on a downhill and sustained major injuries that hospitalised him for a week, and required multiple operations to clean and patch up. At least he was alive, which might not have been the case with a slightly different impact, but he was now ruled out of the trip at the last minute. Disappointing for myself and Dave who had been really looking forward to some superb birding with him, and totally gutting for Tom himself.
Come the day of departure, 20th July, I met with Dave and Jon in Oxford and we travelled to Heathrow together; me re-acquainting with Jon after 4 years, and further ice-breaking with Dave, whom I met properly for the first time only a few days ago, over beers in the Royal Oak. LHR was a complete nightmare as far as check-in and security was concerned, so we were glad we had allowed 3 hours pre-flight. We were all booked on the same (and only) Emirates flight from Dubai to Entebbe, but Jon’s travel-agent had booked him on a flight from LHR-Dubai departing two hours later than the one Dave and I were on, giving him a very tight transfer time in Dubai of just over an hour. When our own flight was delayed by air traffic congestion over Germany and we sat on the tarmac for 90 minutes, Dave and I fretted and sweated during our 7-hour overnight flight on the notion that if Jon’s flight was similarly delayed, he would miss the connection, and therefore miss the whole of the first day. It was a huge relief early next morning to see his beaming face and large frame sat in the departure lounge at Dubai — although we’d been delayed, his later flight had left on time and arrived into Dubai minutes after our own!
The final pre-trip stress happened as we arrived at our pleasant night one accommodation, Precious Guest House right next to the Entebbe Botanical Gardens. Eager to get birding, we grabbed our bags from the minivan and dumped them in the suite we had been allocated to share. Or at least, Jon and I grabbed our bags. Where the Dickens was Dave’s silver hard-shell suitcase? Faaark! We replayed to ourselves leaving the terminal — we had collected bags from baggage claim, scanned them (as seems to be de-rigeur in most third world airports), then paused to withdraw shillings for beer money from the ATM. Entering the open air Dave and Jon were already on the case with new birds — Little Swifts wheeled overhead, Red-eyed Doves flew between palms and an unidentified sunbird buzzed around — and we added 4-5 species just walking with our host to the van. However in the process of birding and taking gratuitous selfies, we’d all been distracted and not realised/remembered that Dave’s case was the one item of luggage not on the trolley. It had been left unattended somewhere between the terminal and the minivan. This could ruin the trip before it had even started. Jon and I waited at the guesthouse while Dave returned with the driver, fingers, toes and other crossable appendage crossed, hoping it would still be there, though imagining it would probably be gone, stolen or maybe even blown up by airport security. After what seemed like an age, but in reality was probably not a lot longer than the 15min drive back to the airport, a WhatsApp message came through from Dave: “Got it!”. “Phucking Phew” I replied, and we collectively breathed a sigh of relief.
Just 100m from Precious Guesthouse are the Entebbe Botanical Gardens where Gunnar (who’d flown in earlier in the day) had arranged for us to be met at the gate by a local bird guide, Bright. The weather was amazingly pleasant, around 25 degrees — considerably cooler than England! — with few clouds and just a light breeze, and we used the remaining 2-3 hours of light wandering around the gardens as Bright helped identify and demystify our first birds and birding in Uganda. For Dave and Jon, both of whom already had a bit of African birding experience, it was a chance to re-hone their skills. For me it was all new, and though that is a potential excuse, in truth I was rather under-prepared and almost totally reliant on their collective expertise.
Immediately Bright, Dave and Jon were on the case. Our first bird was a smart Double-toothed Barbet, appropriate that we should see the bird that adorns the cover of the field guide so early on. We also noted Red-billed Firefinch, and Bright pointed out a pair of attractive Woodland Kingfisher. Soon after a tiny African Pygmy Kingfisher showed itself briefly; I initially missed it but we were able to track it down to a semi-hidden perch in the middle of a bush before it zipped off again. Levaillant’s Cuckoo was seen early on also; I noted the partially hidden bird and took others’ word for it. This would be the only one of the trip, so I now regret that I was somewhat overwhelmed by the “newness” of it all and therefore not paying full attention.
We walked slowly down the hill towards the shores of Lake Victoria, picking up a decent array of generally common, but quality birds, and a few primates to boot, notably Black-and-white Colobus. I was especially keen to connect with one of the stars of the gardens, and indeed one of Africa’s best and most iconic birds, Great Blue Turaco. We found several, though they were wary and distant, running with surprising agility along tree boughs into cover each time we happened to see one on a more exposed perch. Already a contender for a top-10 trip bird, but I craved better views over the next week.
We also managed to get UTB (under the belt) several other iconic species — in several cases new families for me — in this first, gentle foray: Black-and-white-casqued Hornbill were massive and conspicuous, betraying their presence with a huge whoosh of their wings; we also found both Crowned and African Pied Hornbills; a fabulously weird Hamerkop flew over (Shoebill’s closest relative). Bright heard and then found for us an African Grey Parrot, such an iconic and familiar species, though it stayed in the high tree tops, so our views were distant and I didn’t even bother with photography. Conspicuous and common were Eastern Plaintain Eaters (turaco close relatives), and Speckled Mousebirds, from a generally a nice and easy, but endemic African family. As the afternoon dragged on and the sun got lower Broad-billed Rollers filled the sky coming in to roost in the gardens, many doing the rolling display flight that gives the family its name. We also noted a couple of African Hobby; Dave and Jon were gratified by the find, having picked it out as a gap in their existing African lists; a pair gave excellent flight views in the evening light after an earlier silhouetted suspect looked good on jizz, but had been impossible to pin down unequivocally. Although Sunbirds were not a new family for me, Africa is their stronghold and it was good to see Red-chested and Variable Sunbirds.
As we descended towards the lake, suddenly Gunnar realised he’d lost his laser pointer. A big hole in his jacket pocket was the culprit; it had evidently dropped out somewhere. While Gunnar went off in an ultimately vain search of it (and we hoped there would be no subsequent impact for finding forest birds over the next week) the three of us and Bright carried on down to the shore. Where the waters of the impressive Lake Victoria lapped at the edge of the gardens, we scanned the lake, the shore in either direction and the vegetation that overhangs the water. Distantly we picked out a Palm-nut Vulture and Pink-backed Pelican, while closer we noted Maribou Stork, Black-necked Heron and African Openbill. A couple of small, sparse bushes rising out of the lake itself were dripping with Pied Kingfishers, Long-tailed Cormorants and various versions of Weaver, including their famous, pendulous weaved nests (here we had Slender-billed, Black-necked and Village).
One of the “joys” of African birding is needing to distinguish between several, even dozens, of similar species in families such as Weavers, Sunbirds and Honeyguides. I discovered in this first birding experience with Dave that he was not only a very sharp and knowledgeable birder, he was particularly diligent in trying to nail down an ID while still in the field using careful cross-referencing of mental field-notes and the field guide, which he carried around in a large pouch. I could only admire and envy (or just occasionally mock ;-)) his dedication to the craft which was ultimately to all of our benefit, nailing down several tricky species that would have gone in my personal too-hard basket. As well as his dedication to unequivocal ID, Dave also took on the mantle of official ebird list-maker and keeper, compiling an ebird list at each site. Over the coming week this superbly organised and useful practice would yield a valuable real-time record of the trip that we (and others) can refer to online.
Earlier, Bright had promised us a “guaranteed” African Wood Owl at a known roost, yet for some reason we had not gone directly to the roost. Down by the shore he alerted us that his friend had called to say it was showing, and that we needed to get up there before it left the roost in the fading light. Always eager to see night-birds, suspicious of any “guarantees” of easy birds, and even a little perplexed that we had not made this the top priority, I got cracking back up the hill. I’d covered 50m or so before realising that I really had no idea where we were going (other than back up the hill) and also that the others were still poring over the field guide and in a detailed discussion about the finer points of distinguishing Slender-billed from Village Weavers. Eventually I was able to cajole them away from their hugely important debate (or perhaps they just worked out the ID) and we followed Bright to a garden gate in the western boundary wall. Bright’s friend let us in and straight away pointed out a superb African Wood Owl, quietly roosting in deep shadow under large palm fronds. The light was terrible for photography but I did my best with high ISO and some fairly aggressive noise reduction and contrast enhancement in post-processing.
Once installed at the bar back at Precious Guest House we ordered beers all round. The local brew, Nile Special, proved particularly tasty, though at 5.6% on the strong side for a crew that needed/wanted to stay alert and avoid hangovers. I have been burned by imbibing too much on Day 1 of a trip in the past (see my trip to Sichuan, for instance), so limited my consumption to 2 bottles. It went well with the very tasty tilapia curry I ordered for dinner. Partway through dinner a young, smiling chap sidled over and introduced himself as Herman, our guide for the next week. Young, sharp, knowledgeable and enthusiastic, and seemingly immune to tiredness on long drives, Herman was both guide and driver, and an invaluable asset on the trip.
Our first birding had been a fairly gentle, almost perfect introduction to Ugandan birds and birding — just what was needed to put the stresses of travel and luggage behind us, and get into a solid groove for the week to come. Dave’s welcome practice of a real-time ebird list rendered the evening bird-call somewhat superfluous, and tonight we could fully concentrate on the beer and the craic. Here is the list for that first birding:
22 July
Our first morning was set to be one of the most important of the trip. The drive from Entebbe to Mabamba Swamp — an extensive and minimally disturbed wetland of mixed papyrus and reedbeds on the edge of Lake Victoria — took about an hour, much of which was on mediocre unsealed roads. Our aim was to arrive at 7am, the earliest it would be possible to get a boat out into the swamp. Arriving bang on time we soon boarded a dugout canoe with a local guide, Innocent, stood on the bows like a figurehead so he could survey the area looking for our quarry. A stunning Malachite Kingfisher had chosen the next-door canoe as its roost, and a Northern Brown-throated Weaver also posed nicely for my lens. We chuntered out through head-high papyrus, cruising past many more gorgeous Malachite Kingfishers, before the tall papyrus gave way to lower reeds and mixed vegetation, every available perch seemingly occupied by multiple smart Pied Kingfishers. On grassy banks we noted dozens of African Jacanas and Long-toed Lapwings, and as we pushed through some of the narrower backwaters we even flushed a few Black Crakes.
Inevitably when birding for a specific target, the cost and time invested ratchet up the tension, especially as time passes without finding the bird. But this morning the birding gods smiled on us and barely 20 minutes into the trip, much sooner than expected, Innocent shouted “Shoebill“. The pilot cut the motor and we all turned to see the unmistakable profile of the monster. A bush had momentarily inserted itself directly between Dave and the bird and I could sense the tension and panic in his voice as he begged for directions, but this lasted for mere seconds as we drifted slightly further to the right and it came out in full view for all of us. It was some way off but fairly settled and we were able to manoeuvre the boat for great viewing. It really is a unique, prehistoric looking monster with that ridiculous slab for a bill that gives rise to its name. Side-on the shape of the bill gives the bird a smug smile — “I’m the king of the swamp!” — but when it turns to look directly at you the piercing pale eyes either side of the massive clog give it an appearance that bizarrely seems to alternate between menacing-and-sinister, and cartoon-like comical. Our bird was presumably aware of our presence and after a couple of minutes it took to the air, initially flying almost directly towards us but then diverting to land in an inaccessible channel and largely disappearing behind tall papyrus. Now we could understand how on occasions they can be tricky to find, but super-relieved and excited to have the number one avian target nailed already!
We had a further couple of hours on the boat to explore, and we carried on deeper into the swamp on a more open stretch of water, where we noted a flyover Palm-nut Vulture, African Palm-swifts, a small flock of Spur-winged Geese, White-faced Whistling-duck, Yellow-billed Ducks and Purple Herons. Our hosts planned to take us to where a (rarely seen) nesting Shoebill had been discovered in the last two weeks, so we left the open water heading up a narrowing channel. Reaching a point where the channel was clogged with vegetation and wrapping around the prop, the driver had to cut the engine and start to punt us along. Soon even this was ineffective, at which point Innocent and the driver disembarked to punt, push, pull and generally cajole our boat through the clogged up, shallow channel for a further 300-400m.
After 20 minutes of this very slow progress we arrived at a spot where the channel ran out. It seemed we could go no further. Even so I was completely unprepared for the sight that appeared after one more push, as we slid past a tall stand of papyrus. Standing barely 8m away, we had come almost face to face with an adult Shoebill, apparently unconcerned by the arrival of uninvited guests. Innocent pointed to the left of it — hidden lower down in a rough nest, but exposed regularly as the wind blew the reeds, was a pale, downy, “tiny” Shoebill chick. “Tiny”, in quotes, because it was already the size of a smallish raptor, just small in comparison to the adult which stands nearly a metre-and-a-half tall. At this range we were eye-ball to eye-ball with the adult, and through bins and the camera’s long lens I could make out the intricate pink patterning on that amazing bill and stare deep into the bird’s soul.
As we departed (once again being pushed and pulled and slid along the too-narrow, too-shallow channel), another canoe was arriving and we observed more boat-loads heading in that direction once we hit more open water. We were grateful that our early start had got us to this point first, and avoided the “traffic jam” that was about to ensue in the narrow approach.
In a different part of the swamp we went in search of another elusive inhabitant, Lesser Jacana. The field guide describes it as “widespread but generally scarce and local”, and Jon was especially keen to see one, having dipped previously on a few occasions in his other African birding sojourns. We also discovered that unlike its larger cousins which are often conspicuous, Lesser seems to be pretty wary. We had a couple of false alarms (including some stringing of juvenile African) before all getting at least tickable, if not brilliant, views of the petite grey-brown Lesser Jacana, scuttling away into the reeds, behaving more like a rail than a jacana.
It was now time to head back to base, though I insisted on a quick pitstop, not confident my straining, and at times almost painful bladder, would last the final 20 min or so. Everyone was good enough to look away as I clambered to the stern, found a couple of firm footholds with my back to the strong breeze and leaned out over the edge for some welcome relief. I just about managed not to fall in or catch anyone with the spray.
Back on dry land we birded for a few minutes, finding Red-chested Sunbird, Speckled Mousebirds, Ruppell’s Starling, and Eastern Plaintain Eaters. A week or two back Weyn’s Weaver had been present but we were told the flock had moved on and would be almost impossible to locate. Now we loaded up into the van once more in preparation for a long drive, though we left slowly, stopping a few times along the road, no longer under any time pressure and with the light now good for birding. We added a few nice species including White-throated Bee-eater and Viellot’s Black Weaver, though I dipped on a Brown-throated Wattle-eye and would have to claw this back on the final day.
[Mabamba ebird list] [Roadside ebird list]
The drive along the main highway that leads to the south-west was uneventful for a couple of hours. We had occasional stops if someone spotted anything interesting, and also at one or two of Herman’s spots for local specialties (eg Rufous Heron, but no joy). We noted Lizard Buzzard, but not much else until we reached Kayabwe for a lunch stop. I had no idea of the significance of this tiny town until I noticed a gaggle of tourists on the roadside and realised they were taking photos at the Equator. This was the first time I have ever crossed the Equator on land, so during lunch I popped out and took an obligatory selfie, one foot and one bollock in either hemisphere. I returned to find the crew birding again as we waited for our food orders to arrive. This lunch-stop yielded our only Green Woodhoopoe of the trip: long-tailed, gaudy birds with a long down-curved red bill — another new African family for me!
Another hour south-west and at Masaka, the largest town we’d encountered since Entebbe/Kampala, we turned more westerly, away from Lake Victoria. Twenty km west of Masaka, Herman pulled up again at a roadside papyrus stand. Though it was still a bit windy, he played a few calls. I was not hopeful of any change in fortune for our roadside birding when suddenly Herman got super excited. He’d heard a Papyrus Gonolek call back. And then the excitement ratcheted up even further because the skulker decided to show itself: rich orange-red underneath, mainly black on top with a bright yellow-orange cap, this was a very dashing specimen. Herman was delighted and told us this was the showyiest he’d ever seen. Also here we noted a Slender-billed Weaver.
As we tracked further west the countryside became less green, with reedbeds and gardens giving way to drier savannah. Approaching Lake Mburo we realised that some of the animals we were seeing were not livestock, but wild Zebra! Now looking with more intent into the bush we also observed Impala bouncing through the undergrowth. Late afternoon, Herman pulled the van onto a dirt track south of the highway. Up to this point our transport had been a bit of a disappointment, not one of the better birding vehicles I’ve travelled in. It was tricky to get in and out of, heavily tinted windows made viewing outside difficult, and only the two foremost of the rear seats had opening windows. Blocking the view to the front was a large completely superfluous TV screen. However now one aspect of the design came into its own — the roof was a pop-top and we were able to raise it so we could stand and scan as Herman drove on slowly the 10km to our overnight lodging. Now at least we could actually see what was coming from in front, and view unobstructed 360.
A dam near the turnoff gave a load of waterbirds including a couple of new ones, Wattled Lapwing and Sacred Ibis. When I started birding this latter species shared a name with a common bird in Australia, which has since changed its name to Australian White Ibis (or as we know them locally, the noble “Bin Chicken”). There were also a few Hadada Ibis (or, as Jon liked to call, them, “Ha-dee-dah”!). A Grey Kestrel cruised through. The new habitat yielded a number of new birds quite quickly, with the dry savannah grasses and low bushes home to species such as Red-billed Quelea, Yellow-fronted Canary, Golden-breasted Bunting, African Pipit, Familiar Chat and a stonking Green-winged Pytilia. Inevitably a number of Grey-backed Fiscal were among the most conspicuous, perching atop bushes. Chinspot Batis was the first member of this family for my life list, a neat, mainly black-and-white bird that seemed somewhat intermediate between a tit and a chat. Over the week we saw a few members of the family, but Chinspot was the commonest for us with observations at several (lower altitude) sites. Likewise, we ended up seeing Northern Puffback (a relative of the fiscals and shrikes) at several sites, but here was our first. A Black-headed Gonolek, all black above and rich crimson underneath had some star quality and nicely complemented our earlier sighting of Papyrus Gonolek.
We were sharing the road with a herd of Ankole Long-horned Cattle, aptly-named beasts with ridiculously impressive horns. They were being herded along the track in more or less the same direction as we were travelling and once or twice we needed to move on to avoid getting caught up in the herd. More Zebra, Impala and a Waterbuck reminded us we were moving from cultivated land toward a wilder part of the country, though we would not actually enter Lake Mburo National Park.
Other new birds noted included Blue-naped Mousebird, Little Bee-eater, Spot-flanked Barbet, Croaking Cisticola, White-browed Coucal and Northern Black-flycatcher. Several swallows swooping over the more open areas had the look-and-feel of large red-rumped types and decent views proved them to be Mosque Swallow.
A few francolins dashed across the track ahead of us and we were able to get views of these as they slunk away into the bush and confirm them as Red-necked Francolin. A little further on we saw movement on the deck and found some Crested Francolin. Closer to the lodge a small group of Helmeted Guineafowl flushed into the bush as we drove past. These were one of the few non-lifers for me, as one of the few birds I actually remembered from that fateful trip to Botswana.
A particular highlight came when I saw a small dumpy shape on a low perch 15m or so from the car. I called for Herman to stop the van and was excited to land my bins on a Pearl Spotted Owlet and we observed it being mobbed by a collection of small birds including several Red-cheeked Cordonbleu. We were looking almost directly into the setting sun, but after a burst of playback it flew to a much better lit photogenic perch on a euphorbia (candelabra).
As sun tracked to the horizon we could still not see any obvious lodge, but but Herman drove on just another couple of km up an incline to a granite topped hill. We unloaded from the van and walked through some bush and huts to emerge onto the granite at a stunning safari lodge, views sweeping forever across the savannah. This was my first experience of any such African lodge and I felt like Simba surveying my kingdom as I stood and watched the light fade over the plains.
A large family of baboons was hanging around on the rock below the restaurant (we were warned not to leave anything edible or interesting lying around or risk having it pinched by the baboons). During an excellent dinner and of course a couple of beers we remarked that the rock surface looked like perfect night-time nightjar habitat, so after dark, Gunnar, Dave and I spent some time checking it out with torches and a bit of playback. We neither saw nor heard anything, but this did not put a damper on what had been an incredible first full day that had delivered our #1 target, a fantastic supporting cast and some quintessential views of Africa.
End of Part 1. To be continued…
