A holiday almost guaranteeing sunshine is good enough for most.
One in the birding haven of Majorca is altogether better for me, as I find basking in the sun tedious after a few hours.
The best time to go, I’m assured, is in the spring or late autumn, when all sorts of migrating birds use Majorca as a stop-off. I wasn’t complaining when my week in early July still yielded 60-plus species including several ‘firsts’ for my master list. It’s the second time I’ve been to Puerto Pollensa in the north-east corner of the island, where a pal of mine has an apartment.
If it’s rip-snorting nightlife you’re after, don’t come here, try Alcudia several miles south with its high-rise hotels and countless bars, discos and late-night shopping areas. Having said that Puerto Pollensa has its share of good restaurants (try to ignore the newly-installed Burger King!) and bars overlooking the attractive harbour, packed with the trappings of more affluent visitors.
The town is one of the closest resorts to the famous Formentor peninsula and the long spectacular ridge of the Tramuntana peaks which rise to a height of more than 4,700 feet. But it’s not allmountains and lofty crags: the variety of habitats includes the Albufera marsh – famed as one of the best wetland sites in Europe – its smaller cousin just south of Puerto Pollensa, S’Albufereta, plus wide expanses of farmland and dry scrub.
Most incongruous is the Albufera, which sits alongside the teeming mass of humanity that is Alcudia during the summer months. When I first visited Majorca more than 20 years ago, there were half a dozen hotels, space was not a problem, and the Albufera was a wild and open place. Now it is a well-run national park, with a dedicated group of wardens and support staff, which is a good job or the tens of thousands of people would overrun it –literally – on its doorstep. As it is, the authorities have got the balance about right, and the two extremes of nature can live side-by-side in relative harmony.
When on holiday, my wife and I have a routine – basically that means she doesn’t see me until between 10 and 11 each morning (though she probably doesn’t see very much of anything before then, anyway!) as I disappear off in my hire car with rucksack, binoculars, camera, bird guide, waterproof (usually unnecessary) and bottle of water (usually very necessary).
This year my Albufera visit was left until the last of my six full days, by which time I was mildly disappointed with less than 45 birds in the notebook, though I’d visited some (potentially) good birding sites including Cuber Reservoir, which yielded my first-ever Black Vulture plus Rock Thrush, Green Sandpiper, Crag Martin and a ‘rare’ group of Ravens, the Albufereta, where Night Heron, Purple Heron and Little Egret were common, and the Boquer Valley where, high above me, I saw my first Booted Eagle together with Cirl Bunting.
I also saw Eleanora’s Falcon both over the Albufereta and, more typically, quartering the crags of Formentor. But the Albufera was predictably the best location, effortlessly raising my end-of-holiday list above the 60 mark.
I was lucky not to get thrown out, though, when I arrived at 7.30 alongside the park workers and wardens. Graham Hearl’s otherwise excellent “Birdwatching Guide to Mallorca” had assured me that it was only cars they sought to keep out before the official 9am gates-open time, but an apparent ‘jobsworth’ named Dmitri, who had better English than my Spanish (mind you, who doesn’t!), told me I was breaking the rules and would have to come back later. I eventually convinced him my visit was important to me as I was going home the next day, and he softened his tone and advised me to report to the park manager at 8am, and ultimately they took pity on me – and Dmitri even became my personal guide to the first hide.
Even before I’d checked in, I’d seen a Purple Gallinule, which had been hunted off the island some years before but had been reintroduced in recent years and was now thriving. Cattle Egret and Cetti’s Warbler were quickly added to the list, followed by Moustached Warbler, Great Reed Warbler and, surprisingly, Glossy Ibis.
I doubted the evidence of my own eyes, as this dark curlew-like bird flew up and over a nearby pool, but I discovered from the park’s monthly list that, while not normally in situ, it had been a fairly regular recent sighting.
Another highlight was a Nightingale, interspersing a soft ‘seep’ with a harsh ‘churr’ that for a while convinced me I was listening to two separate birds. But no, the sounds followed the elusive bird around faithfully. Then I twice saw fairly clearly a bright yellow bird with a black head,
which I could only assume this to be a Black-headed Bunting, though if you believe the Collins field guide it should not have been in Majorca at that time of year (so if anyone can suggest what else it might have been, please let me know).
A wader I wasn’t sure of on the day – possibly a Marsh Sandpiper – should not remain a mystery for ever, as I got a photograph of it …… (pictured to the right). Can anyone give us a definite identification, please!
Among the most common birds seen were Spotted Flycatcher, Sardinian Warbler, Fan-tailed Warbler, Stonechat and Serin. It always seems a shame that such species that we’d be delighted to see in this country at any other time become so common you hardly bother to raise the binoculars.
Despite six mornings on the trot out and about with binoculars, I did do other things, usually involving food and drink, and there are plenty of interesting places to travel to and see.
There are many, many more pool sides and beaches where people can opt to top up their tans and sip ice-cold drinks. Whatever your preference, in July it gets very hot, so high-factor sun-block and plenty of (occasionally non-alcoholic) liquids are to be advised, even if you’re not sunbathing.
GARY ATKINS