After my stay on the Hornstrandir peninsula in the company of photographers it is time for a family holiday to discover the rest of the country. We have 3 weeks for our round trip around Iceland, following the ring road starting in the South-East. A wonderful opportunity to hopefully meet lots of new species of birds!
Passerine birds
Meadow Pipit (Anthus pratensis)
The cousin of the tree pipit that I occasionally see in Creuse is a very common bird in Iceland and not especially shy. I particularly appreciated its good taste regarding the choice of perches: on top of the wild angelica that seems to thrive in the Hornstrandir bogs.
Northern Wheatear (Oenanthe oenanthe)
The Northern wheatear is another common and very pretty passerine bird in Iceland that is relatively easy to photograph. During our endless waits outside foxes’ dens it provided some much appreciated entertainment.
Snow Bunting (Plectrophenax nivalis)
During the last ice age the snow bunting was common throughout continental Europe. These days it is an Arctic specialist with a circumpolar breeding range in the Northern hemisphere. Most snow buntings migrate to the Arctic to reproduce and spend the winters in the northern temperate zones. In Iceland some populations stay all year round. Even if the snow bunting has been known to spend its winters in certain parts of France, I have never spotted any at the feeders that I put out for the birds during the winter months. Hence I was over the moon to come across my first male at one of the high altitude lakes in the Westfjords. Unfortunately that particular bird was not very cooperative in comparison to the individual I chanced upon a couple of weeks later on top of a mountain in the Landmannalaugar. This snow bunting was darting about, it seemed like it was looking for possible left-overs from hikers’ lunches. Lying on the dusty, stony ground, I was desparately trying to get a reasonable shot of this tiny bird, not easy with it constantly scurrying around the rocks, disappearing behind, reappearing where you don’t expect it. My 16-year old stepson, quite obviously highly embarassed by my strange contorsions on the ground, is cranking up the pressure: ” Hurry up, there is a whole group of hikers arriving, they’ll be here any minute!”
Waders and Birds of the Sea
Common Redshank (Tringa Totanus)
The third stop on our round trip is a dream of a little timber cabin in the countryside North of Hella with spectacular views of Hekla, famous for being one of Iceland’s most active volcanoes. Not only that, but the fields and pastures around us are home to many different species of birds. The evening of our arrival we are greeted by the angry calls of a redshank, a wader that I have already encountered in Norway a few years ago. This one doesn’t appreciate our intrusion on his territory at all, it keeps hopping from one fence post to the next, his alarm calls very audible all around.
The cabin is clearly part of his territory, as soon as one of us ventures out onto the terrace it appears from nowhere….
I am relieved to discover that I am not the only one to get stick from the resident redshank, the gulls that occasionally invade the airspace above the cabin get seen off straight away !
Despite the fact that the redshank follows me around the garden, it is far from easy to get a picture. The minute I point the camera in its direction it is off, only to start alarming from a little further away.
Black-tailed Godwit (Limosa limosa)
The black-tailed godwit is a beautiful and elegant long-legged, long-billed shorebird that has become rare in many parts of its range (Near Threatened status on a global scale). In Europe its numbers have dropped dramatically, over the last 30 years 75% of the population have disappeared. The main cause of the decline are the adverse effects of agricultural intensification and the resulting loss of habitats. Advanced seasonal mowing destroys nests and chicks and removes the much needed cover the nidifugious chicks depend on for their survival. Largescale wetland drainage and widespread use of artificial fertilizers and pesticides have resulted in the loss of insects, worms, larvea and other invertebrates that form the staple diet of this wader. Despite all this, the species continues to figure on the list of game birds in France, it is the only country in Europe where the black-tailed godwit is still hunted. Luckily, due to pressure from various wildlife protection associations the moratory on hunting has been extended for the 2020-2021 season, so the godwits will be safe for another year!
Unlike the declining population in continental Europe, the species is doing reasonably well in Iceland and I have been able to observe this pretty wader on a number of occasions. My most memorable encounters were in the garden of our little dream cottage in the South-East of Iceland. Returning home the second evening in the pouring rain, a slender, elegant bird with a considerable wingspan (70-80cm) settles on the lawn just outside the cabin, clearly it doesn’t appreciate us arriving. We already get flack from the resident pair of redshanks every time one of us ventures outside, now the godwits are joining in too. Surely it can’t get much better than this!
It is pouring with rain, I am lying flat in the wet grass, trying to immortalise this first encounter. Luckily the bird is not particularly shy (maybe lying down I appear less of a threat) but it surely must have wondered whether I still had all my good wits….
Over the next 3 days I spend early mornings and evenings looking for the species – several individuals seem to have their home range in the pastures and grasslands around the cabin. I am trying variations on the theme, ideally I would love to have the godwit on a nice perch with the snow-capped mountains as a backdrop. Unfortunately my neighbours are not very obliging, they can’t see why the fence post won’t do!
Eurasian Whimbrel (Numenius phaeopus)
The whimbrels’ melodious and somewhat melancholic song is still ringing in my ears. In Iceland this wader with its distinctive crescent-shaped bill can regularly be seen in grasslands and wetlands alongside roads, very often it is perched on top of a fence post.
I was lucky to be able to get to know them a little better, in the garden of our rental cottage in the South-East of Iceland where I would listen to the resident whimbrels’ trilling song every evening. Several breeding pairs had settled in the surrounding grasslands and pastures.
Unfortunately I was never able to get a decent picture of the babies, far quicker and even more elusive than their parents. The grass provided the perfect cover for these tiny balls of feathers. Most of the time it was the parents sudden change in behaviour that alerted me to the presence of chicks.
Normally, whilst not particularly shy, they would keep a certain distance, but as soon as their very mobile chicks got close, they would suddenly fly up very close to me and start prancing about right in front of my nose. Needless to say their distraction tactics worked every time!
The adults could often be seen searching for insects on the lawn just outside the cottage. Maybe the unsuspecting insects were easier to catch on the short lawn than in the high grass. In the lawn areas the ground had been levelled to make it lawnmower-friendly, but the surrounding pastures still had their bumps and hillocks, betraying the ancient lava field burried underneath the topsoil. Much prettier of course than the golf course lawn……I dreamt of taking a picture of a whimbrel on top of one of those little mounds, with the snow-capped mountains in the background, but despite the time spent waiting, their perching positions never quite lined up with the mountains…..
Common Snipe (Gallinago gallinago)
In Iceland the common snipe is indeed very common, but despite all this it isn’t the easiest bird to observe or photograph. The shy snipe spends most of its time well camouflaged and concealed in ground vegetation and one is far more likely to glimpse it either when flushed or in flight, rather than seeing it in the open. On the Hornstrandir peninsula we regularly saw snipes circling in flight above stretches of bog and wet meadows. They were too far and too elusive to really get a good look, but the so-called drumming, a sound that is produced by the air vibrating their tail feathers when flying downwards, was very audible and could usually be heard well before one managed to locate the snipe in the sky. This sound, also referred to as winnowing, is quite peculiar and and has often been likened to the bleating of a goat – in fact the snipe is known in some countries as ”sky goat” (Finland) or ”heather -bleater” (Scotland)
One evening, during dinner in our little timber cottage I heard a strange alarm call coming from the terrace. I was very surprised to discover a common snipe perched on top of the timber screen shielding the terrace. And even more surprisingly, this usually very shy bird didn’t seem to mind my presence at all. It sat there alarming for well over a quarter of an hour before flying off. I even managed to open the door (but didn’t step out) without it showing the slightest bit of concern.
The second time I managed to get close was in the cemetery of a tiny turf church where I played a round of hide and seek with 2 juveniles and one of the parents.
Arctic Tern (Sterna paradisaea)
My first morning in the garden of our little cottage, I am ambling down to the small river that borders the garden at the back. Suddenly a series of fierce and piercing alarm calls followed by a rattling sound like that of a machine gun make me look up. A slender and elegant bird is about to dive-bomb me and I have only just the time to crouch and protectively lift my arms above my head, when it changes direction just before touching my fingers. An Arctic Tern!
Arctic terns are known to be very territorial and aggressive towards intruders who (intentionally or not) get too close to their breeding sites and they don’t hesitate to fiercely peck your head if you don’t get the message straight away. Not wishing to upset it even more or to disturb the juvenile I move away as quickly as possible. From a safe distance it doesn’t take me long to spot the chick, which has in fact already fledged. It has only a tiny bit of down left on its head and back, its attempts to fly are still rather awkward compared to the agile adults. It lands in the wet grass a few meters away from my position and I manage to take a couple of pictures before the parents return with the next food delivery.
We have barely gotten out of the car in the car park of the Dyrhólaey Nature Reserve when the first terns appear above our heads ready to dive-bomb and peck our heads. The car park is right in the middle of their breeding grounds and there are chicks of varying ages everywhere!
Apart from the access road and the path, the perimeter of the car par has been fenced off to stop people getting too close to the nests. But for the terns that isn’t enough, every new arrival is greeted by some fierce dive-bombing attempts making it very clear that this is their territory. I admire their arial displays for quite a while, the parents continuously fly back and forth from the sea to feed their hungry young.
Our stay in Iceland is coming to an end, the little timber hut with a view across Kirkjufell mountain is our last stop. The gravel road leading to the holiday huts runs through some marshy grassland that is home to a large colonie of arctic terns. Their chicks seem to have only just fledged, they are still learning to fly. For now they are still very clumsy and slow, nothing like the elegance and agility of their parents soaring through the air. After dinner I walk back along the gravel road, where I make a heart-breaking discovery. Whilst the parents don’t hesitate to attack intruders on foot, they don’t realize that vehicles are a far bigger threat. Many young have lost their lives by ending up under the wheels of a car, I find dead fledglings all along the road. I am shocked and angry, this is a small gravel road, only just wide enough for 2 vehicles to pass and yet drivers can’t be bothered to slow down sufficiently to allow the young terns to get out of the way. What a waste of young lives! All the efforts of the tern parents to feed and care for their young wasted by some inconsiderate and careless humans.
Atlantic Puffin (Fratercula arctica)
Iceland isn’t the first country where I have been able to observe puffins, – a few years ago we spent a day on Skomer, an island off the Welsh coast renown for its large colonies of breeding puffins. Unfortunately it was too late in the year, in August the chicks have already fledged and the puffins spent all day out at sea and only come back on land after the last boat has left the island. Therefore I only saw them from far away, I have been wanting to see them again and get closer ever since.
This time I am hoping to be able to spend a bit more time with this beautiful and highly photogenic bird!
We come across the first puffins not far from Vik, in the Dyrhólaey Nature Reserve. Two birds have settled for a quick rest in the cliffs and all the tourists are jostling to get to the front, everybody wants to see and photograph them even though the puffins are actually quite far and too high up to get some pleasant images. In the evening Martina, our host, tells me about another spot, a little further where it is generally less crowded.
We head there after dinner, despite the dark clouds gathering in the sky. As was the case on Skomer, the puffins spend their day out at sea and only return in the evening. But at this time of the year the days are long in the far North. Unfortunately the weather is pretty lousy, it is starting to rain and with the dark clouds there is very little light. Unsurprisingly father and son have decided to wait in the car, good job our rental car has WIFI!
There are far fewer people here, I guess not many want to be out in the rain and wind at this time of the day, so the only people around are a couple of photographers waiting for the puffins to arrive. The setting isn’t ideal for bird photography, the path runs along the top of the cliffs and getting too close to the edge isn’t a good idea, unless you want to take a shortcut to the beach some 100 meters below.
Luckily the puffins are reasonably cooperative, they are used to humans wandering around here and don ‘t mind them getting close. Sometimes they land right below the path, so with a little careful balancing, it was possible to get a few pleasant images.
Encounters in the Lava Fields
Rock Ptarmigan (Lagopus muta)
After a halfday hike in the Landmannalaugar I am lagging behind the other two, admiring and photographing the amazing colours of the surrounding mountains. For the last stretch of the hike the trail winds its way through a seemingly endless ancient moss-covered lava field (Lagahraun). My camera bag feels very heavy now and I regret having dragged my zoom lens around all day, when in fact I haven’t seen a single animal. How could I possibly have imagined that any animal could survive in this almost lunar landscape? The colours of the different types of volcanic rock are spectacular, but apart from the lichen, a few dwarf wildflowers and mosses there isn’t a lot to eat. In the lava fields it is strictly prohibited to stray from the paths. Despite its barren appearance this ecosystem is particularly fragile: Lichens and mosses have taken hundreds of years to establish themselves on the lava and it would take just as long for them to grow back if trampled on by careless visitors.
During one of my many stops to admire the everchangings views of the colourful mountains surounding the lave field I hear a strange sound. A quiet chuckling sound that I don’t recognize, I keep scanning the rocks around me, but even though I can clearly hear the chuckling sound very nearby, I can’t make out exactly where it comes from. The ptarmigan’s camouflage is so effective that it takes me a few minutes to spot the female inbetween some rocks right next to the path.
Its grey-brown mottled plumage blends perfectly into the surroundings. And I am in luck, the female is very relaxed, and I have enough time to get organised. Only then do I realize that she wasn’t just talking to herself, she has at least two babies following her around! Whilst the mum is a natural poser, the little ones still have a way to go before becoming little stars….
I can’t help falling in love with this extraordinary bird that is so perfectly suited to a life in extreme climates and habitats. I admire its capacities to find food in landscapes that seem barren and during those long winter months when the ground and vegetation are covered in a think layer of snow. Unlike most birds this master of camouflage moults 3 rather than 2 times annually in order to blend into its surroundings at any time of the year. Its feathered legs work like snowshoes making it much easier to move around when the snow cover is thick in winter.
A survivor of the last ice age its range these days is much less widespread. It can be found across arctic and subarctic Europe (Scandinavia, Scotland, Iceland), North America and parts of Asia (Russia and Japan) and isolated populations exist in the Alps and the Pyrenees.
Gyrfalcon (Falco rusticolus)
The Gyrfalcon is the largest and the heaviest of all falcons. As such it is a particularly impressive raptor. Its range covers the Northernmost areas of the Northern hemisphere in Europe and North-America. Roughly a quarter of the European population breeds in Iceland, but with just 400 breeding pairs for the whole country it remains a rare bird of prey that isn’t easy to find. I am sure you can imagine just how thrilled I was to glimpse one behind the roadside trees as we were driving along! But my joy wasn’t meant to last, firstly because you can’t of course just suddenly stop somewhere alongside the road, when there is no hard shoulder and secondly I am blessed with a particularly uncooperative driver. Before I know it we are already way too far. Turning back is not an option for the other two, ”You don’t seriously think your bird will wait for you? It’ll be long gone by the time we get back there! – Don’t worry we’ll take you to the bird museum.” I reply that I prefer live birds over dead birds, but nobody takes any notice.
Even our walk around the Hverfjall crater doesn’t make me forget the missed unique opportunity this morning, I wish now I had insisted a bit more. I start ranting:
”You already made me miss the opportunity of a lifetime this morning when you wouldn’t stop for the gyrfalcon!”
”When I wouldn’t stop for your what???”
”For her weird bird” clarifies my 16 year old stepson sitting in the back with a deep sigh. I am not sure what exasperates him more, his dad’s bad memory or my obsession with wildlife.
”The gyrfalcon is the world’s largest falcon” I try to explain. ”Sure that it is the biggest”?
”YES!!!”-
”Well in that case…..
”In any case, given the choice I prefer looking for birds alongside the road rather than seeing yet more rocks” adds my stepson drily. After the castle overdose in Scotland and Wales he now quite obviously suffers from an overdose of lava fields. But I don’t care, I am over the moon that the two are willing to head back to where I saw the raptor.
Miraculously the falcon is still in the area, I can’t believe my luck! This time it is perched out in the open, on top of a big rock, just next to the road. I spot it from a good distance and have sufficient time to tell the driver to stop. And, second miracle of the day, the car actually grinds to a halt not far from the rock. I take out my binoculars and watch the bird from the inside of the car, but the falcon doesn’t blink. I open the window, still no reaction. I grab my camera and open the door, slowly, slowly, centimeter by centimeter. The bird of prey still shows no reaction. I slip out of the car, it is keeping an eye on me, but doesn’t seem nervous at all. Pleasantly surprised by its lack of reaction I decide to continue. Very very slowly, one step at a time I am inching closer, stopping every couple of meters. I try to slowly raise the camera, the falcon doesn’t move. I am deliriously happy.
Suddenly I see it turning its head and following its gaze I realize that this exceptional encounter unfortunately won’t last. Another car has stopped a little further along the road and the driver is briskly walking towards us. Even for the most patient and trusting falcon in the world this is too much. The bird defecates, ruffles its featheres and sails off across the lava field. I am livid, the scene reminds me of our experience in Canada, where you couldn’t possibly stop anywhere alongside the road without having numerous other cars doing the same thing, all worried they might miss something. Infuriating!
On the way to the bird museum I spot another gyrfalcon a good distance from the road, but this individual is clearly a lot more suspicious of humans, as soon as the car stops it heads off even further away.
