Return to Iran, the Enchantment Continues. (1 Viewer)

Following on from my successful trips to Iran in summer and winter, this trip saw me returning for three weeks between April 4 and 26 to savour the best of spring.

Building on previous trips, the aims this time were to seek out some of the more elusive specialities (particularly Caspian Tit, but also Black-headed Penduline Tit and Basra Reed Warbler), to travel across the remote Dasht--e-Kavir desert and to generally have a whole bunch more adventures in this excellent country.

Needless to say, the country did not fail to impress...

Yet another of your reports I'm looking forward to reading!

5 April. Roodbarak.

Welcome to Iran, huge queues at customs, but a polite smile from the immigration guy and I was in, albeit taking two hours to get through the airport. With a taxi direct to Tehran’s western bus terminal, I was soon aboard a comfy bus and admiring my first birds of the day, a Common Myna poking about on some scrubby grass and hoards of House Sparrows playing suicidal games with the manic urban traffic!

The bus was heading to Chalus on the Caspian Sea via the ultra-scenic trans-Alborz road, snow-capped peaks and lush valleys soon replacing the chaos of Tehran. About 30km before Chalus, I departed the bus and hitch-hiked up to Roodbarak, a village at the gateway to a tranquil side valley nestled beneath the towering Alum Kuh mountain. Here, rising high to the left and right, superb tracts of stunted Hycathian forests hugged the precipitous slopes, splendid-looking habitat and hopefully home to my number one target on this trip, the highly localised Caspian Tit.

Barely had I arrived in the valley and there was a flash of red on an old stone wall …jeepers, it was a Wallcreeper, what a good way to start the birding! As I admired this little fellow, a couple of Black Redstarts also hopped about on boulders and a Semi-collared Flycatcher flitted in small trees aside the stream. I got the idea I was going to like this valley!

Lugging my rucksack onto my back, I began my walk up the valley, primarily looking for somewhere to put my tent. Quite a lot of Grey Wagtails along the stream, one Dipper too. About three kilometres beyond the village, I found my camping spot – near the stream, out of sight of the small road that trundles up the valley and, most importantly, a stone’s throw from the Hyrcanian forests all around.

By now, middle of the afternoon and feeling a little jaded from the previous night’s travel, I was tempted to just go straight to sleep, but instead decided on a quick foray in the forests. Oo er, it was rather tough going – not only were the forests on semi-vertical slopes, but the ground was a loose mix saturated by melting snow. I spent as almost as much time sliding down as I did climbing up! No Caspian Tits to report, but a good selection of other common woodland birds – mostly a typical European mix, including Wrens, Robins, Dunnocks and assorted thrushes, but also a little eastern flavour with Red-fronted Serins zipping over and both Rock Buntings and Western Rock Nuthatches on some of the outcrops dotting the area.

Also lots of Great Tits, Blue Tits and Coal Tits …hopefully the next day would bring one more to this family. With a Golden Eagle overhead and Common Redstarts singing from up the slope, I retired into my tent, a much need rest in order.



Photo: Roodbarak Valley, those slopes are really steeper than they look!

Nice beginning to what will be another enthralling adventure, I'm sure. Looking forward to the next instalment.

How you sleep in such situations is beyond me Jos.

Look forward to the next installment!

Jeepers indeed.

6 April. Roodbarak.

A bright crisp dawn, blue skies and a pair of Alpine Chough soaring above. I shuffled out from my tent, Rock Buntings flitted up, a Grey Wagtail bounded off down the stream, it was time to resume my search for Caspian Tits.

Two years earlier, Swedish birders had found a pair further up the valley, but with the slopes looking even worse there (equally steep, made of the same slushy mix, but also sporting a fresh layer of snow on top), I sure didn’t fancy the hike to the top of those slopes! In the valley bottom, dozens of Red-fronted Serins fed in scrubby patches, Rock Buntings called from boulders and Chiffchaffs sang from all over, a presumed migrant Mountain Chiffchaff also present. Chaffinches were abundant and, a little unexpected, a flock of 12 Bramblings also appeared streamside. About a kilometre or so above my camping site, a small side track wound up the slope seemingly to an old quarry …now that seemed an easy option, I thought, far better than breaking my neck on the other slopes! Bounded by woodland, the track arched up the slope for a kilometre or so and initially proved rather birdless, a few Dunnocks about the only thing seen. Then however, two small birds flitted along the weedy edge of the track, I flicked up my binoculars and, stone me, feeding on the ground, two quite super Caspian Tits in all their glory! Rather more similar to Willow Tits than Sombre Tits, these were most engaging little birds, and certainly had proved rather easier to find than I had been expecting!

And I was in for another treat. It soon became apparent that the birds were nesting in a twisted old tree just up the slope, the nest hole about two metres above the ground. After the pair found by the Swedish birders, this was only the second ever nest found for this little-known species – over the next half hour, I was treated to superb views as the birds zipped back and fro.

Walking further up the valley, feeling rather happy I would not need to climb the slopes, I then encountered another Caspian Tit feeding in trees adjacent to the main track and later another individual in bushes aside the stream near my tent! Also found a couple of Water Pipits, a female Black-eared Wheatear and stopped on more than one occasion to admire the mass of butterflies – Queen of Spain Fritillary, Painted Ladies, Red Admirals and Clouded Yellows.

By now however, approaching midday, the weather was on the change – great wafts of fog and cloud were rolling up the valley, the temperature began to drop and rain certainly looked imminent. Most content with my Caspian Tits, I decided to a good time to exit the valley, taking my tent down just as the first spots of rain began. Walked down to the mountain track and, ten minutes later, a car came trundling down and gave me a lift.

From Roodbarak, I hitched to the Caspian coast and then took a savari (shared taxi) east to Babolsar, a nondescript seaside town. Drizzle for much of route, but cleared just as I arrived. Spent the late afternoon watching the rather stormy Caspian Sea – one Marsh Harrier along the coast, flocks of Caspian, Black-headed and Little Gulls offshore. Spent the night in a hotel in town, the most expensive accommodation of my entire trip at 19 euro!

Photographs:

1. The nest site, slope on the left
2. & 3. Caspian Tit, number one target in the bag.

wolfbirder said:

How you sleep in such situations is beyond me Jos.

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Wait till a little later, camping in far wilder regions to follow, avoiding marauding rangers

Congrats on those Caspian Tits Jos, excellent photos, looks like a stunning locality too.

Cheers

That is one smart little bird Jos. I'm more determined than ever now to get my sorry ar*e into Iran.

Sooooo jealous.

Stupid politics.

Jos Stratford said:

6 April. Roodbarak.

, this was only the second ever nest found for this little-known species – over the next half hour, I was treated to superb views as the birds zipped back and fro.

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Awesome!

Jeff hopkins said:

Sooooo jealous.

Stupid politics.

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Amen on that.

+1 for those Caspian Tits, Jos! Great shots.

7 April. Babolsar.

After the splendour of the Alborz mountains, the Caspian lowlands are a bit of a shock – sprawling towns, featureless flat agricultural land and uninspiring grey beaches …not exactly my cup of tea! Dotted across however, there are a number of wetlands of importance, including Fereydoon Kenar, site of my earlier success with wintering Siberian Crane, and here just 10 km further east, a couple of pools at Babolsar, summer home to Black-headed Penduline Tits, my target for this day.

The plan of action was simple – minimising my time in this part of Iran, I would get to the pools at dawn, see the birds and then leave. Good plan, just someone forgot to tell the birds! The day started well enough with a virtually non-stop chattering mass of sparrows marking my hour-long pre-dawn walk to the pools, the flocks a real hotchpotch of three species, House Sparrows dominating in the urban areas, Tree Sparrows and Spanish Sparrows taking over as I exited town.

Arriving at the wetlands however, with the sun just breaking the horizon, my first impression was, well, pretty naff! No chirping flocks of birds, no flotillas of birds drifting across serene waters …the grand total of birds on view amounted to one Coot and two Moorhens! Never mind, at least the penduline tits should be fairly easy to find, I thought. Essentially two semi-reeded pools surrounded by embankments, I’d simply walk the banks and, sooner or later, bump into the desired birds. Humph, three hours later, after two very careful circuits of both pools, I was fairly confident there were no penduline tits of any description present! To give the site a little credit however, I did actually manage to notch up a fair selection of other birds, including several Purple Herons, both Marsh and Montagu’s Harriers, an Osprey, a flock of Garganeys, three Kingfishers and quite a number of both Cetti’s and Moustached Warblers. As the Black-headed Penduline Tits however, I could only guess I was a week or so too early in the season. I decided to depart, maybe I would return later in the trip.

By late afternoon, travelling by savari from city to city, I reached the small town of Aliabad. Fairly attractive in comparison, with wooded hills rising to the south and the snow-capped eastern Albroz beyond, this would serve as base for a little exploration the next day. With Common Swifts and assorted hirundines whirling above, I checked into a bargain-basement four-euro a night hotel for two nights.

thirudevaram said:

+1 for those Caspian Tits, Jos! Great shots.

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+2 ...nothing more worth saying, brilliant...

I might have to do this in the near future. I went last year but to visit family, not with birding in mind.

8 April. Aliabad (Shrinabad Valley).

Detained by the police! I had grand plans for this day, a trans-Alborz trek from the Caspian lowlands up and over the snowy peaks to the semi-desert on the other side. Though the route theoretically was over 50 km, I imagined it would be fairly simple to hitch-hike to the last village on the Caspian side and thereby save 30 km.

So it was, another bright dawn and I set off, a Little Owl and Hoopoe in the agricultural plains outside Aliabad and then a very European mix to the birds in the dense beech woodlands – Great Spotted Woodpeckers, Nightingales, a couple of singing Willow Warblers and the like. Hitching and walking, I soon started to make altitude, the bird mix altering subtly with a Red-breasted Flycatcher appearing as the woods began to thin, Red-fronted Serins and Rock Buntings populating stony meadows and an impressive hooo hooo marking out an Eagle Owl.

At the 30 km mark, I reached the village of Shrinabad, the end of the road, the route onward a rough summer-only track leading up and through the peaks, I hoped eventually to juniper forests sometimes home to the highly elusive White-winged Grosbeak. A dozen Common Whitethroats sang out, and as I ascended, my first Hume’s Lesser Whitethroat of the trip too.

Taking a much needed breather, I sat upon a rock and gazed up …the peaks did seem an awfully long way away! However, just then a motorbike which had been zigzagging up and down various tracks came bouncing along and stopped. Not the usual friendly look upon his face, but instead a rather stern look and a demand to see my passport. Now, staying in a hotel in Iran, it is obligatory to leave your passport in reception, so I gestured towards Aliabad and said ‘passport hotel’. This did not amuse my new chum and after some attempted discussion, it now clear he was the village policeman, he ordered me to get on the back of his motorbike. I refused, something he didn’t seem to like either! After some protestation, he trundled back towards the village and 15 minutes later was back with reinforcements, two more police in a car. Ah, thoughts of reaching the summit were fading fast. An hour we sat there, innumerable phone calls going back and forwards, a translator asking me to please get in the police car and return to Aliabad, they just wanted to check my passport. The fact they could check it themselves seemed to cut no ice. Did my best to do a little birding while sitting there, a bunch of Common Buzzards and a few Stonechats the only highlights. Finally, understanding my trans-Alborz trek was over, I decided to accept the ‘offer’ for a free lift back to Aliabad. A full police reception awaited me at the hotel, two senior guys and a translator and they already had my passport! Most apologetic they were and tried to say they were just concerned for my safety. After another half hour, they asked to check my room, but retracted the request when I asked if this was for my safety too! Then, with smiles, they handed back my passport and I was free to go …what a waste of time, but to be fair, they did offer me a lift back to the village.

Rather than the Shrinabad valley, I decided to better spend my afternoon on the forested slopes just south of town …and what a good decision it was, I bumped into an absolutely superb flock of Red-breasted Flycatchers - quite obviously migrants, virtually all were males and they numbered at least 55, quite a sight indeed as they flitted out from every branch in sight. Also, one Pheasant, presumably true wild stock, rather than the introduced birds of western Europe.

Spent the night in Aliabad again, the police phoning middle evening to apologise for disturbing me during the day!

9 April. Into the Desert, Touran.

The Dasht-e-Kavir desert, the wildest and most remote of Iran’s deserts, basically hundreds of square kilometres of salt flats, fringed by rock and tracts of sparse Zygophyllum vegetation. Very much an area I wished to travel through, the wilderness occupies a vast expanse of north-eastern Iran and is home to a mouth-watering array of exotica such as the world’s only Asiatic Cheetahs, Persian Wild Asses and the enigmatic Pleske’s Ground Jay.

Having hitch-hiked from Aliabad to the northern extreme of the desert, it was however with a certain degree of foreboding that I tackled this leg of my trip – as I stood at a lonely road junction waiting for a lift south, with 900 km of even lonelier road ahead, not only did I have no idea if there would be any cars using my intended route, but I was also only carrying two litres of water and, more importantly, did not have the required permit to visit Touran Protected Area, my first planned destination.

Two Hoopoes and a Laughing Dove kicked up dust, a Golden Eagle soared to the north. Adjacent, a little scrubby bush offered shelter to a couple of cross-desert migrants – one Red-breasted Flycatcher and one Semi-collared Flycatcher. How long would I share their company, I wondered. My hope was to get a lift to a desert village 80 km distant, then if no more cars walk the remaining 30 km to Touran. I would then monitor the road over the next day to see whether to push further south into the depths of the desert and exit via the south.

In Iran things have a tendency to work out even if you think they won’t – after a mere 20 minutes of waiting, a car came by and stopped, a smiling face appeared at the window and gestured me to get in. He was driving way to the south and could drop me at the Touran Protected Area! Well, that was a stroke of luck, now I’d even be able to do some desert birding before dark!

Dropping through the last mountains before the open desert, flocks of Chukar Partridge scuttled up the slopes and then the open expanse began, a most impressive roadsign warning of Cheetahs. It was time for me to bid my lift farewell and set off into the desert. Having no permit, my strategy was to absolutely avoid the reserve headquarters, a few kilometres down a side track, and to simply hike away from the road and generally stay out of sight. ‘Just nip back and photograph that sign first’, I thought. This decision was to be my downfall! Only a kilometre or two back, so off I went, Eastern Pied Wheatears and Desert Larks along the road, one singing Southern Grey Shrike. Just short of the sign, while I was a few dozen metres into the desert, a car happened to come by and immediately stopped. Uh oh, that was bad timing, a ranger!

Showing my passport didn’t pacify him too much and soon he was on the phone, two more rangers arriving in about ten minutes. Jeepers, I could see where this was going, I was about to be detained for the second time in two days! And sure enough, the police were called and half an hour or so later they arrived. After another bit of discussion, I was bundled into the car and 30 km we went, back to the village I had happily passed through earlier in the afternoon! Lots of discussion later, most of which none of us understood, they photocopied my passport, asked something about GPS which I prudently agreed I did not have and then they asked where I wanted to go. ‘Back to Touran’ I replied, ‘then south’. This did not seem a problem, so I then asked them to take me back …which, bearing in mind I still had no permit, they rather surprisingly agreed to do!

Ah, all’s well that ends well. The police guys drove me 30 km back, then looked rather bemused as I asked to be let out near the original Cheetah sign to finally take my photograph. I then hiked directly east away from the road, vanished over a ridge and for good measure hiked a couple of kilometres south too. No way the ranger could find me now! I set up my tent in a most attractive shallow wadi, then set out for a little late evening birding …as the sun was beginning to set, Desert Wheatears singing their scratchy songs, three Eastern Olivaceous Warblers flicking their tails in thickets and one stunning Orphean Warbler a bit of surprise.

I retired into my tent, a great place to spend the night, the wind rippling my flysheet, a Little Owl calling some way off.