Bastam Valley. 7 January.
A last throw of the dice, a bright crisp morning, minus ten again, clear skies and sun. Stretching to the north-east of Shahrud, I’d seen a broad valley the day before, carpeted in a mosaic of assorted orchards, tilled fields and stands of poplar - surely an magnet to any passing birds, snow-decked mountains to the north, the vast desert of Dasht-e-Kavir forever south. Here, I would play my dice.
Hitched a lift seven kilometres up to the small town of Bastam, cut across into the valley, and then began my slow meander back. I had some hopes of perhaps a wintering Black-throated Thrush, but also had some expectations of seeing virtually nothing. The dice truly landed the right side up, the day turned out to be a fantastic finale to my trip to Iran, good birding all the way and a few very nice surprises.
Barely a hundred metres down, the first nice bird of the day – atop one of the many traditional mud enclosures, a very smart Little Owl watching me go, eyes sparkling in the morning sun. Next up, a big powerful female Goshawk powering her way through the valley, the local corvids none too impressed. Not a common species in Iran and my first in the country, I was rather more impressed. A few Chaffinches and Linnets also in the area, then the first Rock Buntings of the day, a small flock feeding amongst iced stalks, the remnants of a crop now long since harvested. Three Woodlarks in their midst, then up they flitted to a small copse, a degree of bird activity seeming to eminate from that quarter. Circled round, a few Great Tits and the Rock Buntings already visible, three Song Thrushes flying out. Maybe here would be my Black-throated Thrush? I sneaked in and birds galore, all winterers from the north – a Wren up to scold, then two new species for the trip in rapid succession, a whole bunch of Bramblings, then two Redwings. Not quite a Black-throated Thrush, but on the last day of a trip, any additions to the trip list are welcome, and I was now already on three! On I ambled, admiring the frost-coated landscape, enjoying the peaceful serenity. Flocks of Shore Larks here and there, occasional Rock Buntings every so often. A little to the south, I reached a more open area, plots of cut wheat, mud embankments to channel irrigation water, poplars and orchards more diffuse.
10.00 a.m., a couple of hours into my walk, a real purple patch. It all started with a humble flock of Yellowhammers feeding at a field’s edge, a few Rock Buntings with them, another four Woodlarks too. This being north-east Iran, Yellowhammers always deserve a careful scan, so that’s what I did – about forty birds, a mix of bright and subtle yellows as I worked through from the left. And then a cold colourless bird, not a hint of yellow, pale fringings to the primaries ...bingo, one Pine Bunting. The flock rose and settled in a hedge, now three Pine Buntings!!! One winter male, two female types. Well that chuffed me no end. All of a hundred metres further, the action continued, a female Eversmann’s Redstart perched in a polladed willow grabbing my attention, a fairly confiding individual who seemed content for me to take a photograph. Then all hell broke lose, sat on a mud wall just adjacent, and until then unseen by me, a stonking great Sakar Falcon took to the air, scattering a flock of Rock Doves and immediately distracting me from my photo session with the lady redstart. Off the Saker went and then promptly sat itself down on a heap of mud in the middle of one of the fields. Meanwhile, my redstart had now taken offence at being upstaged and had retired to a grove of fruit trees, no longer offering any reasonable chances for pictures. A bird then flew into the top of a poplar overhead, chirping a slight twinkling as it went. And there sat my first Desert Finch of the trip, soon to be joined by three more, cracking stuff.
Could it get any better? With the Saker still in the field, I wandered a little her way, but off she went, low across the field, up and over the next orchard, flushing a large flock of passerines as she went. They settled in a ploughed field, so I followed to check them out. Linnets mostly, but two chunky-billed crackers too – Mongolian Finches! I was losing count of all the new additions to the trip list. And then one more, just a few minutes after a second Goshawk came cruising by, a male this time, so too did a Hen Harrier, a ringtail completing the full set of four harriers on this trip, neat.
Via small flocks of Spanish Sparrows, Meadow Pipits, then Tree Sparrows, I reached a small village – left I could continue down the valley, right would take me back to the road. Sadly, I was finally running out of time, back to Shahrud I had to go. A Sparrowhawk in town, a bunch of personata White Wagtails on the sidewalks and a Grey Wagtail on a trafffic island, in my hotel room I packed my bag for the last time.
At 2.00 p.m., I boarded a bus for the six-hour ride to Tehran, landscapes of semi-desert flying past, occasional Common Ravens, more frequent Hooded Crows. My trip to Iran was basically over, a final battle with the Tehrani taxi drivers and a last game of Russian roulette on the crazy roads of the capital. 8.30 p.m., I was back at Iman Khomeini International Airport.
Departure from Iran. 8 January.
04.10 a.m., a half hour late, I take off into the dark skies of northern Iran, next stop Istanbul, a lenghty stop-over and thereafter Frankfurt and eventually Vilnius.
Iran had done it again, exceeded my expectations, the birding phenominal in both the sub-tropical south and the sub-zero north. On top of that, throw in the never-ending hospitality and charm of the Iranian people, the cultural delight of Yazd Old City, plus the big bonus of chance encounters with Wolf, and I guess I have to say, it was a very good second trip to the country. Thank you Iran.
