There is a quiet magic at Mandina, a magic born of the simple pleasure of being amongst abundant nature. It positively teems with life – the very land buzzing with a kind of thrumming undercurrent of existence. It gets into your pores. Any stay there is about seeking new ways of absorbing all that life around you: laying still in a hammock letting the humid air, thick with scents and calls, lay heavily on your body; walking through the ringing forest, feeling the liquid heat rising out of the ground, seeing flashes of colour, the glare of baboons. But it’s out on the water that the information comes through clearest – umoored for a moment, free from the pull of the land…
The River Gambia - Image by {link:http://www.flickr.com/photos/ankehuber/}Anke Huber{/link}
The tide was very low by now and the mangrove roots with their shellfish passengers were almost totally exposed. You could see through the knotty mass to the great mudflats beyond, and hear the odd sucking and slapping of the shifting surface as the land exhaled in great warm sighs. Due to the low tide we had go out in a shallow bottomed boat which we picked up from the deck of the last floating lodge. The sun was already making its steady downturn and our pilot urged us on, saying that the birds were already beginning their journey home. As we made our way along the ever-widening tributary we could make out the high piping call of kingfishers and turn to see the afterglow of blue as one shot into the undergrowth, and we also spotted a sedate sea-eagle perched nonchalantly in the top branches of a mangrove cluster, eyeing up the river for food, or simply resting for the night. After a time we came to a part of the river were two tributaries met and we sat in a great sweep of river with the engine silenced.
A trio of bee eaters in The Gambia
Great massed ranks of white egrets and herons flew across the horizon in front of the glowing disc of the sun, wave after wave, sometimes as many as thirty birds in a flock, the silence broken only by the almost imperceptible beat of wings and the occasional muted croak. This procession continued for what seemed like ages, and the total count must have been well into the thousands – where they went is still a relative secret, but it is rumoured that there is an island somewhere out in the mangroves that sags under the weight of close to five thousand birds. In time this will surely be sought out and become a spectacular attraction but for now the very thought of it in all its spattered feathered glory is a joy to behold. Mangroves have shallow root systems and join together to share nutrients, small islands have been known to become dislodged and float out into the ocean, washing up on foreign shores many thousands of miles away. If one day the birds clasped their talons in unison and took to the skies might they not create a vast forested, flying island? Now there would be a spectacle…
Sunset, The River Gambia
After a time we were jolted from our reveries by our pilot who was exclaiming loudly ‘Goliath Heron! Goliath Heron!’ This massive stilted bird is one of The Gambia’s largest and a rare find. Unlike the other herons we had seen in their regiments and squadrons, this bird was solitary and elusive, preferring to stay deep in the mangroves. The heron, a beautiful mix of velvety purples and greys, was balanced in the top of a mangrove cluster blending almost perfectly into the greying sun-devoid sky; as we approached we again killed the engine and trained the camera on it. As if reading some avian script it rose gracefully from the tree and slowly flapping its massive wings flew low across the water to the opposite bank, where it once more sat atop a bound reef of mangroves. The pilot was laughing to himself, and he told us it was good luck to see a Goliath Heron. He asked did we want to continue on to see more of the river but the sky was darkening and to be frank we were full up, engorged by all this effortless beauty. Instead we turned for home, leaving Goliath in peace.
Sunset, The River Gambia Photo by {link:http://www.flickr.com/photos/helen61/}helen.2006{/link}
Later, as we turned to leave the encampment, the moon was full again but lower now and we could pick it out through the dense branches of the mango trees. Maybe it was just the fatigue but somehow, just beneath the surface of things, it was possible to sense the minute tremors as the insistent tug of gravity returned the massive body of water to the parched mangrove beds.
If you’re interested in bird watching in The Gambia you can find out more on our birding pages on the Gambia website. Alternatively, you can download this PDF which features a checklist of all bird species in The Gambia – 569 of them!
