Vetericyn Veterinary Mission to The Gambia

Posted on November 11, 2011 by Matt Smith

A guest post from Pat and Laura who are currently engaged on an epic trip to The Gambia with some much needed supplies for the Gambia Horse and Donkey Trust. You can follow their travels and travails on YouTube and if you can spare any cash please do support them. It’s a brilliant cause and a brilliant charity!

In October this year two Suffolk-based vets, Pat Sells & Laura Heaps, plan to drive 4,000 miles to a veterinary clinic in The Gambia, West Africa (http://www.gambiahorseanddonkey.org.uk/). Pat Sells (of Rossdales, Newmarket) has worked as a volunteer vet in Africa before, and Laura too has a keen interest in the welfare of working animals in the developing world.

The Gambia Horse & Donkey Trust is an independent charity that runs a busy clinic in Sambel Kunda, The Gambia. They carry out essential work, providing free veterinary care to a large population of horses, donkeys and mules that normally wouldn’t have any access to such help.

The trip will be made in a 4×4 which will be donated to the clinic, where it is sorely needed to get help to ill and injured horses and donkeys in the region. The vehicle will also double up as a human ambulance to get local casualties to the distant hospital. During the following months Pat & Laura will stay at the clinic to work as volunteers. Apart from the day-to-day treatment of animals, this will involve taking samples to investigate the myriad of infectious diseases that run riot through the local horse and donkey populations, leaving their owners unable to support their families.

‘The Gambia Experience’ travel company has pledged its support as one of the company sponsors, providing a very generous donation which will directly help in reducing the suffering of the animals (and people!) of the region. Every year horses and donkeys die needlessly from disease and neglect. The scale of the animal welfare problem is staggering. 95% of the world’s veterinary care focuses on just 5% of the world’s animals and livestock! There are over 100 million equines (horses, donkeys, mules) in the developing world, the vast majority without any access to veterinary care, and under the constant threat of fatal infectious diseases. It’s time we tried to balance this inequality and make a difference! With the help of sponsors such as The Gambia Experience, we will be able to do just that.”

There is a website for fundraising which shows the running total raised by the trip: http://www.justgiving.com/gambiaroadtrip. Any donation, no matter how small is greatly appreciated – this vehicle will make an immeasurable difference to the welfare of animals in the region. For any more details please contact Pat at patricksells21@hotmail.com.

A hyena at Abuko

Posted on October 19, 2010 by Matt Smith

Hyena at Abuko

Sally Bowe has added a wonderful new set of images to the Gambia Experience Flickr pool, including this gorgeous young hyena from the Abuko Nature Reserve. As Sally rightly says, the guys at Abuko are doing a great job with very minimal funds. Big cats and mammals in general aren’t a huge feature of The Gambia as there simply isn’t the space for them to roam freely; but at places like Abuko animals are rescued and safely reared and often released into the wild in neighbouring Senegal. All power to them and the excellent work they do.

To see more of Sally’s photography, please visit her Flickr page.

A morning’s bird watching at Abuko with Chris Packham.

Chris Packham Diary – Day 2

Posted on July 16, 2010 by Matt Smith

Dawn on the River Gambia. Image by {link: http://www.flickr.com/photos/girlietash/394526349/}Girlietash{/link}

Thanks to the efforts of marketing fuds like our good selves, you’d be forgiven for thinking the dominating feature of The Gambia is its plentiful beaches. It isnt. Not by a long chalk. People aside, the pulsing heart of The Gambia is its mighty river. It is the river which provides food and sustenance, the river that provides the fertile lands that ensure Gambians will never grow hungry, and it’s the river – labyrinthine and endlessly divergent – which makes The Gambia many times the size it appears on maps. There are worlds in these tributaries.

Thus it was that we found ourselves once more in the morning murk, boarding a creaking vessel sailing for the open ocean… The rumour of the day’s heat was already upon us as we departed on our two-tier craft, and though it was way before breakfast, Sandwich Terns and even a Yellow-billed Kite were abroad, speculating, seeking out hunting grounds. Sunrise is an odd thing in The Gambia, at least compared to what I’m used to in Northern Europe. There is none of the soft blues and roses, followed by the advent of sharp light; instead, as the sun rises, the sky takes on a beige, grainy quality, and the sun takes the eyes, muffled, like a muted glowing coin. As we chugged along a now widening tributaries, various herons and egrets flew across in glorious silhouettes.

Pelicans - lots of them. Image by Jane Allen

As we made lazy progress along the river, we could hear the soft clicks of the freshwater oysters that clung to the exposed roots of the mangrove reefs. These are superabundant in this part of the river and are regularly harvested by women who sidle up to the root systems at low tide in brightly painted skiffs. We began to see Pink-backed Pelicans – in ones and twos and more – and as we came closer to open water, Caspian Terns became boatside companions. All along the exposed mudflats were basking crabs and gangs of whimbrel, filling the air with their soft babbling song. Occasionally these would take flight, and peep their three-note call as if in mild annoyance at being disturbed. As breakfast was served (immense tubes of bread filled with fresh-cooked bacon and egg) we saw Common Greenshank, and a single Ruddy Turnstone.

Caspian Tern. Image by Chris Packham.

Post-breakfast is something of a haze as we retired to the roof and became a little sun-drunk and lazy. In truth the intense heat was keeping much of the bird life away – sensibly they sought shade, preferring to hunt later in the day. Two surprises did present themselves however: an Arctic Skua and a Cape Gull, a relatively new species to the Senegambia region and quite a find, especially for Chris and Malick, who of course live for this stuff. The pilot must have been in awe as well, as we somehow got ourselves stuck atop a rogue sandbar. No matter, one of the breakfast chefs merely lowered himself overboard and after a deal of levering with a wooden pole we were safely on our way once more.

The masters consult...

Birdwatching in style

Once we were afloat again, we approached a bulky mudflat that was home to a few Eurasian Oystercatchers escaping the dread of winter, and a solitary African Spoonbill. A European Storm-Petrel was also spotted, skimming low across the water. It was here that we also came face to face with a large Yellow-billed Stork, picking through the mudflats for shellfish. It was quite a sight in repose, but in flight it was something else, impossibly scissored against the blue of the sky.

The stork takes flight... Image by Jane Allen

It was here, on our turn for home that we also finally saw a raptor – a beautiful Osprey. Simon King had been in Senegal in recent weeks looking for Scottish Ospreys that are known to travel to West Africa for the winter months. Part of reason for the richness of The Gambia’s bird life is that on top of the country’s own perfect climate for so many species is that it’s also in the migration zone – both for birds looking to overwinter, and those who are stopping off, before continuing their treks south, south to yet warmer climes… It was hard not to wonder if this bird might soon be seen high in the Douglas Firs surrounding Loch Lomond. As we approached the rickety port of Denton Bridge, we saw many Little Swifts, hoovering up flies above the surface of the water, and the by now ubiquitous mobs of Hooded Vultures.

A magnificent Osprey. Image by Chris Packham.

That evening was all about, initially at least, setting eyes on the Painted Snipe. We headed back down to the rice paddies behind Badala Park, and with new information that there was a male with three chicks somewhere in the vicinity we waited whilst Malick and Chris stalked like brave tigers… That mention of the ‘male with three chicks’ isn’t a typo – the Painted Snipe is one of a few species where the male and female swap roles, so the fella is at home with the nippers whilst the female is out creating merry hell. It’s also true that against convention, the female is the more brightly coloured of the pair (in almost all cases it is the male who bears the burden of attraction).

It should be mentioned here just how elusive the Painted Snipe is – this is one tough bird to see. You could step over one and not notice it beneath you. So all credit to Malick that he eventually spotted the male, and managed to ‘flush it’ so most of us could get a look at the sainted beast. I don’t mind admitting that to me it was little more than a mildly attractive brown-to-grey wader, but this is an important bird to many and there was a good deal of buzz once we’d seen the creature. Imagine if we’d seen a female!

Male Greater Painted-Snipe. Image by {link: http://www.flickr.com/photos/snarfel/3236665706/}f_snarfel{/link}

After finally finding our quarry, an evening on Fajara Golf Course was going to be a breeze. We were immediately assailed by a beautiful Abyssinian Roller (a quite beautiful bird that utterly failed to impress Chris who thought it something of a tart and awarded it a paltry 3.4 out of 10), and a glamourous, if raucous, band of Ring-necked Parakeets. We also saw numerous Wood Hoopoes, nesting in the swaying palms, and a sweet Yellow-fronted Tinkerbird, hiding in an Acacia tree. Then came the grand finale. Malick has a habit of making owlet calls when he thinks he might be in the right place to spot one. Well on this occasion he got an immediate response. You might think that from there it’d be easy to seek out the call and observe the owl in situ, but you’d be wrong. Aside from the skill of mimicry, the greater part of the talent of spotting is being able to locate the call, and in the case of the Pearl-spotted Owlet, seeing the damn thing at all. It’s tiny – not much bigger than say, a large hand. But let it be said – once Malick had indulged his near preternatural ability to locate the smallest of foes, this wee beastie is a tiny and utterly captivating one. Stood there in the soft evening light, all taking it in turns to zero in through the various scopes that had been trained on the owlet, one had to wonder at the nature of all this: the effortless beauty, the abundance of life and how much of it we miss with our blundering clatter through the world, and yes, a little of the absurdity of being on the other side of the world, staring through a magnifying lens at something of quite such perfect proportions.

Pearl-spotted Owlet. Image by {link: http://www.flickr.com/photos/anymotion/2089741738/}Anymotion{/link}

A big thanks to Dave Allen for letting me have access to his superbly detailed bird diary for this day.

Chris Packham Diary – Day 1

Posted on June 3, 2010 by Matt Smith

What follows is a 3-part account of the Chris Packham Gambia bird tour, that ran from 5th-8th Feb of this year (some of the party continued on for three more days at Makasutu, I escaped to Senegal). Needless to say it was a cracking few days, and for so many reasons: for the sheer number of different bird species we saw (147 at the last count); for enabling us to see so many different, odd corners of The Gambia; for getting to know a bunch of cool people; and, of course, getting to (figuratively) stand on the shoulders of two people with such a depth of knowledge of the Gambian bird life, and wildlife in general. Though they might not get mentioned that much, Chris and Malick are implicit in everything that happened, and everything I learned. I just wish someone had told me the birds got up so damn early…

6.30am found us huddled beneath a huge mahogany tree, squinting into the milky light of pre-dawn. We were at the entrance to the Abuko nature reserve, a vast tract of forest and open scrub and home to a renowned natural pool, excellent for spotting a good number of species. The night before the group of 18 had had a brief meeting with Chris at Bakotu where we’d sized one another up and been introduced to the inimitable Malick – prince of bird watchers and, as it turned out, a purveyor of heroic local knowledge. Thus it was that this straggly party entered the reserve, heavy with binoculars, heavy with anticipation.

Malick, Chris and the team at Abuko

The first thing we see is a dense line of nomadic ants, clustered into a fibrous cylinder across the pathway. They group together in this fashion to keep themselves warm, and to protect their queen, who is safe somewhere in the centre of the gathering. At first glance the ragged pile looks like leaf or vegetable matter, or even hair – which I guess is the point. The ants reportedly have a fearsome bite, so we leave well alone and continue along the path to the pool.

Along the route we stop in our own ragged cluster to seek out a violet turaco, hiding somewhere in the canopy. The thickening air is pierced occasionally by the bird’s gutteral call, and as it hops from branch to liana we try to fix on its movements. The profusion of growth around us is extraordinary – the sheer abundance of life, the riot of things, filling every available space. The canopy is one thing, but it’s down here at eye level and beneath that’s the most boggling: a labyrinth of entwined lianas and branches with huge buttressed hardwood trees rising from the meshed swarm of roots. There are breaks in this debauch of life, pockets of colder air where the massive concrete bunkers of termite mounds stand like centuries old sentinels. Yet even these conceal a frenzy of hyperactivity, worker termites at the coalface, keeping the place cool enough for her – lying at the refrigerated heart of things, sometimes up to 50 years old…

African Darter, Abuko pond (image by Chris Packham).

The pool when we get there, is quite a prospect – compact and surrounded on three sides by lush greenery; and perfect for watching birds – partly because of the natural stage set up, and partly thanks to the presence of a rickety two-storey hide from where you can observe the higher reaches of the distant palms. And so many birds, and so quickly… We see egrets, night herons, hornbills, wood hoopoes with young in the palms, a spectacular chestnut-breasted giant kingfisher (perched they are something, but in flight, oh my) barbets, a hammerkop, jacanas picking their way across the massive lily pads, just feet away from us, plus a dozen or so african darters, distant relatives of the cormorant, wings outstretched in the early morning sun. It’s an amazing sight, and so much to take in that you have to turn away occasionally to get some perspective. The group are scrabbling for their guide books (this extraordinary bible) (as an aside here, if Dave Allen ever offers you his guidebook, say no, probably best not to ask why – it’s to do with where he keeps it.), training their scopes or zoom lenses, off to my right someone is sketching the whole dazzling enterprise.

We do eventually tear ourselves away, and spend the next half hour or so on a weary walk to the rescue centre at the heart of Abuko. It’s HOT now, getting towards 35 degrees, and the heat lays across everything, puddling around your feet if you stand still for too long. We spot bee eaters in the tops of acacia trees, and the distant song of the bulbul, the only bird daft enough to still be active in this heat. We arrive at the rescue centre blistered and parched, to find an oasis selling cold drinks and small tubs of nuts to feed the resident vervet monkeys. Chris seems particularly adept at befriending them, getting a couple to leap for nuts held in an outstretched hand. The animals here are kept in good conditions, and there’s a true menagerie, ranging from red patas monkeys, through hyenas to a MASSIVE tortoise, that had dug herself an impressively deep hole to escape the heat. Something we could all have done with. Alas, we instead had to walk through the heat of the day back to the bus, air which seemed to congeal around us like a broiling active barrier. The stall holders at the entrance, when we finally arrived, seemed to regard us with sympathy and desultorily waved the odd carved owl at us and then, mercifully, left us alone.

Blue-cheeked bee eater at Abuko (image by Chris Packham).

That evening we went for the first of several walks across the fields that surround the Kotu stream. The area is legendary for the diversity of the bird life it supports, from a raft of kingfishers, to waders and even – on the more distant sewage ponds – a healthy number of whistling ducks. It is said (by Chris amongst others) that if you gave yourself a good run at it (say dawn till dusk) you might get to see 100 species from the bridge above the stream. One day, one day…

As we wound our way on the narrow paths that lace the fields around the stream, as well as looking at the numerous wood hoopoes and glossy starlings that graced the palms around us, and looking skywards for the kites and hooded vultures that rode the rolling levels, the first obstacle we had to negotiate was a herd of cows that very much wanted to get past us. Or rather we were the obstacle they had to tackle. As five became 10 became 40 or more, it was clear that this was no small herd either – mildly panicked laughter soon became shrieking alarm as the huge-horned beasts strove to get round us by any means possible. There was no malice, but that’s a ton of animal. With big bloody horns! Thankfully we managed to let them by without much more than the odd blush and booty from stepping into the sunken rice pits.

Belligerent companions on the path...

The sewage ponds, when we arrived were alive with activity. Now this may sound like a disgusting place to be spotting birds, but remarkably there is no evidence of sewage at all (save the odd brightly painted sewage truck), and the insect life is of such a density that it’s a natural spot for birds to congregate. There were squadrons of swifts flying low over the ponds, peeping patrols of stilts, plus massed ranks of creeping cattle egrets. I shall never think of sewage farms in quite the same way after seeing this fount of life.

A black-winged stilt prowls the pools... (image by Chris Packham).

Our final assignation was with the elusive painted snipe, a bird I was reliably informed was a ‘lifer’, the kind a true birder dreams of spotting. We’d crossed the road by now, and were on a ridge between the flats behind the Badala Park hotel. Malick had gone ahead to see if he could hear the muted call of the snipe, or spot its legendarily skulky lope as it picked for insects and grubs in the hard tufts of grass. See, the painted snipe, despite it’s name, isn’t exactly a colourful beastie, and has the perfect markings for hiding amidst grass and burnt soil; and it simply doesn’t want to be seen. So there we are, once again in our traditional (and by now exhausted) shabby column, all peeking through tired eyes, looking for a creature that has no wish to be spotted. Ocassionaly a faint cry of ‘there!’ would go up, only for the damp disappointed follow up of ‘no, it’s a coucal. Again’ to filter out. Malick was knee deep in grass by now, straining eyes and ears for the evasive wee creature but to no avail. We called off the search, promising to return another day, better armed and less exhausted.

Gambia Chris Packham tour – 2010

Posted on February 24, 2010 by Matt Smith

Chris spies a small bird in the middle distance

Well, I’ve recently returned from four fantastic days on the Chris Packham birding tour in The Gambia. We dragged ourselves through thorny acacias in forty degree heat – heat even the local owls avoided, skipped around marauding cattle in the lessening light of evening, and ran the gauntlet in the noisome charm of the fishing village at Tanji, and all this to get a look at some birds! But such birds: painted snipe, long-tailed nightjars, blue-bellied rollers, white-faced scops owls, splendid sunbirds… 148 species in total. 148. One might search for a lifetime in the UK and not get to that total; we managed it in four days.

I’ll publish some more detailed accounts of the trip over the next couple of weeks, for now here are just a couple of images to whet the appetite.