Twitchy In Zimbabwe

A birding safari into the eastern regions of Zimbabwe dials up extraordinary landscapes, lots of bird sightings and some of the best tea on the planet

- Stephen Smith

A log crumbles. Sparks fly, drifting up in the breeze and disappearing into the sunset. The sun continues its descent into darkness, gently sliding behind the horizon; its colours reflect off the river, with the burnt-oranges merging with the campfire. A pearl-spotted owlet has already started to call, a ‘Tu-tu-tu-tutu. Tu-tu-tseeutseeu-tseeu-tseeu.’ My mate Greg pauses from his fire-stoking. “What’s that? I know it.” He repeats the call and the owl responds. Pretty soon it’s closer, calling frenetically. “It’s a pearl-spotted owl,” he says. Then he tells me a story about why he remembers that particular call. And that strikes a chord with me.

Birds are memories. Seeing them, hearing them – they steal a spot in your mind. I can’t remember who was in my class at school, I forget people’s names all the time, I can’t recall the… I forgot what I was going to say there…. But places and birds are intrinsically linked in my mind. The sight of a bird transports me back to a place, and revisiting a place reminds me of a special bird sighting. If you ask me about my wedding, I’ll probably start by telling you about the secretary bird that circled over us as my wife and I said our vows. The mention of a green twinspot brings my late dad immediately to mind, and the many trips we made as a family in search of this elusive little bugger. He eventually did see one, but I’m still looking.

These days I don’t go birdwatching. I still carry binoculars when I fish or hike, and I still keep an eye open for green twinspots, but I don’t actively pursue ‘ticks’ for my bird list.

But a trip to eastern Zimbabwe reawakened my twitchiness, reminding me of the joy of discovering the unfamiliar, of gathering a few more notches on the birdwatching belt, and learning from masters of the trade.

En route via Kruger