Northwest Nature Log Birding in the Spanish Pyrenees

Published 9:17 am Tuesday, August 18, 2015

It’s summer and vacation time for many. This is part of my travel journal from a birding trip to the Northern Pyrenees. I hope you enjoy it:

“Lammergier!” John shouted. We all spun around to look. There he was, a majestic vulture close to four feet long with a wingspan of almost eight feet, slowly pumping enormous wings to gain altitude. The bird had been on the ground perhaps 100 feet from us, hidden by a small hillock. As he beat away, he took a path parallel to us so that we had long looks at this tawny-dark giant with the long, wedge-shaped tail. The silvery peaks of the Spanish Pyrenees rose before us, the sky was deep blue, and alpine lilies grew at our feet. This is birding in the Pyrenees.

Friends in England had invited us to spend part of August celebrating a birthday by birding with them in Northern Spain. In early August we flew into Barcelona via Vienna. We spent a leisurely day and a half driving to Jaca, a resort town in the foothills of the Pyrenees. Jaca, a bustling ski village in winter, was our home base for the following week. This part of Spain looks a lot like Eastern Washington: high, dry, vast open spaces and few people.

The Pyrenees form the mountainous boundary between France to the north and Spain to the south. The tallest peak, Aneto, rises 3,404 meters (10,212 feet). Most of the 26 major peaks rise between 1,500 and 30,00 meters. Birds from the Mediterranean and Europe can be found in the Pyrenees and the nearby dry valleys and foothills. Although August is the quietest month for birds, we were not disappointed.

We were up early our first day. The hotel we stayed at offered a buffet breakfast, where we could select from cold meats, cheeses, local fruits, yoghurt and homemade bread. The best part was that the usual “elevator music” heard in the background of hotels everywhere was replaced by Leonard Cohen singing his darkest songs. Every morning. I happen to love Leonard Cohen, but others didn’t think so much of it.

On day one, the five of us agreed to go on a search for wallcreepers. This plucky little bird lives at altitude in hard to reach places in parts of Europe and Asia. We started on our way to locate the narrow, dark, dripping tunnel appropriately named Boca del Infierno, or Hell’s Mouth, that carries a small mountain road through a rocky gorge in the Pyrenees. This area in the northern Hecho Valley, about 50 km northwest of Jaca, is one of the best places in the Pyrenees to find a wallcreeper.

We had stopped along the quiet two-lane road to scope a booted eagle, a big raptor with long, densely feathered legs that resemble boots, when John had glimpsed the lammergeier from the corner of his eye. Our grins were a mile wide. As we celebrated both raptors with cookies and coffee, an elderly Basque gentleman stopped to chat. We were at least 15 kilometers from any town or settlement and he was out briskly walking, black beret cocked low over one eye. With a few English words and many smiles and gestures he let us know about the grey herons that fish in the nearby river and the vultures that feed on carcasses in the fields. These herons look a lot like our great blue herons. The Basque gentleman wished us well and continued on his long walk to somewhere.

As we made our way north through the Hecho Valley, we left open, sunny country behind. The air cooled at least 20 degrees and gray rock ravines plunged to an icy mountain stream that followed along our very narrow road. The rock was dotted with a curious alpine saxifrage that looks just like a pale green sea anemone.

By now the wind had picked up and a fine cold rain was sweeping down the narrow valley in soaking gusts. When we reached the dripping tunnel, the Boca del Infierno, we spaced ourselves along the ravine on each side and began a patient search for wallcreepers. Because they cling to the rock face, gleaning bugs, and are just about the same color as the rock, they can be a real challenge to see.

Since this is popular country for camping and hill walking, many people passed us in cars, on bicycles and on foot, always polite and sometimes curious about why we persistently scanned the high rock face across the road. Most of the hikers carried walking sticks and some of the men sang what sounded like arias in clear, robust voices as they walked. The songs, combined with the soft “clonk-bonk” of the large bells worn by the sheep in the area, were a hauntingly pleasant background.

We spent 40 wet, cold minutes looking for a wallcreeper. Our binocular lenses were wet and the fine, drifting rain settled on our clothes. A lunch break was in order.

We found a campground along a shallow mountain stream where we sat on the rocks among alpine Queen Anne’s lace, delicate pale blue campanula, tiny pinks nodding in the wind and mauve wild geranium. We had crusty local bread, cheese and a kind of salami, followed by a very local liquor obtainable in the nearby country stores. It was warming and delicious but we knew we’d never find a wallcreeper unless we only sipped!

Back to wallcreeper country. There was so much ravine, so many rocky escarpments to search for this small gray and red bird. The rough cliffs disappeared into the clouds on every side. We spread out again on each end of the tunnel, ready for a long search.

Suddenly an urgent, echoing holler came from the other side of the tunnel. Wallcreeper! Hurry! Two of us ran full speed, scopes tilting and bins bouncing, darting through tunnel traffic. We couldn’t miss this elusive little guy.

He was surprisingly easy to see, feeding along a rocky face across the ravine. Although related to the nuthatch, this is a bigger bird, about the size of our robin. He was creeping along the rock face, gleaning insects from crevices and alpine plants. He was a rather drab dark gray until he spread his wings to move to an adjacent area: lovely “broad, round wings, gaudily marked with red, black and white above” as described in our damp copy of “Birds of Europe.” That little bird with the brilliant red and white wings was like a little fire on the crags. At one point he flew to the rocks just above us, giving an excellent view of his black throat and breast.

We were all grinning like fools in a 20 mph wind and horizontal rain. Lammergeier and wallcreeper — and it was still early afternoon! We treated ourselves to another generous sip of the local hootch.

Stay tuned for further adventures in Northern Spain.