LBJs of Poland by Sarah Anderson

I wouldn’t have put bird watching in Poland at the top of my list of yet-to-be-tried holidays, but somehow or other I found myself inexorably drawn into going. And I loved it. We flew to Warsaw where we were met by Les Goddin, an Englishman who runs Birds Poland, and his excellent local guide Henryk Sulek. Les was somewhat disconcerted on the bus when he discovered that two of us had never been ‘birding’ before but since we amateurs were keen and showed willing we were quickly accepted. I had never knowingly been with ‘birders’ but if they are all as generous with their knowledge and patience as our group was to us – they are a nice crowd – obsessive – yes – but agreeable with it.

My first attempt at trying to see a thrush nightingale by the Narew River was marred by my inability to use my binoculars properly. I did finally spot it after having been given painstaking instructions and it was thrilling. Although my ability to detect birds improved markedly over the week I never ceased to marvel at the skill shown by true birders to locate a small brown object in a distant tree and to identify it by its markings or its call. The group comprised three scientists, an ecologist, a doctor, an historian and a gardener and between them they had three telescopes which I quickly learned to refer to as “ ‘scopes”. These amazingly heavy instruments were carted around wherever we went, but once the bird was seen in the ‘scope, my companions would always ask if I’d like to have a look – even though I never once offered to carry it.

One of the disadvantages of evening strolls were the mosquitoes – 28 types have been noted. I had taken a net to cover my head – initially much-mocked it soon be came an object of envy, as did the stool I carried around. After leaving Nowogrod on the Narew River we went north-east to Goniadz in the Biebrza National Park. On the flood plain near Wizna where as well as waterfowl and terns we saw many raptors including marsh harriers, hen harriers, montagu harriers, hobbies and buzzards, there were several what I discovered to be typical shorthand ‘birding’ conversations: “A female”. “No, a male”. “Definitely a female”. And, so that no-one need lose face, “It must be two birds we’re seeing.”

We had each been issued with check lists and every evening I ticked what I’d seen or been helped to see. This nightly routine was extremely competitive – some people ticked birds they had only heard – I did find this aspect somewhat depressing - it reminded me of what tourism can be like. Things are not enjoyed for what they are but for what they represent in terms of tick marks. What was reassuring about Henryk, our guide, was that he knew what each bird ate and about their habitats as well as being a competent natural historian. At one hide we stopped at we saw several red deer and in the distance a crane ‘displaying’ and ruff lekking – which somewhat made up for our disappointment at not seeing the great snipe lek at dusk. Clouds of mosquitoes surrounded us and even managed to bite through clothes covered in DEET as we sat by the river waiting for what was meant to be a spectacular show of great snipe lekking. Nothing happened – we had apparently missed the annual lek by a few days.

Each day there seemed to be something special that we saw or heard: the aquatic warbler, a citrine wagtail, a rosefinch, a penduline tit flying in and out of its nest or a bittern booming. Initially when I shouted ‘bird’ from the bus – it would, embarrassingly, often turn out to be a sparrow or swallow but gradually as we got closer to the Belarus border I became more discerning. However when I saw the great reed warbler’s nest before anyone else I couldn’t get anyone enthused, and I wondered whether this was to do with competition (and my not being an authentic birder) or the fact that nests were not on the check list. Many of the best ‘birding’ sites were in relatively ugly locations – by pumping stations or railway lines and I soon realized that the locality was immaterial to my fellow travellers. Whereas I thoroughly enjoyed seeing birds as part of the landscape – the landscape was as important to me as the birds in it.

This part of Poland is very flat and very rural – many of the farms seemed to consist of one man leading a horse and plough up and down a tiny area, a few fruit trees covered with blossom and a quantity of abandoned bee hives. We passed one man riding a bicycle which was attached to three cows – its hard to imagine how the Poles will cope with EU regulations. The older houses are wooden but the newer ones are made of concrete and corrugated iron. Churches are a mixture of Roman and Orthodox and the many roadside crucifixes are festooned with coloured ribbons.

Bialowieza was extremely close to what had been the Russian border – the Tsar built a station, now derelict, at Bialowieza Towarowa which he used when he came on hunting parties. We came across an abandoned border post deep in the forest – or rather there was rusty barbed wire on the Polish side but ominously there was newly raked sand on the Belarus side.

Looking for the tiny (4½”) pygmy owl in the dark was a surreal experience – the moment we arrived we heard it whistle and the guide answered with a superb imitation of its sound. He said he was trying to ‘whistle it into a tree nearby’ – but within minutes most of the group were whistling too and understandably the no-doubt extremely confused owl had fled.

The strict reserve area of the Bialowieza forest has been a Unesco World Heritage site since 1979. This part of the primeval forest has never been touched and contains twenty six species of trees – both deciduous and coniferous; allegedly someone killed fifty six mosquitoes with one swipe here although I’m not sure whether this was adhering to the strict forest policy of nothing being killed or moved. It is far harder to see birds in a forest than in an open space even though this was a particularly light and unthreatening forest, but the bird sounds seem magnified.

I was ambling along when suddenly there was great excitement ahead – a great grey owl flew across the path and into the trees; our guide told us all to stay on the path while he went to try and find it. Several minutes later he beckoned us in and there, about twenty yards away, was the owl sitting on the branch of a tree. Great grey owls, mostly seen in Scandinavia and northern Russia, are extremely rare in Poland – one had been seen in this forest in the early 1980’s and not again until the previous week. It was thrilling to see this huge bird (about 2 feet 6 inches high with a wing span of over 5 feet) sitting for at least five minutes so close to us. Everyone, including the two guides who were also seeing it for the first time, was elated.

Eccentric – yes; different – yes; but definitely an enjoyable week during which 147 different bird species were sighted by the experts – 95 by me; however I don’t think I’ll be seen heaving a telescope around or sitting motionless surrounded by mosquitoes too often.