Local patches

Parkland beside the Guadiana River in Mérida (Martin Kelsey)
The sting at the tail of this long dry summer is merciless. There is no respite from the prolonged drought or the heat of the day. The rustic fatalism of rural communities means that in every encounter I have with neighbours or passers-by the conversation is framed by the parched, dustbowl of the plains or the shrivelled olives foretelling a disasterous harvest. People are forlorn: longing for the wave of autumn rains which remain stubbornly at bay. Signs of hope are remote - it moved me to find fresh flowering Merenderas, pink splays of petals, drawing on moisture stored in their bulbs, casting early morning shadows across the dust, as seemingly lifeless as the surface of the Moon.

Merendera (Martin Kelsey)

But last week some solace was found in the environment of an urban park, right in the centre of our capital city, Mérida. We started at the magnificent two-thousand year-old Roman Bridge, spanning the Guadiana River,  the longest surving Roman bridge in the world. The river's name itself acts as a parenthesis to the Roman heritage: a composite word derived from the post-Roman Arabic word "wādī " meaning river, and a pre-Roman word "ana", also meaning river. Downstream on the western bank there is a strip of public park. Here watered lawns soothe the eyes and the clumps of ornamental trees offer pools of shade. It is an oasis in these times of drought. The riverbank is clothed by Typha reedmace. Across the park are playgrounds, paths and benches, refuge for the residents of the apartment blocks of the residential zones beyond.

David Lindo on his local patch, with friends (Martin Kelsey)

This green and watered land is refuge too for other denizens, a wonderful conglomeration of birds, attracted by the same elements as the people here: water, shade, the softness of foliage. The birds have places to forage in and rest. This is the local patch for my friend and colleague, the Urban Birder David Lindo. He lives just minutes from this park and when not working overseas, will stroll along the river bank here, downstream for a kilometre or so from the Roman Bridge. This is his beat, to reconnect after periods of absence to a local milieu, to track from day to day, week to week and month to month, the flux and change of the birdlife. Most birders have such haunts, a place where a such a depth of familiarity is achieved that in one's mind's eye each tree and bush can be visualised, regular perches for particular species recognised and one becomes driven by the anticipation of surprise and discovery. For many such birders, finding an addition to one's local patch list can be as exhilarating as seeing a bird for the first time ever. Despite only working this site for about three year's now, and with long absences abroad, David has already clocked up 115 species in this short stretch of parkland and riverside.

Migrant Pied Flycatcher in Mérida (Martin Kelsey)
As we strolled through the park, both Pied and Spotted Flycatchers were making use of the dappled shade to dart out on fly-catching sallies, Hoopoes probed in the luxury of recently watered turf, whilst Willow Warblers seemed to lurk in almost every corner. We stood and watched a migrant Tree Pipit as it sauntered in bouyant gait at the edge of tall grass. Bird on passage, stocking up their reserves prior to their trans-Saharan crossing are present across the region at the moment, but those who had paused to feed here struck me as especially privileged. It is very likely that many of these individuals will remember this oasis beside the Guadiana, amidst the streets, stone and concrete of the city and be here again in a year's time - to be watched again by the Urban Birder.

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