Grand Kenyan Roadtrip - Part 1 The Coast
- Dominic Cormier
- Mar 16
- 16 min read
Updated: Aug 27
Two old friends in need of a throwback to more simple times. That was the essence of our 25-day birding extravaganza through Kenya. Leaving the damp cold of late March in Halifax, 24 hours later I stepped out under a warm cloudy night sky in Nairobi to be greeted by Tim in his trusty Nissan X-trail, our birding vessel for most of the trip through mountains, grasslands, forests, and more!
Day 1 - March 30
With hardly a wink of sleep, we zipped through the city in the early morning hours to Nairobi NP on the outskirts of town. We wanted to start the trip off with a proper haul of birds and wildlife, and to provide Angela (Tim's sister) one last safari before her return to Canada after a month-long kenyan stay. Knowing the park well, Tim deftly navigated us around the variety of grassland, wetland, and forested habitats, while Angela and I stuck our bodies out of the sunroof in proper safari-style. But for a brief delay due to some recalcitrant rhinos blocking the road, the birds and wildlife flowed fast and thick. I had missed Nairobi NP on my last visit, and the lifers came at us in stunning fashion. A hollering Shelley's Francolin at point blank range, and Short-tailed Larks covering the black dirt with Red-throated Pipits among them. Yellow-necked Spurfowl flushing here and there, and mittfuls of cisticolas of all sorts kept me sharp. Pagani Longclaw, Sulphur-breasted Bushshrike, Black-faced Waxbill, Red-throated Tit, White-backed Night Heron, and Hartlaub's Bustard all added to the dizzying array of 177 species by days end. We could have added 15 or more to that tally had we tweaked the plan slightly. What a big day! Despite being slightly delirious from lack of sleep and the day's birding rage, I was supremely content to be back in the saddle on a hardcore birding adventure!
Day 2 - March 31
The entire trip plan was ambitious, including a very early flight to the coast for the next 6 days. After another all too brief sleep, I wondered if perhaps it was a little too ambitious. As the expansive scrubland of Tsavo East NP passed far below the plane, we were soon landing on the coast in Malindi and the doubts were gone. With little trouble getting our rental vehicle, albeit with a birder surcharge in anticipation of where we may take the vehicle, we jetted up the coast to the Sabaki River estuary. The next 3 hours were one those rare moments in life of pure bliss. The river emptying into the Indian Ocean creates rich tidal mudflats that teem with birdlife. With bare feet sinking in the sandy mud and rejuvenating our souls, we enjoyed a dazzling array of terns, flamingos and shorebirds. The stars of the show were two Broad-billed Sandpipers in breeding plumage. From my first ebullient cries of "I got it!" we could not get enough of these beauties. As the bright sun was occasionally pierced by fast moving thunder clouds rolling in from the ocean, we drank our fill of this magical place.
Most birding groups do not venture north of the Sabaki River, content to bird the amazing Arabuko-Sokoke Forest just south of Malindi. We would make the birding pilgrimage to Arabuko-Sokoke in the coming days, but first we turned north to the Tana River, and the Tana River Primate Reserve. Tens of thousands of years ago, lowland tropical rainforest covered all the coastal lands of Kenya. It is now a mix of dry woodland and open savannah, but there remains a sliver of ancient rainforest along the banks of the lower Tana River, a green oasis in the dry landscape. Here are found two of the world's rarest primates, the Tana River Crested Mangabey, and the Tana River Red Colobus. Found only in this riparian forest, they cling to existence in an ever changing world.
As we drove northwest through the scarcely populated country, the muted tones of the landscape were pierced by the vibrant blue of Vulturine Guineafowls gathering in large numbers along the roadside, and the colourful hues of Lilac-breasted and European Rollers. With the highway basically deserted, we had no trouble pulling off and getting amazing views of a few Buff-crested Bustards as well. Eurasian Hobbies were moving northward for the entirety of our trip, and we spotted many during the drive, along with an Amur Falcon.
Arriving at the reserve's ranger station by early evening, the plan was to camp among the towering trees of river's edge. Recent rains had made the tracks too muddy for that evening, so we set up our tent in the scrubland on the grounds of the station. Making payment arrangements with the park staff and setting up our tent proved rather difficult, as a flurry of bird activity in the scrub kept us bouncing around for one good bird after another. We lucked into a pair of Grayish Eagle-Owls a stone's throw from the main office, and a pair of sunbirds seemed like good candidates for the highly local and scarce Violet-breasted Sunbird. Trying to get a good picture of the iridescent throat patch as the bird worked the thorny shrubs in fading light proved challenging, but in the end, my burgeoning bird photography skills proved up to the task. As hundreds of Barn Swallows swirled about, soon leaving for more northerly haunts, the sun set on what felt like a lifetimes worth of birding. We ended the day with a whole cavalcade of park rangers watching Arsenal and City play to a dreary 0-0 draw on the compound's lone TV, before retiring to our tent for a much needed rest.
Day 3 - April 1
Today was a veritable blur. We started early and drove to the river's edge. The thorny woodland yielded a few gems like Golden Pipit, Golden-breasted Starling, and Von der Decken's and Trumpeter Hornbills. Once inside the towering riparian forest, we set to work looking for the rare primates. The colobus was easy enough, along with Syke's and Vervet monkeys high in the trees, occasionally calling and making a ruckus. The mangabey required more effort. Weaving through the understory, we eventually got amazing looks at the mangabeys, crouched as we were peering through the forest. Observing birds, even rare or elusive ones, I rarely struggle to understand or describe how I feel. However, watching the mangabeys, I did no feel any such clarity. A mix of awe, melancholy, curiosity, sadness, and delight all mingle together into an opaque soup. Perhaps one needs a whole lifetime of observing and studying primates to understand and connect with our closest living relatives.
Birdwise, I was a bit out of my depth in the thin strip of forest. Separated at times from Tim as we wandered here and there, I did luck into a few goodies, though undoubtedly missed a few. The most spectacular of the lot was Fischer's Turaco. No birder is unmoved when they set their sights on a Turaco. Like gaudy and colorful monkeys of the bird world, they stalk fruiting trees, bounding up branch and limb devouring fruits at will. Of course, they can be elusive and still when needs be, and it was no cakewalk getting good looks at them high in the treetops.
Every good birding trip needs at least one 'fuck it, let's do it' type of outing. Today was that day, arranging a boat ride on the Tana River. Inspired by the legendary Victor who ventured on those waters and came away with a Pel's Fishing Owl, we fancied our chances as well! Renting a sputtering motorized canoe from some Christian missionaries to ply hippo invested waters in the blazing heat of the day seemed like a good idea at the time, though in hindsight, hardly the common scenario to look for an epic owl! Lathering on the sunscreen, the sun beat down as large mango trees drifted by. It took a while to get to the good forest from the boat launch, and reiterated how little of this precious habitat exists. At least the mango trees are large and provide canopy cover. While the banks of the river yielded many Brown-hooded Kingfishers, usurpingly no owl; nothing ventured nothing gained I suppose!
Leaving the river behind, we trekked back south towards the little hamlet of Marafa, where we hoped to explore the Dakatcha Woodlands the following day. Knowing Tim would not last much longer doing all the driving, it was time for me to break the ice and get behind the wheel. While driving in Kenya seems like complete anarchy to those raised on the Canadian ways of driving, there is a method to the madness. I quickly adapted to the frenetic bustle of cars, motos, people, bikes, carts and animals. What I did not adapt to was the sweltering heat of our cheap hotel room in Marafa. In all my travels, I have never slept in such a stifling room. I must have lost 10 pounds of water weight that night, and was supremely glad when we woke well before dawn and the relief of the fresh morning air!
Day 4 - April 2
For Tim, long in the ways of birding Kenya and other parts of East Africa, there were few lifers left in this part of the world. While I anticipated getting somewhere around 250 lifers, Tim's possibilities were 10 or so lifers and a few additional Kenyan birds. As such, today was long circled on Tim's calendar; we hoped to see not one, but three new birds for Tim, including a most sought after African Barred Owlet. Common in parts of southern Africa, it is range restricted in Kenya, and a journey to the miombo woodlands of the Dakatcha region is your best bet. Tim was practically frothing with anticipation as we picked up our guide Julius, and navigated through narrow farm tracks in the dark, arriving at the Kibaoni Nature Preserve with the sun just beginning to light the way. Wandering into the trackless woodland, owlet calls rang out from many directions. Try as we may, we failed to get eyes on the diminutive beasts before the calls ceased with the rising sun. As we turned our attention to the songbirds of the region, an inner turmoil was brewing inside Tim. How would we rearrange the coming days to try again for the owl. Turmoil aside, it was a pleasant morning and my lifers flowed: Northern Red-fronted Tinkerbird, roving flocks of Chestnut-fronted and Retz's Helmetshrikes, Grey-headed Bushshrike, Fiery-necked Nightjar, and Lizzard Buzzard. The songs of boubous mingled with the songs of Eastern Nicators and others that I was just beginning to learn. Trying to keep all the songs straight, I was urgently called from my wanderings. They had an owlet! Panic scanning of the shrubbery ensued as Tim, shaking with exhilaration, attempted a clear view of the bird as it was barely visible through the foliage. After much shuffling and craning of necks, we mercifully obtained clear views of the owlet before it had enough of our presence and vanished into the surrounding woodland. Had Tim not obtained an unobstructed view of the beast, I fear I would have been carrying him out of the woodland, his spirit irreparably damaged from the disappointment.
Elated by the encounter, thoughts turned to one of Kenya's most enigmatic species, the Kilifi Weaver. Endemic to woodlands of coastal Kenya, this forest weaver nests sporadically in small seasonal wetlands. Nearby Bore wetland was a known breeding spot, but Julius warned us the water levels were still too low. The lush sedge beds they use as nest sites were not at sufficient heights to draw the weavers from their nomadic forest weaving ways, though months before, it had teemed with nesting weavers. Nonetheless, with blind faith we wanted to try. Afterall, we only needed one. While I picked up a few more lifers in the scrubby environs, it was rather quiet at the wetland. Tim even settled under the shade of a small tree and fell asleep. The burning rage of the owlet had faded, and the pace of a long school year and our trip was leaving its mark. I eventually roused Tim, for even though I felt the same fatigue, lifers awaited me around every turn, and I was not done yet.
Driving out was rather difficult. We had come down on a barely passable sandy track, and now returned uphill in the soft sand, navigating sprawling chasms along the way. Even the hardiest offroader here in Canada would think twice on that road. Clearly, the birder surcharge had been justified. Today, and practically ever day of our trip, made me realize how even the most basic vehicle can navigate difficult terrain if handled with care and skill. Back on firmer ground, we returned to Kibaoni to try once more for the weaver and others. Soon we had the second of Tim's lifers, the Black-collared Barbet. His spirit was renewed! African Black-headed Orioles, and both European and African Golden Orioles splashed yellow as we sought in vain the third target, the Thick-billed Cuckoo. In searching, I enjoyed a steady stream of lifers in the forms of Bearded Woodpecker, Scaly Babbler, and more. Feeling the day drawing to a close, though only slightly after noon, we followed Julius through the woodland to the car. As the land sloped downward and then upward, I knew we had taken a wrong turn in the wooded maze. Julius soon realized this as well, and it took an hour of course correcting to eventually loop back to the vehicle. A longer walk than expected, but at least we enjoyed more of the raucous helmetshrikes, and prolonged the search for the elusive Kilifi Weaver.
Parting ways with Julius, it was back to the hustle and bustle of Malindi. This tourist town on the shores of the Indian Ocean would provide a base to explore the Arabuko-Sokoke Forest for the next three days, and a little rest and relaxation; there is not much of that on birding trip with Tim. Typically frugal, we treated ourselves by staying at 4-star coastal resort! Not bad for a birding trip! In truth, frugality was still part of the equation, as this luxurious space was enjoyed for less than a hundred dollars Canadian a night, including full board at their top notch buffet and restaurant. Washing off the grim of the past few days with a few laps of the pool and my first dip in the waters of the Indian Ocean, I exhaled deeply, letting go of the emotional burdens so often tethering me to the past. Feasted, clean, and comfortable in our air conditioned room, our thoughts turned to the following day and the salivating prospects of the Arabuko-Sokoke forest.
Day 5 - April 3
Once sweeping from Somalia to Mozambique, the mature Brachystegia dominated forests of the coast have been carved up and degraded. One of the last remains is the mighty Arabuko-Sokoke Forest. If all were free to travel at will, the forest would be a necessary pilgrimage. Home to a stunning array of endemic flora and fauna, the birder's chief delights are the Sokoke Scops Owl, the Sokoke Pipit, and if luck is at hand, the Kilifi Weaver. If those three don't cooperate, there is an array of helmetshrikes, barbets, tinkerbirds, weavers, sunbirds, starlings, and turacos to keep even the most twitchy of birders satiated.
At 8 am, we met up with our guide Kalama at the forest gates. We stole a bit of extra rest that previous days had not allowed, and arrived eager and ready for a days birding. Once near mythical, local guides, led by the late great David Ngala, learned of the owls' ways, and now lead travellers from afar into the forest to find these precious owls at their day roosts. Penetrating into the forest along narrow but well maintained forest roads, we were soon spotting some targets, including Amani Sunbird, Green Barbet, Fischer's Greenbul, and East Coast Akalat. A Four-colored Bushshrike vocalizing from the brush had us doing contortions to get a glimpse. Good thing I have been doing my yoga! I don't recall every superlative that Tim used to describe the Four-colored Bushshrike, but it would make even the most stoic person blush were it describing them.
While the industrious Kalama checked a few potential owl roosts deep in the forest, Tim an I enjoyed a Green-backed Twinspot while we waited for him to remerge. After a fourth foray, Kalama returned with good news. Two owls were roosting not far. Through the gloom and tangles, we spied the diminutive birds in all their glory! Relatively unperturbed, we nonetheless didn't push our luck getting too close. The morning was a resounding success, and we rested in the mid-afternoon, leaving the Sokoke Pipit for the following morning.
Despite the beckoning 4-star resort, we weren't yet ready to lounge at ease. Rested enough, it was off to the Elephant Swamp at the forest's edge. Evening is an enticing time as Elephants come to drink before going on their way in the deep forest. The swamp and surrounding meadows also host the endemic Malindi Pipit. Unlike their forest-dwelling and strongly marked cousin the Sokoke Pipit, the Malindi Pipit is a more typical example of the family; Streaky plain brown inhabitant of open country, barely distinguishable from the common African Pipit. After a false alarm with the aforementioned African Pipit, we had some with stouter bills and legs; Malinidi Pipits, no doubt! Perched on a small hill overlooking the swamp, we enjoyed the comings and goings of African Fish Eagles, Palm Nut Vultures, Yellow-billed Egrets and more. Other people began to gather in hopes of spotting elephants, but we remained on constant vigil for our winged friends. As a group of Barn Swallows passed overhead, we spotted an interloper amongst the group. Brownish in body, and classic martin shaped, the heavy streaked underparts were hard to miss. We were left gaping. We had just seen a Mascarene Martin! A little understood bird of Madagascar, it is known to irrupt up the coast in June through August. There were no previous April records in Kenya, so not a bird on our radar. Interestingly, one was photographed later in April, making that two April records for Kenya, and only 5 April records for mainland Africa.
With the shadows lengthening, and the Elephants not appearing, the other onlookers started to get squirrely. We were happy to assuage their restlessness with scope views of some of the birds and a Nile Monitor. To the sounds of Verreaux's Eagle Owl, we ended our swamp vigil after another amazing day, and gave a group of Mallorcans a well received free ride back into town.
Day 5 - April 4
Returning to the forest early for the Sokoke Pipit, we wanted to be the first on the footpaths to ensure no one else sent the forest-floor dwelling pipits scurrying away. We needn't have worried, as two were creeping amongst the leaf litter, and remained in view when two more birding groups arrived shortly after. Putting my yoga skills to use once again, we shuffled and crawled along the floor to enjoy this most outrageous of pipits, a boldly patterned bird in dense forest, all very un-pipit like. I suspect no other pipit will be as stunning and interesting, though I will be happy if proved wrong on this account. With the pipit melting away into the forest, I finally glimpsed the even more outrageous Golden-rumped elephant shrew. This endangered endemic mammal needs to be seen to be believed! Like a shrew inflated to the size of a small rabbit, they scurry along the forest, rumps shining, protruding snouts taking in the world around them. After the excitement of the pipit and elephant shrew, we were nonetheless happy to spot a few more regional targets, both the Pale Batis and Plain-backed Sunbird both with nests!
A top-notch bird deserves a top-notch lunch, and the prospect of coconut fish at nearby Mida Creek, which also hosts a dizzying array of shorebirds when the tide is right, made it a no brainer for the afternoon. Arriving at the fish hut by the ocean, we were soon enjoying our delicious meal. Just as our thirst was quenched by the sweet coconut water, so too would our birding souls be quenched by the dizzying array of shorebirds coming ever closer with the incoming tide. Much like at Sabaki, yet another afternoon of shorebirding was past in utter bliss. The rich mudflats of the creek mouth teemed with thousands of shorebirds even as the seasonal rains fell steady and we scoped from a blind perched on stilts at the edge of the mangroves. The monotypic Crab-Plover dazzled the senses amongst thousands of Tibetan Sand-Plovers, Greater Sand-Plovers, Little Stints, Terek Sandpipers, and Curlew Sandpipers. A scarce Eurasian Curlew amongst some Whimbrel, and three Bar-tailed Godwits kept us on our toes. All the particles in my body were gyrating, illustrating that all matter is indeed both a particle and a wave. With one half-hearted attempt for Collared Palm-Thrush on our way out, I reflected on the day. Between the food and birds, it was an exercise in gluttony of the best kind. We even scored some local Sokoke honey at Mida Creek, a delight for a honey fiend like me.
Day 6 - April 5
Green, green, green, the colour of the Green Tinkerbird, the Green Malkoha, and the Green-backed Woodpecker: lifers awaiting me in the Arabuko-Sokoke forest. However, many more remained back in the woodlands of Dakatcha, and somewhere in the vast region, the wandering Kilifi Weavers, not yet ready to nest. It was decided the previous night to forgo the forest for a third morning, and meet back up with Julius to have another crack at Dakatcha and its many unexplored ways. The road felt less long in the early light of day compared with the dark of the drive three nights ago. We made it to the bridge outside of Marafa by 7:10 with hopes of spotting the Brown-headed Parrot coming for a drink. This would be a Kenya bird for Tim, and Julius was confident we would succeed. After a while, we got antsy waiting, and started wandering the riparian area of the small river. Much to our surprise, up popped a Dwarf Bittern! A stunning small bittern of slate blue, these birds are nomadic, coming to parts of Kenya where seasonal rains green vegetation, and fill dry pools and streams. With no sign of the parrot, Julius remained confident, and led us to a nearby farming area. At once, we heard the raucous cries of a psittacine from large shade trees. With craned necks, we spotted one happily eating fruits in the canopy. Sliding to an outstretched branch, we got it in full sun before it took off.
With the bittern and parrot already highlights of the morning, we decided to try another wetland where the weavers are known to breed. We knew the birds were not breeding, yet we stubbornly held hope that they could be found nearby; blind faith once again! As we set off to Kamale, I realized we agreed to quite the trek. Roads, slick from the previous night's rain, had us weaving between trench and ridge, while dodging others coming and going from the far flung hamlets of the countryside. Eventually hitting dry roads, it was nonetheless slow going. Roughly 30 kms from the parrot spot to the wetland as the weaver flies, it took us more than 2 hours before we were birding habitat appealing to a weaver. As the late morning wore on, I had some joy with my lifer Red-headed Weaver, Eastern Black-headed Batis, and Mouse-colored Sunbird. We enjoyed better looks at Sulphur-breasted Bushshrike, Grey-headed Bushshrike and Eastern Nicator, but no sign of the weavers. With a long road back, we gave up the pursuit. It was a joyous, and yet slightly unsated duo that made it back to the Malindi airport that afternoon for our flight back to Nairobi. The Kilifi Weaver would have to wait for another time, if ever such a time comes again in my life.
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