Why Rockfowl ?
I’m not sure where I first heard about the Picathartes or rockfowl, a remarkable pair of species that live either side of the Dahomey Gap in West Africa. Somewhere in my subconcious are images from early Zoo Quest, films and memories of Gerald Durrell’s undeniably funny tale of his search just to see one.
As birding took over my life from the early 1980’s, I followed the then, usual circuit, Britain, Europe, the Middle East and then in at the deep end, West Africa. At the time I was working as a conservation education officer at Twycross Zoo and had access to literally thousands of obscure publications. In amongst the files I found the first colour photographs I’d ever seen of a Grey-necked Picathartes.
It was glorious and made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, I had to see one. In 1988 an opportunity arose with Birdlife International to help with a project being set up in the Bamenda Highlands in Cameroon, land of rockfowl, my quest had begun.I visited Mount Cameroon, a traditional site, found a guide who swore he knew the bird “Dat beef like stony place” he informed whilst studying the picture. Twenty four hours later, having been lost up lava flows, bewitched by voodoo and having roughed it overnight, we cut our way out, and he announced with all the calm in the world that they were easier to find on the beach! I moved on.
Expeditions into Korup produced old nests and bad hangovers, the local “Boom-boom” brewed to maximum strength. Mount Kupe changed my life for although I glimpsed it, it wasn’t enough. The mountain, protected only by a spiritual taboo was so majestic, mysterious and downright fascinating, I vowed to come back. In 1990 I returned with an expedition to determine the status of the Mount Kupe Bush-shrike and other red data book species including picathartes. During the next three months we scoured the mountain in search of goodies.
Picathartes was certainly elusive, the locals knew it for it survived spring snares set for bushmeat. “He got very strong feet” one toothless old hunter enthused. We found old nests on cathedral like outcrops, surveyed darkened caves with trepidation and descended valley bottoms occasionally scaring ourselves silly as night fell in viper country. Eventually we found a site we felt sure was active. Peering into the gloom something moved, a willowy shape at the back of the cave, only the paleness of belly visible.
I moved away and sat partially hidden against a buttress root to wait and see what came out. A loud fearsome hiss from behind made my stomach weak and mind race, I was sure I was about to be nailed by a gaboon viper. Turning to face my assailant I was confronted by a near apparition, for not six feet away was the most glorious thing I’d ever seen.
Sporting a fluorescent blue and red bare skinned bonnet set off by bare skinned black facial triangles, white moustache and lemon yellow belly sat an inquisitive rockfowl, hissing. For a couple of minutes I faced my quest in absolute awe and then in a move more akin to zebedee it literally sprang away.
I have been back many times to Cameroon, often leading birding groups whose main priority is seeing this, my favourite bird. No matter how many times I see it, I’m always left with that feeling, perhaps selfish, of wanting more. Anyone who has seen it will tell you the same. An enigmatic bird, incredibly difficult to see when away from its granite cathedrals and often frustratingly elusive when in residence, generally early morning and early evening.
The call, often the first sign is a bizarre drawn out hiss, they fly well but prefer to bounce and build cup shaped nests of mud on ancient walls, often just to sleep in!
Often the views are of a shadowy shape moving around in the darkest corners, watching and listening, seemingly always aware of your presence. When they do emerge from the gloom, the bright glow of colour emanating from the head hits you like a lightning bold, they are truly magnificent birds.
I don’t think I’ve ever quite managed to capture what I see as the true spirit of this ‘willow the wisp’, despite painting them many times.
