Monday 17th November 2025. I’m in celebratory mood, with good cause I fancy. Let me explain. As mentioned in a previous post, the chief reason for coming to Samburu was to try and find a Somali Bee-eater. This is the only area in Kenya that this species can be encountered, indeed it represents the only accessibly safe area in the birds range. Our guide was well aware of this quest and over three drives around the park we explored many different areas but drew a blank. Of course there were many fantastic encounters with other birds and animals, too numerous to relate, all of which were amazing, yet still the target bird eluded us. Yesterday afternoon for example, we drove slowly over miles of scrub, grassland and riverine habitat without as much as a sniff of a bee-eater. We scrutinised every twig, branch, dead stump, prominent rock and hanging frond without success. We saw sandgrouse, spurfowl, mousebirds aplenty and shrikes. We marvelled at eagles, buzzards and barbets. We enjoyed a spectacular sunset which turned the surrounding hills into vividly green tableaus split through with clouds rimmed with gold. But no bee-eater.
This morning the same story, lots of wonderful sightings including a herd of elephants that passed within touching distance, but of our quarry no sign. I think myself and our guide realised almost simultaneously that we were looking in the wrong places: the birds were simply not there. Nothing for it but to seek local expertise. This made sense because if somebody was looking for, say, a Spotted Flycatcher at Strumpshaw back home I would instantly direct them to the (only) likely spot. No guarantees, but the only chance you’ll get. So it was here, we drove to the Warden’s abode next to the entrance gate, told him our woes and he directed us to where we couldn’t fail (heard that before) to bump into the tiny little bird we were seeking. From unreasonable, self indulgent despair to something resembling hope took hold of my psyche. And off we drove.
Half an hour later and we entered Shaba National Reserve which instantly seemed more bee-eater friendly. It was barren, arid and just had the right feel. A flitting away to our left, bee-eaters, could this be it? We drove closer and scrutinised these hopefuls through binoculars. Hmmm, nope they’re Little Bee-eaters, an adult and youngster, lovely little things in their own right, but today eliciting a quiet ‘damn’ from your author. Unreasonable, unappreciative and unworthy, but I simply tell the truth.
We moved on to a really dry patch of scattered rocky scree and pumice dotted with stunted acacia. ‘What’s that little bird on top of the bare bush?’ Queried Denise. Steve was already on it and as soon as I trained my binoculars we both said ‘YES!’. And there you have it ladies and gentlemen, two hardened old birders having spent 9 hours hard labour without success, and the eagle eyed lady of the trio finds the bird. It didn’t matter because we’d got it at last. Thousands of miles from home, hundreds of miles hard driving over pot holed roads, sweat, insect bites, stomach turned inside out and upside down, brains rattling in our skulls from driving over rocky tracks and we got it, a lovely, lovely Somali Bee-eater. A prize worthy of a celebratory beer I hope you agree. Anyway Cheers!
I crept as close as I dared without risking spooking the bird to obtain the video and the shots below.
