January 26 2020. Muscat, Oman. Curlews are one of those birds who are sometimes used as a literary device to set the mood of a place, usually to emphasize an empty, treeless land, remote and prone to dampness, mostly fog. I don’t think I’ve heard a curlew’s call in the wild but its long piercing whistles are supposed to raise the hairs on the back of your neck, – in the right setting of course. Other than a far off glimpse of curlews on the mudflats of the Rhine Estuary in Holland I don’t recall ever seeing one.
I didn’t come to Oman to see Curlews but after settling into my modest hotel I walked down to the beach, it was low tide and almost the first bird I saw was this Eurasian Curlew; striding purposefully and occasionally stopping to pull something long, squirming and impossible to consider delicious from deep in the wet sand. I was very happy to finally make its acquaintance and delighted that it had no fear of my presence. A good start to a short stay in a very welcoming culture.
It’s mid winter in the Northern Hemisphere and warm places like Oman are just the ticket for migrant birds (and people). The beach and other ocean-side places held lots of interest for me. Without wandering too far I found plenty that was somewhat familiar: Whimbrel, Black-headed Gulls and Common Sandpiper while others were completely new: Sooty Gull, Rose-collared Parakeet and Green Bee-eater.
This abundance of birds seems to be rather limited to coastal areas, for on a journey inland through fiercely forbidding mountains there seemed to be little birdlife. It also helps to have a special kind of car driver who is equally on the lookout for birdlife and able to stop at a moment’s notice rather than a hundred metres further along. I was not so lucky.
