The Uluguru’s – A Flashback

Last year (2020) about this time, it was especially rainy, with significantly higher rainfall than average. We were on track to bird some of the big mountains in central Tanzania but the rain had us change our plans. And if we hadn’t, COVID would have made us anyway. I never shared what we were doing just before we had to come home. We did attempt to go up one of the mountains despite the rainy time of year. Here’s the tale of how we ticked Uluguru Bush-shrike.

It was two and a half months into our African Big Year that I realized my fear of falling, flipping, and getting stuck was debilitating. Perhaps it’s a learned fear after we almost fell off a bridge into deep, rushing water. Or perhaps it stems from that time that Ross almost flipped the car after we got dangerously stuck in the Rhondo Plateau. Whatever it is, I hate really bad roads adjacent to steep cliffs and I have a hard time staying calm in dangerous scenarios. I especially hate when the roads are steep, slippery, and rutted out like they were the night we tried to climb up the Uluguru Mountains for Uluguru Bushshrike, our main target.
A slight amount of rain during the day made the road quite slippery and attempting to go up in the dark (yes, I know, absolutely idiotic) made matters worse. Had it been dry, the road would have been no problem, but it was the rainy season. We could only get so far, so we pulled over on the side of the road and slept. It was really remote so only a few villagers passed by in the night in case you were wondering. The following morning, as we inched further up the mountain, our car broke. Nothing serious like engine trouble or tire problems, but the front plate fell off — likely from hitting a protruding rock — and Ross was out there with tools attempting to get our Hilux back in driveable condition. It would need to see another mechanic when we got back to town, but hopefully we could at least continue onwards and upwards to our destination. Naturally a small audience appeared. And the road conditions never improved. Eventually we had to succumb to walking, something I was pushing for long before we actually couldn’t drive any further.
We had a much later start than anticipated but after a little over two hours of walking through villages and plantations, it was as if someone had flipped a switch and suddenly we entered into the jungle. It felt authentic. Very green. Trees of varying sizes, some clearly very old, thick with vines and tangles everywhere. There was very little evidence of human involvement, save for a small trail to walk all morning, and one or two game traps. We had one target in mind, Uluguru Bushshrike, but we knew that there was potential for many new species to come from this remote forest, so we hoped to see as many birds as we could. Amid the fears of the coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic it felt nice to be alone in a remote forest in the middle of nowhere Tanzania. Sometimes I wonder what traveling to these areas would be like if large tracts of forest hadn’t been cleared to plant corn, cassava, banana or palm, and what animals might still be around had they not been forced to extinction. We did pay a 10,000tsh entrance fee so perhaps the forest in its current state can retain value.
It was 0930 when we finally made it to a GPS point of a recent sighting and started our search. We started walking, very thankful to have a GPS track to let us know we were still on the right trail. A cooperative pair of Loveridge’s Sunbirds sat in the trees above our heads as we paused for a break. Climbing up around here was steep, perhaps the real reason the forest has a chance to remain! We were in the process of calling in a Sharpe’s Akalat when we heard our target bushshrike calling! Following the call led us to a large bird flock containing Livingston’s Turaco, Green-headed Oriole, Green Barbet, among others, and our main target, Uluguru Bushshrike. We hung around until the afternoon, connecting with several promising flocks. I happened to have great views of a second bird but Ross was far up the trail attempting to get a pair to cooperate so he didn’t get down in time to see it again.
Ross was bummed not to get a photo, and considered staying for another day, but we opted to leave. It’s not possible to photograph them all anyway! A recording will have to suffice!

I like to blame the Bertram’s Weaver’s that we stopped to photograph on the way down, because had we not, we might have made it to our car before the rain came. But we were too late, the rain came, poured, and the road became a slippery mess. Exactly what we hoped to avoid. My breakdown coming up was justified and I could hardly bare to watch as Ross drove through some slippery mud and slid dangerously close to the edge of a cliff. So close that we had to have at least 7 men scrape off the top layer of slippery mud from the road and then push so that our truck, and my husband, didn’t go tumbling down the cliff. Getting through that section was rough, but it wasn’t smooth sailing for at least a few more kilometers. I walked and watched as Ross and the truck essentially slid to the bottom of the steep road. Thankfully this incident was enough to convince even Ross that we shouldn’t be venturing up the mountains in the rainy season. Time to change our plans, divert, and return in July!

Obviously at the time of writing I had no idea we wouldn’t be back in July. Thanks to Sars-Cov-2, we wouldn’t be back until the following April! Just in time for the next rainy season!